Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 4634. page

>>7588704
I've read all six. Personally I thought book 2 was the best in the entire series.

>is the ideology of thebook actually fascist

What?

>>7588716
when he talks with his friend Geir they keep referring to "anti-liberal thinkers", Geir says about some author "he wasn't a fascist... I woulnd't mind if he was" and one of the writers they seem to admire (Hauge?) praised Hitler in his diaries IIRC

it's very subtle and I probably wouldn't care, and I might be wrong (that's why i'm asking) but one of the reviews from the Guardian mentioned it as well

>>7588716
Yeah, that seems to be the commonly-held opinion. I've yet to read the second book, but I'm hyped as it apparently depicts his life as a late teenager/young adult.

The vidya sucked desu

>>7588320
No, desu. Pls an hero, faget.

>>7588320
Oh please the vidya was excellent

I dunno, Moby Dick?

>>7587767
>fallling for this many memes

Blood Meridian

Skip Finnegan's Wake

>7kb image

>>7586698
It is unrelated.

>>7586702
images are an integral part to any good thread, anon.

Forgot to mention, the legends you post don't have to be Greek. Any old legend will do, I just like hearing stories from other cultures.

Goatman

If the book of Genesis ain't in your top five books of all time your opinion is pretty much worthless. There is more lore crammed into the first few chapters than every single novel written in the 20th century combined.

>implying

reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

>first kiss

I'm still waiting for mine.

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>your mum m8

#Rekt
/thread

My Struggle - Knausgaard
Neapolitan Novels - Ferrante
Your Face Tomorrow - Marias
The Map and the Territory - Houellebecq
The Roving Shadows - Quignard

>>7584950
shit taste

>>7584957
What do you recommend?

>>7584515
It's subjective

>>7584521
/thread

>>7584515
Submit it and see what happens, faglord

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Has /lit/ immersed itself in the future consequences of our soon-to-be post-industrial life yet yet?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNqTsBgQsrw

Heres some stream of consciousness bullshit oh yeah how many times am i going to not kill myself each day after another like plath's series of white rooms, brush teeth shower eat shit fuck breathe gaseous exchange, make the blood red make it blue and then draw it
Beksinski said his son was murdered at noon, and christ gave up the ghost at 3PM and here we are at 3AM, this witching hour, this dark night, this dawnless day. Kill me kill me kill me but first lemme brush my teeth

You know what would be a better thread: "Write a paragraph about yourself and others recommend a book based on this."

Yeah so

>>7583650
sounds about right. Im gonna get off /lit/ now

we can all pretend, that is good enough

>>7583168
>Recomemnd me good about

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>>7583177
good books ofc

White Nights

>spits

>not starting with suttree

>>7582805
>reading his worst book

>>>/reddit/

>he
>got
>meme'd

>>7582010
thanks for making me feel smart

>>7582010

It's starts getting more coherent around 200-250 pages in, but you're going to encounter a lot of digressions and vignettes. You will also encounter endnotes longer than 10 pages.

If you're not digging the style already, don't torture yourself. If you do, just truck on.

Anything criticised for having a magic pixie dream girl archetype in.

>>7581077
Wes Anderson Movies. All art house indie dramas. I'm sure there are some books too but who could be bothered to read them.

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>>7581088
>who could be bothered to read them.

y-yeah

depending on the rest of the story

without the rest of the story of course the first person makes more sense since it can be already finished

Clouds hang over brick buildings. My eyes follow their movement. Raindrops leave streaks of water on a giant window I am leaning against. I look into the eyes of my own reflection in the glass. Two transparent, pale brown dots. I look down and cars are beetles and people ants on wet streets down below. I have vertigo. In the dizziness-induced darkness, I see myself falling down 76 floors and splattering onto pavement among all sorts of cars and yellow cabs into a mass of flesh, bones, and intestines. I imagine my skull cracking open and my brain splitting. My cerebral functions would stop and all the demons hiding in my mind would vanish too. The darkness dissipates. Although the sun is nowhere to be seen, clouds lit by daylight are bright enough to make my pupils contract. I walk backward to plunge into a sofa filled with soft silicon that surrounds me like a womb. My eye are fixed upon the window in which the shining clouds and building rooftops are still visible.

I think of smashing the window with a hammer. Then I ponder the difficulty of sneaking a hammer into my room and the hardness of quadruple fortified glass. I think fortified glass shatters into harmless, pebble-like pieces but in my mind the glass nevertheless shatters into a thousand pieces big and sharp enough to be lethal. I see the gravity-fueled glass raining down on unassuming pedestrians.

I imagine the innocent pedestrians, their heads pierced by sharp glass, moaning and bleeding on the ground. I don't want to hurt them. People who wanted to get to their school, work, friends, lovers, family, etc. People who breathed freely, who looked without fear.

I would never want to hurt them, even though they are not like me.

Clouds hang over brick buildings. Jamie's eyes follow their movement. Raindrops leave streaks of water on a giant window Jamie is leaning against. He looks into the eyes of his own reflection in the glass. Two transparent, pale brown dots. Jamie looks down and cars are beetles and people ants on wet streets down below. Jamie has vertigo. In the dizziness-induced darkness, he sees himself falling down 76 floors and splattering onto pavement among all sorts of cars and yellow cabs into a mass of flesh, bones, and intestines. Jamie imagines his skull cracking open and his brain splitting. His cerebral functions would stop and all the demons hiding in his mind would vanish too. The darkness dissipates. Although the sun is nowhere to be seen, clouds lit by daylight are bright enough to make Jamie's pupils contract. He walks backward to plunge into a sofa filled with soft silicon that surrounds him like a womb. His eyes are fixed upon the window in which the shining clouds and building rooftops are still visible.

He thinks of smashing the window with a hammer. Then he ponders the difficulty of sneaking a hammer into his room and the hardness of quadruple fortified glass. He thinks fortified glass shatters into harmless, pebble-like pieces but in his mind the glass nevertheless shatters into a thousand pieces big and sharp enough to be lethal. Jamie sees the gravity-fueled glass raining down on unassuming pedestrians.

He imagines the innocent pedestrians, their heads pierced by sharp glass, moaning and bleeding on the ground. Jamie doesn't want to hurt them. People who wanted to get to their school, work, friends, lovers, family, etc. People who breathed freely, who looked without fear.

Jamie would never want to hurt them, even though they are not like him.