You will never love something as much as Marguerite young loved

If she loves it so much why doesn't she stuff it up her cunt?

>>9516355
woman cant write, try pyncho and moby dick
also women dont understand literature and cant create art and they certainly cant love.

ever heard of redpill??

could've ended that sentence after the first five words

has anyone else here read Miss Mac? It's a book I find myself going back to again and again, in how easy it is to just "dip" yourself into the fluid prose of the monster. It's a gorgeous book, and written with such grace that a short paragraph or two will sometimes be enough to "reset" my thinking to something more natural.

Also the characters are great, poor poor mr spitzer, always watching his butterflies

>>9516503
What's it about senpai

File: Screenshot_2017-04-12-18-46-46.png (1MB, 1080x1920px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 1080x1920px

>>9516367
>being this bitter in current year

>>9516527
a lot :


At the center of most of it is the protag's mother, the "opium lady" who sits in her giant house by the sea hallucinating (possibly willingly) on copious amounts of opium. Lots of what's really real/what isn't even from the very beginning of the book. the famous quote being :

>What shall we do when, fleeing from illusion, we are confronted by illusion?

Also apparantly opium lady is based on a real person Young knew, here we go:

No. All this was in my background before I ever arrived. Her house was just right for a young poet. There couldn't have been a better place. I was offered opium every evening. But I always said, “No, thanks,” and for that reason, she used to call me the “prosaic sprite,” because I didn't need drugs to dream. I stayed with her most of the time. I was offered the bed in which Edna St. Vincent Millay had slept, when she was a visitor in Chicago, and the idea of sleeping in Millay's bed—it would mean nothing to me now, but at that age . . . it seemed to be the most marvelous thing that could ever happen to any young person. On the opium lady's bedside was a silver drinking cup which had belonged to John Keats, a little mosaic Persian letter set, and a beautiful bird with a sea shell. I have these things at my bedside now. Her daughter gave them to me when she died.

what it's "about" is the character of Miss Mac, who's kind of an antithesis to opium lady, along with these twin brothers, one of which is dead, and a suffragette. These are essentially the only characters, and they both get hundreds of pages just for them to (in the case of Spitzer quite literally) wander through

ask me more questions

>>9516570
You ever smoke opium? What does it do? I was under the assumption it was like heroin. It makes you trip?

>>9516593
I've taken other opiates so the best description I can give is this distinct inability to really "fall asleep" into them. Your dreams kind of dip into the reality of your setting in that way that they sometimes do when I find myself unable to "shake off" whatever it was I was reading before I retired to bed. There's a lucid control to the fantasy though? in that it doesn't seem necessarily overwhelming but instead strangely demure and almost sensical in that way that dreams often seem.

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>>9516367
pic related

>>9516541
*eyeroll*

>>9516541

>falling for obvious sarcasm this easily

get meme'd, kid

>>9517406
>degrading yourself online to save the white race

>>9516367
Pyncho is truly an unheralded master.

>>9516570
Your enthusiasm for this book got me interested.

>>9517663
aw shucks, let me throw a passage your way:


"Mr. Sptizer still carried the key, the golden key to the door that was no more, the door leading both in and out, and the great lawyer was dead, having lost his last case, and so was the clerk of the court, and so was the master of he scrolls, and only the dead musician lived, and he lived in spite of all that Mr. Spitzer could do to stop his singing, his creaking like the frozen clouds, the creaking mast-heads, the demented sea shells singing to themselves, or the shrieking of the silken skies when they are torn in two. "

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