Are his books actually good?
Which one should I start with?
What's the saddest thing you've ever read/written? Let's shed tears together, /lit/
You lose everything when you've lost the one you love. In theory, it should be a freeing event; a man with nothing has everything to gain. But she left me with her dying wish, and the weight of it is unbearable.
Three times now I've been unable to do what I always wanted. Three times, it's put me in a situation I would rather not be in. The last time, I woke up in the ER with a shattered cheek bone, two missing teeth, and a number of broken ribs. She's holding me back.
"Please." Her eyes were already closing as her strength faded. "Don't kill anyone... not again."
Her last words have more hold over me than anything else. I could have easily killed those two boys. Just left them there in a ditch by the road and went on my way. But I couldn't even bring myself to fight back. I spent weeks recovering from that.
And now I'm out again, walking back home after a single beer and hours of self-pity. At least the night air was cool and calming. The sound of people during the day was too much. Their little lives mattered to them just as much as hers did to me. It's sickening.
I barely noticed the three boys ahead of me. They were all in dark clothing, with hoods up, so it should've hardly been surprising when the streetlight finally illuminated them. They were excited about something, that much was clear.
"Yo man, gives us your wallet." Was he holding the knife the whole time, or did I just miss it?
"I don't want any trouble." My wallet was empty.
"Don't fucking mess me about." His two friends circle around my side. "Give. Me. Your. Fucking. WALLET!"
They weren't much. Two skinny, lanky teens and one little fat one. They probably only had one knife between them. The way they shook told me they didn't do this often.
"You don't want to do this." I can see he isn't used to holding a knife, considering he's pointing it at me like a wand. But a knife is still a knife.
"Are you fucking deaf?" The short one's turn to speak.
"Do you deserve to die?"
They laugh but their frowns betray their nervousness.
"What the fuck?" That knife doesn't seem so effective now, does it?
"I promised someone a long time ago that I would never kill another person again." I hope they're soaking it in. "Do you think you deserve to die?"
The silence probably felt much longer to them than to me.
"No." The knife isn't pointing at me now.
His friends don't seem too eager any more.
"Then please, don't make me break my promise. Not to her." That hold is still there. "Let's all walk away from this."
Silence again as they swap uncomfortable glances.
They step aside and keep walking down the street, muttering insults under their breath. Four times it took for that to work. At least, I thought it worked. It took a moment for me to register the knife now sticking in my back.
"Fucking cunt." The kid was already sprinting off down the street with his friend by the time I hit the floor.
No voy a poner mis escritos por el momento, tan sólo quiero hacer una pregunta a los que estáis por aquí: ¿cuántos de vosotros os saltáis las reglas ortográficas para ajustaros a vuestra habla? Quiero decir, tal como hacía Juan Ramón Jiménez.
Lo pregunto porque yo lo hago para mis poemas y quiero saber si esto lo hace más gente o no.
Y otra, ¿habéis publicado alguno? Yo no puedo costearme publicación propia por el momento y no creo que...
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>¿cuántos de vosotros os saltáis las reglas ortográficas para ajustaros a vuestra habla?
>¿habéis publicado alguno?
No, pero espero hacerlo antes de los 25. Todavía me quedan 5 años, no hay prisa. Espero poder permitirme entonces desdeñar la opción de autopublicarme igual que lo hago ahora desu.
Is this philosophically sound?
Pic related is one of the most enigmatic, complex, and thought-provoking lines in hip-hop/rap history. Many have tried but none have been able to understand its meaning.
here is the origin
Alright boys it's real nigga hours. If you haven't slogged your way through this book get the fuck out.
Here's my theory on the book, feel free to tell me I'm wrong but I wanna have a discussion about it. NOTE: I read it un-annotated because I don't like myself very much.
My theory is that the whole book follows that the characters are symbols for Ireland, England, and the people of the countries respectively. As Stephen Dedalus represents Ireland we see Bloom representing England and Molly, as well as women at large, representing the...
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Will knowing more than two languages become a status symbol in the near future?
Everyone's learning english, and technology will soon be able to translate texts on the spot for most practical purposes. So eventually, those who spend time taking up French or Arabic will only do so out of artistic interest, knowing that the literature, the poetry, the films and the music can only be properly enjoyed in the original language.
I'd say it's quite the other way around. More and more children grow up learning a second foreign language when they are in fourth or fifth grade. A third one a bit later. At least apparently in central Europe.
Has /lit/ read Joseph Conrad’s “Lingard Trilogy” and if so, what do you think of it?
Almayer's Folly (1895)
An Outcast of the Islands (1896)
The Rescue (1920)
I’ve read “The Rescue” (I have a 1920 Doubleday, Page & Co. hardcover) and thought it was an interesting story, even if it is a bit difficult to read due to the now kinda archaic vocabulary and was thinking of ordering up the other two books in the series.
I’ve also read “Lord Jim”, which I only vaguely remember as being boring.
Vannevar Bush described in his 1945
An associative trail as conceived by Bush would be a way to create a new linear sequence of microfilm frames across any arbitrary sequence of microfilm frames by creating a chained sequence of links in the way just described, along with personal comments and side trails.
Modern hypertext systems with word and phrase-level linking offer more sophistication in connecting relevant information
At the time Bush saw the current ways of indexing information as limiting and instead proposed a way to store information that was analogous to the mental association of the human brain
Which one will it be, lit?
What should I read first, Lolita or Gravity's rainbow?
why are you repressing your love of cute guys, anon?
Is there anything good about breasts in literature
Sabbaths Theater by Phillip Roth
There's a scene where the senior citizen protagonist is sucking his middle aged mistress's tits and she tells him, 'I feel that deep in my cunt.'
This gets him thinking about his mother.
I'm stuck. Something happened, and I fell in the pit of the weaks. I can't write, no more.
I've many stories in my head, many plots and scenarios, but I still can't figure out how I could write them. Isn't it just sad and disappointing?
Does anyone here read like that woman? It bothers me beyond reason to have to fight to keep the book open. I'd rather snap its spine. I wish all books were like those buttery smooth bound hardbacks.
I have a problem when reading "bad" writing.
It's not that I can't tell (or decide) if some writing is bad, but I can't explain or articulate in an intelligent manner why I find it so terrible.
When I discern bad writing it comes as something intuitive, like eating bad food and immediately 'knowing' that it tastes horrible.
What should I do read to hone in my articulation when it comes to literary criticism?
>Begin quote (from guardian article)
“OK,” I say. “You’re basically alone. Your wife is still asleep” – he was then married, but not for much longer, to his second wife, Marla Maples – “you’re in the bathroom shaving and you see yourself in the mirror. What are you thinking?”
From Trump, a look of incomprehension.
Me: “I mean, are you looking at yourself and thinking, ‘Wow. I’m Donald Trump’?”
Trump remains puzzled.
Me: “OK, I guess I’m asking, do you consider yourself ideal company?”
(At the time, I deemed Trump’s reply unprintable. But that was then.)
Trump: “You really want to know what I consider ideal company?”
Trump: “A total piece of ass.”
Singer’s profile determined that Trump does not have an interior life.
Is this really how New Yorker / NYT / "literary" magazine nu-male cucks think? I'm not a Trump worshipper but how can we go from Hemingway to these cucks?
Get in, faggot. We're making America great again.
Something must be going over my head.
Is it supposed to be Trump's internal dialogue or am I just missing the entire point?