Finished Gatsby...A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man is next I believe.
Finished Gatsby...A Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man is next I believe.
But knowing times of trouble, and the devils they may bring,
are only thwarted by his will to fight, he raised his mighty wings.
Prepared for war, thus guarding peace; for liberty, his love,
he shall deliver unto evil: death, dealt swiftly from above
Have been rereading Elaine Scarry's The Body in Pain. As research for the big project. I first read parts of it for a class a few years back and remember being sort of stunned, just by how bold and simple the main argument is, how huge the stakes are and how well she articulates them. One of those books that made me think lit/theory could really be something important. And I can poke some holes in her argument now, find her political engagement overly idealistic in many ways, but there's still something enormous and convincing about the basic ideas.
Good God, "Dead or Alive," and "Debt of Honor" by Tom Clancy are gigantic! "Dead or Alive" is 950 pages! Just borrowed both from a mate.
But knowing times of trouble, and the devils they may bring,
are only thwarted by his will to fight, he raised his mighty wings.
Prepared for war, thus guarding peace; for liberty, his love,
he shall deliver unto evil: death, dealt swiftly from above
Gone by Randy Wayne White
The Wrong Case by James Crumley
And,
From Eternity to Here: a quest for the ultimate theory of time by Sean Carroll on MP3 audio.
“The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.” —Robert Louis Stevenson.
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Last edited by Jon M; April 2nd, 2013 at 01:14 AM.
"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all. It was a saying about noble figures in old Irish poems—he would give his hawk to any man that asked for it, yet he loved his hawk better than men nowadays love their bride of tomorrow. He would mourn a dog with more grief than men nowadays mourn their fathers.
And that's how we measure out our real respect for people—by the degree of feeling they can register, the voltage of life they can carry and tolerate—and enjoy."
Live like a mighty river: a letter from Ted Hughes to his son, Nicholas
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Go for 1984. Orwell writes so well that it just flies by. Great opening line and even better ending line.
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.
Here is the full text.
George Orwell - 1984
“The difficulty of literature is not to write, but to write what you mean; not to affect your reader, but to affect him precisely as you wish.” —Robert Louis Stevenson.
1Q84 was a surprisingly fast read despite its length. The Mr, who claims to be a slow reader who subvocalizes constantly, read it in under a week. It's not super-artful prose (at least the translation isn't, I can't speak to the original) though.Originally Posted by Jon M
Speaking of books we should have read long ago, I have finally got hold of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.
I'm reading A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin. I've gotten 1/4 of the way in, and still haven't found an actual plot for the book; it just seems to be a kid going on a journey. Not sure if I'll continue reading.
Caution : Doesn't come with 1698-B sanity certificate
I'd kill for a blueberry scroll, or maim for a apple one. Alas...
Currently reading A Brief History of Disease, Science and Medicine by Michael t. Kennedy
*Just a little light reading
Until lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunters. ~African Proverb
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Last edited by Jon M; April 2nd, 2013 at 01:11 AM.
"The only calibration that counts is how much heart people invest, how much they ignore their fears of being hurt or caught out or humiliated. And the only thing people regret is that they didn't live boldly enough, that they didn't invest enough heart, didn't love enough. Nothing else really counts at all. It was a saying about noble figures in old Irish poems—he would give his hawk to any man that asked for it, yet he loved his hawk better than men nowadays love their bride of tomorrow. He would mourn a dog with more grief than men nowadays mourn their fathers.
And that's how we measure out our real respect for people—by the degree of feeling they can register, the voltage of life they can carry and tolerate—and enjoy."
Live like a mighty river: a letter from Ted Hughes to his son, Nicholas
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