Joyce travelbee biography

Literary core samples exhibited + assayed

2016.02.06 23:45 Earthsophagus Literary core samples exhibited + assayed

About specific passages from, mostly, literary fictions and canonical literature. Emphasis is on how the writing works, or fails to work.
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2017.04.29 23:13 William Thomas Gaddis, Jr.

William Thomas Gaddis, Jr. (December 29, 1922 – December 16, 1998) was an American novelist.
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2024.05.04 18:42 Reddit_Books New Releases for May 2024

New Releases for May 2024

Data courtesy http://www.bookreporter.com
For more discussion, see the monthly New Releases post.
Title Author ReleaseDate
Adventure
Clive Cussler The Heist Jack Du Brul May 7, 2024
Clive Cussler Condor's Fury Graham Brown May 7, 2024
Empire Conn Iggulden May 14, 2024
Tom Clancy Act of Defiance Brian Andrews May 21, 2024
Biography
The Last of His Kind Andy McCullough May 7, 2024
Feherty John Feinstein May 14, 2024
The Call to Serve Jon Meacham May 28, 2024
Fantasy
When Among Crows Veronica Roth May 14, 2024
The House That Horror Built Christina Henry May 14, 2024
Fiction
Retrospective written by Juan Gabriel Vásquez, translated by Anne McLean May 7, 2024
Sipsworth Simon Van Booy May 7, 2024
The Lover Rebecca Sacks May 14, 2024
The Stellar Debut of Galactica Macfee Alexander McCall Smith May 14, 2024
All Fours Miranda July May 14, 2024
April May June July Alison B. Hart May 14, 2024
Blue Ruin Hari Kunzru May 14, 2024
Liquid, Fragile, Perishable Carolyn Kuebler May 14, 2024
Long After We Are Gone Terah Shelton Harris May 14, 2024
Paper Names Susie Luo May 14, 2024
Lucky Dogs Helen Schulman May 21, 2024
I Want You More Swan Huntley May 21, 2024
Lies and Weddings Kevin Kwan May 21, 2024
Shae Mesha Maren May 21, 2024
The Enchanted Hacienda J.C. Cervantes May 21, 2024
The Guncle Abroad Steven Rowley May 21, 2024
The Second Coming Garth Risk Hallberg May 28, 2024
Historical Fiction
All the Glimmering Stars Mark Sullivan May 7, 2024
Daughters of Shandong Eve J. Chung May 7, 2024
Disturbing the Dead Kelley Armstrong May 7, 2024
Ella Diane Richards May 7, 2024
Long Island Colm Tóibín May 7, 2024
The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying ... Helen Simonson May 7, 2024
Fair Rosaline Natasha Solomons May 7, 2024
The Stolen Child Ann Hood May 7, 2024
Whale Fall Elizabeth O'Connor May 7, 2024
The Old Lion Jeff Shaara May 14, 2024
Every Time We Say Goodbye Natalie Jenner May 14, 2024
Last House Jessica Shattuck May 14, 2024
Rednecks Taylor Brown May 14, 2024
The Shadow of War Jeff Shaara May 14, 2024
This Strange Eventful History Claire Messud May 14, 2024
Butcher Joyce Carol Oates May 21, 2024
The Lost Letters from Martha's Vineyard Michael Callahan May 21, 2024
The Wealth of Shadows Graham Moore May 21, 2024
The Passionate Tudor Alison Weir May 28, 2024
The Safekeep Yael van der Wouden May 28, 2024
The Act of Disappearing Nathan Gower May 28, 2024
History
Left for Dead Eric Jay Dolin May 7, 2024
Throne of Grace Bob Drury May 7, 2024
The Situation Room George Stephanopoulos May 14, 2024
Horror
You Like It Darker Stephen King May 21, 2024
Humor
Love, Lies, and Cherry Pie Jackie Lau May 7, 2024
Swamp Story Dave Barry May 7, 2024
The Time Has Come Will Leitch May 14, 2024
The Paradise Problem Christina Lauren May 14, 2024
I Hope This Finds You Well Natalie Sue May 21, 2024
Look on the Bright Side Kristan Higgins May 28, 2024
Memoir
Love Is a Burning Thing Nina St. Pierre May 7, 2024
The Year of Living Constitutionally A.J. Jacobs May 7, 2024
You Never Know Tom Selleck May 7, 2024
Animals I Want to See Tom Seeman May 14, 2024
Breaking Glass Patricia Walsh Chadwick May 14, 2024
A Walk in the Park Kevin Fedarko May 28, 2024
Mystery
The Overnights Ian K. Smith May 7, 2024
Nonna Maria and the Case of the Lost Treasure Lorenzo Carcaterra May 7, 2024
The Return of Ellie Black Emiko Jean May 7, 2024
On Her Watch Melinda Leigh May 14, 2024
The Detective Up Late Adrian McKinty May 14, 2024
Bad, Bad Seymour Brown Susan Isaacs May 21, 2024
Long Time Gone Charlie Donlea May 21, 2024
The Last Murder at the End of the World Stuart Turton May 21, 2024
First Frost Craig Johnson May 28, 2024
Knife River Justine Champine May 28, 2024
Romance
The Ministry of Time Kaliane Bradley May 7, 2024
Malibu Summer LibGill May 21, 2024
You Are Here David Nicholls May 28, 2024
Summer Fridays Suzanne Rindell May 28, 2024
Sports
The 1998 Yankees Jack Curry May 7, 2024
The Yankee Way Andy Martino May 21, 2024
Suspense
The 24th Hour James Patterson May 6, 2024
The Man on the Train Debbie Babitt May 7, 2024
A Lethal Question Mark Rubinstein May 7, 2024
I Will Ruin You Linwood Barclay May 7, 2024
Phantom Orbit David Ignatius May 7, 2024
The Deepest Lake Andromeda Romano-Lax May 7, 2024
The Instruments of Darkness John Connolly May 7, 2024
When She Was Me Marlee Bush May 7, 2024
The Last Time She Saw Him Kate White May 14, 2024
Think Twice Harlan Coben May 14, 2024
Very Bad Company Emma Rosenblum May 14, 2024
Under the Palms Kaira Rouda May 21, 2024
One Perfect Couple Ruth Ware May 21, 2024
Still Waters Matt Goldman May 21, 2024
Southern Man Greg Iles May 28, 2024
The Winner Teddy Wayne May 28, 2024
Camino Ghosts John Grisham May 28, 2024
If Something Happens to Me Alex Finlay May 28, 2024
Women's Fiction
How to Read a Book Monica Wood May 7, 2024
skin & bones Renée Watson May 7, 2024
Summers at the Saint Mary Kay Andrews May 7, 2024
The Mother of All Things Alexis Landau May 7, 2024
Their Divine Fires Wendy Chen May 7, 2024
Women and Children First Alina Grabowski May 7, 2024
The Summer Swap Sarah Morgan May 7, 2024
Lovers and Liars Amanda Eyre Ward May 14, 2024
Wives Like Us Plum Sykes May 14, 2024
Life, Loss, and Puffins Catherine Ryan Hyde May 14, 2024
All the Days of Summer Nancy Thayer May 21, 2024
Exhibit R.O. Kwon May 21, 2024
Mind Games Nora Roberts May 21, 2024
Summer on Highland Beach Sunny Hostin May 28, 2024
Allow Me to Introduce Myself Onyi Nwabineli May 28, 2024
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2024.04.30 01:40 sketchesbyboze James Joyce has some of the best writing advice I've ever read

From Ellmann's biography, page 439:
"One preoccupation that never ceased to be fundamental to him was fidelity to fact. He had a pointed illustration one day for Budgen and Suter, telling them: "A German lady called to see me today. She was a writer and wanted me to give an opinion on her work, but she told me she had already shown it to the Porter of the hotel where she stays. So I said to her, 'What did your hotel porter think of your work?' She said, 'He objected to a scene in my novel where my hero goes out into the forest, finds a locket of the girl he loves, picks it up and kisses it passionately.'
"'But,' I said, 'that seems to me to be a very pleasing and touching incident. What did your hotel porter find wrong with it?' And then she tells me he said, 'It's all right for the hero to find the locket and to pick it up and kiss it, but before he kissed it you should have made him wipe the dirt off it with his coat sleeve.'"
"And what did you tell her?" his friends asked.
"I told her," said Joyce, "and I meant it too, to go back to that hotel porter and always to take his advice. 'That man,' I said, 'is a critical genius. There is nothing I can tell you that he can't tell you.'""
submitted by sketchesbyboze to writing [link] [comments]


2024.04.21 09:45 Affectionate_Jury_57 Does anyone know a biography for R.U.Joyce?

I have a research on him and there is nothing... absolutely nothing
P.s:He wrote a short story called the glove
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2024.04.08 19:50 TonyYumYum Home and Garden Free Audiobook Megathread

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Length: 14 hrs and 35 mins
Release date: 04-25-07
4.5 out of 5 stars2,239 ratings
Order from Chaos Audiobook By Jaclyn Paul cover art
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Release date: 05-25-21
4.5 out of 5 stars191 ratings
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Length: 3 hrs and 13 mins
Release date: 06-02-20
4.5 out of 5 stars158 ratings
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Sacred Spaces Audiobook By Susan D. Fay PhD cover art
  1. Sacred Spaces
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Length: 5 hrs and 27 mins
Release date: 03-17-22
5 out of 5 stars87 ratings
The Pet I Can’t Forget Audiobook By Karen A. Anderson cover art
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Length: 5 hrs and 13 mins
Release date: 12-16-23
4.5 out of 5 stars9 ratings
The Eighty-Dollar Champion Audiobook By Elizabeth Letts cover art
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Length: 11 hrs and 22 mins
5 out of 5 stars301 ratings
The Ultimate Book of Fun Things to Do in Retirement: Volume 1 Audiobook By S.C. Francis cover art
  1. The Ultimate Book of Fun Things to Do in Retirement: Volume 1
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Length: 10 hrs and 4 mins
Release date: 06-22-23
5 out of 5 stars43 ratings
Spark Joy Audiobook By Marie Kondo cover art
  1. Spark Joy
An Illustrated Master Class on the Art of Organizing and Tidying Up
Narrated by: Sumalee Montano
Series: The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up, Book 2
Length: 5 hrs and 31 mins
Release date: 01-05-16
4.5 out of 5 stars2,831 ratings
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Length: 3 hrs and 2 mins
Release date: 02-28-23
4 out of 5 stars35 ratings
The Minimalist Home Audiobook By Joshua Becker cover art
  1. The Minimalist Home
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By: Joshua Becker
Narrated by: Joshua Becker
Length: 8 hrs and 5 mins
Release date: 12-18-18
4.5 out of 5 stars930 ratings
Nature's Best Hope Audiobook By Douglas W. Tallamy cover art
  1. Nature's Best Hope
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By: Douglas W. Tallamy
Narrated by: Adam Barr
Length: 6 hrs and 30 mins
Release date: 05-19-20
5 out of 5 stars425 ratings
The Agent's Edge Audiobook By Jordan Cohen, Mark Tabb - contributor, Sylvester Stallone cover art
  1. The Agent's Edge
Secret Strategies to Win Listings and Make Your Fortune Selling Real Estate
By: Jordan Cohen, Mark Tabb - contributor, Sylvester Stallone
Narrated by: Jordan Cohen, Eric Simon, Matt Lionetti
Length: 5 hrs and 44 mins
Release date: 06-06-23
5 out of 5 stars66 ratings
The Rooted Life Audiobook By Justin Rhodes cover art
  1. The Rooted Life
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By: Justin Rhodes
Narrated by: Justin Rhodes
Length: 5 hrs and 2 mins
Release date: 03-01-22
Regular price: $14.81
French Women Don't Get Fat Audiobook By Mireille Guiliano cover art
  1. French Women Don't Get Fat
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By: Mireille Guiliano
Narrated by: Kathe Mazur
Length: 7 hrs and 20 mins
Release date: 12-21-05
4.5 out of 5 stars669 ratings
Wine and War Audiobook By Donald Kladstrup, Petie Kladstrup cover art
  1. Wine and War
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By: Donald Kladstrup, Petie Kladstrup
Narrated by: Todd McLaren
Length: 9 hrs and 23 mins
Release date: 03-27-12
4.5 out of 5 stars416 ratings
Regular price: $15.47
From Scratch Audiobook By Tembi Locke cover art
  1. From Scratch
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By: Tembi Locke
Narrated by: Tembi Locke
Length: 10 hrs and 17 mins
Release date: 04-30-19
4.5 out of 5 stars5,202 ratings
Humble Pie Audiobook By Gordon Ramsay cover art
  1. Humble Pie
By: Gordon Ramsay
Narrated by: Gordon Ramsay
Length: 3 hrs and 1 min
Release date: 10-16-06
4.5 out of 5 stars1,480 ratings
Regular price: $18.87
The Orchid Thief Audiobook By Susan Orlean cover art
  1. The Orchid Thief
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By: Susan Orlean
Narrated by: Jennifer Meyers
Length: 8 hrs and 45 mins
Release date: 08-03-01
3.5 out of 5 stars572 ratings
Regular price: $17.98
Eat a Peach Audiobook By David Chang, Gabe Ulla cover art
  1. Eat a Peach
By: David Chang, Gabe Ulla
Narrated by: David Chang
Length: 9 hrs and 6 mins
Release date: 09-08-20
4.5 out of 5 stars1,921 ratings
Every Living Thing Audiobook By James Herriot cover art
  1. Every Living Thing
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Release date: 12-01-00
5 out of 5 stars1,128 ratings
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Down and Out in Paradise Audiobook By Charles Leerhsen cover art
  1. Down and Out in Paradise
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By: Charles Leerhsen
Narrated by: Vikas Adam
Length: 8 hrs and 40 mins
Release date: 10-11-22
4 out of 5 stars340 ratings
Food: A Love Story Audiobook By Jim Gaffigan cover art
  1. Food: A Love Story
By: Jim Gaffigan
Narrated by: Jim Gaffigan
Release date: 10-21-14
4.5 out of 5 stars4,056 ratings
Regular price: $15.75
In the Middle Are the Horsemen Audiobook By Tik Maynard cover art
  1. In the Middle Are the Horsemen
By: Tik Maynard
Narrated by: Tik Maynard
Length: 10 hrs and 22 mins
Release date: 10-24-22
Regular price: $21.49
Old-Fashioned on Purpose Audiobook By Jill Winger cover art
  1. Old-Fashioned on Purpose
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By: Jill Winger
Narrated by: Jill Winger, Andrew Eiden
Length: 8 hrs and 57 mins
Release date: 09-26-23
5 out of 5 stars78 ratings
Cooked Audiobook By Michael Pollan cover art
  1. Cooked
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Length: 13 hrs and 25 mins
Release date: 04-23-13
4.5 out of 5 stars2,563 ratings
No Ordinary Dog Audiobook By Will Chesney, Joe Layden cover art
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Narrated by: Will Chesney
Length: 9 hrs and 44 mins
Release date: 04-21-20
5 out of 5 stars2,263 ratings
Speaking with Nature Audiobook By Sandra Ingerman, Llyn Roberts cover art
  1. Speaking with Nature
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By: Sandra Ingerman, Llyn Roberts
Narrated by: Christa Lewis, Suzie Althens
Length: 9 hrs and 35 mins
Release date: 01-08-19
4.5 out of 5 stars135 ratings
The Man Who Listens to Horses Audiobook By Monty Roberts cover art
  1. The Man Who Listens to Horses
By: Monty Roberts
Narrated by: Ed Sala
Release date: 05-03-18
5 out of 5 stars247 ratings
The Book Your Dog Wishes You Would Read Audiobook By Louise Glazebrook cover art
  1. The Book Your Dog Wishes You Would Read
By: Louise Glazebrook
Narrated by: Louise Glazebrook
Length: 7 hrs and 43 mins
Release date: 11-18-21
4.5 out of 5 stars62 ratings
Regular price: $15.98
Finding Freedom Audiobook By Erin French cover art
  1. Finding Freedom
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By: Erin French
Narrated by: Erin French
Length: 9 hrs and 36 mins
Release date: 04-06-21
5 out of 5 stars1,310 ratings
Raw Dog Audiobook By Jamie Loftus cover art
  1. Raw Dog
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By: Jamie Loftus
Narrated by: Jamie Loftus
Length: 9 hrs and 38 mins
Release date: 05-23-23
4.5 out of 5 stars180 ratings
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By: Jeff Lowenfels, Wayne Lewis
Narrated by: Chris Lutkin
Length: 8 hrs and 7 mins
5 out of 5 stars320 ratings
The Complete Dr. Sebi Diet Cookbook Audiobook By Stephanie Henery cover art
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By: Stephanie Henery
Narrated by: Jimmy Allen Fuller
Length: 1 hr and 34 mins
Release date: 06-22-20
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  1. My Mother's Kitchen
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By: Peter Gethers
Narrated by: Peter Gethers
Length: 8 hrs and 37 mins
Release date: 04-04-17
4.5 out of 5 stars20 ratings
Project 333 Audiobook By Courtney Carver cover art
  1. Project 333
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By: Courtney Carver
Narrated by: Courtney Carver
Release date: 03-03-20
4.5 out of 5 stars338 ratings
The Power of Awareness Audiobook By Dan Schilling cover art
  1. The Power of Awareness
And Other Secrets from the World's Foremost Spies, Detectives, and Special Operators on How to Stay Safe and Save Your Life
By: Dan Schilling
Narrated by: Dan Schilling
Length: 7 hrs and 6 mins
Release date: 06-01-21
4.5 out of 5 stars121 ratings
Good Clean Fun Audiobook By Nick Offerman cover art
  1. Good Clean Fun
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By: Nick Offerman
Narrated by: Nick Offerman
Length: 6 hrs and 7 mins
Release date: 10-18-16
4.5 out of 5 stars1,606 ratings
Losing a Pet: A Book of Grief & Recovery Audiobook By Emily Newcombe cover art
  1. Losing a Pet: A Book of Grief & Recovery
The Pathway to Finding Joy After Pet Loss When You Just Can’t Get Over Losing Your Soul Pet
By: Emily Newcombe
Narrated by: Hillary O'Keefe
Length: 2 hrs and 8 mins
Release date: 04-11-24
5 out of 5 stars16 ratings
Joyful Audiobook By Ingrid Fetell Lee cover art
  1. Joyful
By: Ingrid Fetell Lee
Narrated by: Ingrid Fetell Lee
Length: 9 hrs and 29 mins
Release date: 09-04-18
4.5 out of 5 stars701 ratings
Regular price: $21.83
Folks, This Ain't Normal Audiobook By Joel Salatin cover art
  1. Folks, This Ain't Normal
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By: Joel Salatin
Narrated by: Joel Salatin
Release date: 10-10-11
5 out of 5 stars2,557 ratings
submitted by TonyYumYum to freeaudiobooksforu [link] [comments]


2024.03.10 23:36 type9freak Where do I start? Where do I talk with other Joyce obsessors?

I have read Dubliners and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. I was interested in learning more about his life, I read about James Joyce on Wikipedia. I quickly fell into the Joyce rabbit hole I’m sure all of you did at some time ago. Obviously he and his writings are endlessly fascinating and complex, but I was truly hooked when I learned about his wife Nora, his daughter Lucia, and Giorgio (I haven’t found much about him) and their family relationship. As an artist I thought I need to research this and write a story or a film script based on this just to see on the next page that many, many people have already been inspired just like me. And Bloomsday, and the art inspired by Joyce’s writings, there’s Joyce scholars, there’s an entire community around this family, and I want to know more. I want to experience all this great art. I haven’t read Ulysses or Finnegan’s Wake. And I haven’t read any biographies or watched any films or plays about the Joyce family. I saw some strong criticism about many of these biographies, I want to know how I should approach this, because I am very inspired and I want to consume all the resources and reading and viewing there is for me. But I don’t want to be mislead or have the facts misrepresented. And I can’t wait to read Ulysses!
submitted by type9freak to jamesjoyce [link] [comments]


2024.03.05 19:03 AllThingsWorn Sizzling Encounters of Pleasure - Erotica

Sizzling Encounters of Pleasure - Erotica

https://preview.redd.it/kfvuwbiz1kmc1.png?width=720&format=png&auto=webp&s=25ea541ebdb291e08c6704526d3f20dd208b7fc7
The cum is still dripping out of me. That’s always the way after a heavy session late at night when I get the tap on the shoulder and the hard cock pressing up against my back, he sure knows how to convince a gal. Not that I need too much convincing, I dream of sex, I wake up for sex, and I go back to sleep dreaming about sex. Now I’m daydreaming about sex. All the sex.
I could constantly feel it inside of me from the moment it was there, but it didn’t start dripping out till Sandra started banging on about environmental sustainability in the workplace and what we as a conscientious and reputable organisation can do to further reduce the impact that our business operations have on blah blah blah. My white cotton panties feel slick as last night’s reward oozes out of my wet pussy. I don’t let on; I make the appropriate nods and noises of agreement so Sandra feels she’s worth something, but out of view I open my legs further under the table to welcome more cum against the soft cotton. The thought of it rubbing up against me for the rest of the day makes my clit tingle with excitement.
It’s around 2pm that I make my way to the toilet to first assess the beautiful mess, working my short length skirt out of the revealing blouse down to my ankles, and carefully lowering my panties down to my knees, trapping them there by moving my knees outwards to create a hammock of orgasmic load. The wondrous smell fills the cubicle, hell, it’s probably filled the whole washroom.
I stare in wonder, I’ve never quite understood how I could produce so much warm creamy goodness, along with the sheer volume of pussy juice all mixed up with my man’s cum that it’s truly a wonder it hasn’t seeped through the overlapping pant suit. Dave from accounting would love that, the pervy bastard. Joyce would be straight on to HR, just like she was when I first wore this very blouse that sends the whole office in to a glancing frenzy. Every one of these nine to fiver’s is a perv, but I seem to be the only one to glory in it. The rest of the day is spent wondering what to do that night against the backdrop of an excel spreadsheet I have no interest in completing. Do I jump him the moment he walks in, or do I wait for darkness and the howling moon. Fuck the howling moon I thought, I’m rubbing these panties in his face the minute he walks through the door and then riding him within an inch of his life. Fuck me I’m horny. I writhe around in my chair slightly, feeling and hearing a slight squelch as my cunt dances with my panties, with the creamy load in the middle slipping and sliding, I feel a warmth on my clit as some of it travels north, and I swear I almost whimper in delight. I catch Dave’s eye from across the room and pull myself together. Dave is the embodiment of a cold shower dampening my sex drive slightly, but it can never be put out altogether.
I finish work earlier than usual, so the train home is quiet. I sit as upright as possible, giving the sway of the train beating along the tracks more chance to rub that seat up against my cunt. I’m dreaming of whipping these golden knickers off and shoving them in my man’s face when a chance glance over a woman’s shoulder gives me another, far more exciting idea.
The train is so quiet that the woman in the seat in front of me was seemingly having her own clandestine fun in secret, or at least she thought. I couldn’t make out much about her from here. Tall I thought, slim build with shoulder length blonde hair, dressed smartly, as I was, with soft cheek bones and a rosy glow. I can happily go either way, and from what I could see I could happily ride this one’s face to climax, and feel the wetness between her thighs, but these thoughts aren’t what drew me to unknown blonde lady on the train, it was her phone. Before the screen went white to load another page, I saw a flash of some white cotton panties much like my own, and much like my own they were soiled to the extreme, with a pretty pink pussy shining through the half transparent cloth. “A strange setting to be browsing porn on a phone” I thought, but then again, I was sat bolt upright like a disciplined child at school for the sole purpose of a better swaying action on my cunt, so I was hardly one to judge. The woman was shielding the top of the phone with her hand, trying to be as surreptitious as possible, but from my angle I could see a large portion of the screen. It remained white for a few seconds as it tried to load the next page, such is the quality of phone signal on trains, and when it finally loaded I could just make out a pink banner at the top of the screen, the top half of the letters of three words obscured by her feminine fingers, but clearly reading “All Things Worn”.
It was all I could do not to embarrass this lady by tapping her on the shoulder and enquiring what world of delights this site held, and had it not been for the fact we were rounding my favourite bend of track that led to the next stop, which was particularly rickety and therefore orgasmic to my delicate clit as the rumblings of the seat vibrated against my pussy, I may have done just that. Maybe we would have struck up a friendship, and at best another partner for me and him to lose ourselves with, threesomes mean double the fun, and double the cum. By time the train arrived at the next station, with me nearly arriving with it due to the motion on my clit, the woman had made a move to the doors to alight on to the platform and out of my life, at least temporarily, maybe I’ll see her again.
I managed to resist the temptation to search for the site before getting home, thankfully the walk from the station was short, much like my patience to satisfy this curiosity. It wasn’t long before I dumped my coat hurriedly on to the banister post and I was lay back reclining on the plush leather sofas that dominated much of our front room, bought predominately for their size, and the multitude of sexual positions it would allow. My fingers and pussy were bordering on trembling as I opened my phone’s browser and typed the three little words in to a search engine. The top result mirrored those three words back at me, with a link above the description “Looking to buy or sell used & well-worn items? Join our safe community/marketplace to find used panties, well-worn shoes, pantyhose, or socks.”
“Such a thing even exists?” I thought to myself, marvelling at the direct language, the sheer candidness of the description and the excitement it made me feel deep inside. I remember the butterflies in my stomach before dates with boys I liked in my youth, the tingling feeling that precedes an event of endless possibilities, nothing compared to this feeling as I hesitated before tapping on the link.
I was taken to a site that seemed professionally designed, with a reiteration of its contents and the chance to “join free today”, I ignored that for now, as a number of small circular pictures distracted and grabbed my attention. A plethora of smut is how I would best describe it, I thought. Luscious tits, twinkly toes, plump beautiful asses and devilish smiles tempted me in, “these must be the sellers” I thought. I browsed for a long time, sampling what delights this site had to offer, it wasn’t long before my free hand was unruffling my blouse once again, this time to slide my nimble fingers down into my sodden panties to the awaiting, soaking clit. I scanned for the blonde woman from the train, but to no avail. The disappointment wasn’t too palpable as the plethora of smut meant a plethora of sluts, and they were all sexy in their own way. I settled on a body length shot of a gorgeous brunette wearing nylon tights and a black lace bra, in her photo she was teasing her clit through black panties, so it would be rude not to do the same. Except I went in mind, feeling last night’s sex and using it as slick, wet lubrication against my ever-sensitive clit. The race to orgasm was short, Usain Bolt couldn’t have beat this girl to the finish line with a head start.
I settled back, intensely satisfied, “what a world!” I thought to myself. It was only then did I pay more attention to the particulars of these girl’s listings. The gorgeous brunette was selling everything in the picture displayed, nylon tights £20, black lace bra £30 and soaked black panties £30! Hell, I’d do it for free for the thrill! It wouldn’t be so much about the money for this girl, I would almost be happy to pay for some random man halfway across the country, or better yet down the street, to inhale my pussy at his own leisure.
That settled it, I signed up in minutes, and for a nominal fee I was good to go. One honest biography post and a few pictures uploaded later, and I was ready to dive in to this world. Selecting the pictures wasn’t difficult; a large portion of my camera roll is filled with raunchy and filthy photos to the point I could fill up four pages of my profile without ever opening my camera. But open my camera I did, for my very first listing. “Used white cotton panties, cummed in by myself and my partner, well-worn”. I did consider them well-worn even though they’d only been on a day. One day against my pussy is like three to another girl, and between our collective cum and juices these panties had been through the wars, just like the picture suggested.
I thought well ahead and undressed in the bedroom, loathed as I was to remove the panties that had given me so much pleasure that day, and placed them in an air tight, zip locked bag, pausing for a moment to dream of the next time they would be opened, a man I barely know inhaling my most intimate smells, consuming him as he grew harder and harder at the thought of where they’d once been. I’d only cum ten minutes ago, but I felt ready to go again. And go again I did as he got home 2 minutes later, though the opportunity to thrust last night’s sex in his face was gone, the sex was more than adequate. I explained what I’d done, and as always he approved. He always approved of anything sexual, ever since we met. He was excited as I was about it, not least for the extra cash flow, even if that wasn’t my primary driver.
With dinner out the way, I settled back down to open ATW and see if my listing had caught any traction. Three messages! I opened the first. It was from Luke569 He was enquiring about the panties! I checked his profile and took measure of this man. I read his whole entry, which was well written and concise, but really he had me at worshipping BV knicks. “This guy is for real” I thought to myself, “this guy is what I hoped for”. We set up a sale, which was surprisingly quick. The conversation was flowing, and I found myself really trusting this man. A pang of inexplicable guilt shot through me as his money landed in my account, because this was the least of my concerns. I shot an additional message over, one that had my mind racing and heart beating faster. “You only get to sniff my cunt if you do one more thing for me Luke, I want to see you adding to those cum filled knickers for me, mix mine and yours together and let me see that hard cock exploding. All for me”. He responded in kind “I can’t fucking wait”. The smile that put on my face lasted until I drifted off to sleep and was still there when I woke up from filth filled dreams all night long.
A few days passed, each of which I was talking to Luke about the impending order’s arrival and our mutual love of all thing’s filth, he really did have an active imagination to parallel mine. We couldn’t help but notice from the delivery address that he was in fairly close proximity to me, about an hour drive, fate perhaps? I was in a fairly open relationship in terms of sex, somewhat of a rarity in today’s society but one that my partner and I felt strongly about, and perhaps it’s also what kept us so strong. I wonder if my man would hit it off with Luke as well as I have.
The day finally came. Luke couldn’t have been more pleased. The excitement and lust dripping in his message made my pussy flutter, and it wasn’t difficult for me to reciprocate. As he talked about his hands reaching deep into my knickers and feeling himself grow as his fingers became sopping in the juices within, my fingers went down to join him in my already soaking panties, “I could sell these now” I thought to myself, as I felt how wet Luke was making me. 20 minutes later he sent me a video. I put my earphones in and pressed play. The first shot was a familiar sight; my own white cotton panties, still soaked with my juices despite the 3 days having elapsed, and then a hard cock creeping its way in to shot. “What a fucking amazing cock” I thought, “please dip it in to my juices for me”. I had instructed him to do this and he seemed very eager to please me judging by the filth that followed. He started by slowly wanking his cock with his head almost submerged in my cum. It was almost as if it was settling on the lips of my cunt, knocking on the door to come in to the warmth inside. His other hand came in to shot next as he pulled the knickers up to his face, and the sound of glorious and passionate inhalation filled my ears through my earphones, all the while still wanking that beautiful cock. I was in a frenzy, this turned me on more than I could have imagined when I first contemplated this avenue of pleasure, and I wanted more, more and more. My eyes widened as his breath started to intensify, the cotton panties returning in to shot on to the bed with significantly less cum and juices than before, the thought of him tasting me made me want to cum so hard. His wanking intensified and he shot the biggest load I had ever seen, my cunt tingled as it shot out of his rock-hard manhood and joined the remaining juices on my panties. The cum never seemed to end, and the hushed breathing as he emptied himself for me consumed my mind through my ears, I turned the volume up louder and replayed it several times, playing with myself until I came for him myself.
Our talks intensified, what should we do next? Is a meeting out of the question? I forget who brought it up, but once it was in the conversation, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. We agreed on a scenario that would please us both, and I discussed it with my partner to get his consent, we’d done similar things before with people we knew, but this way the most excited I’d ever been to include someone else in our sex life. The days edged closer to the first of what I hoped to be many meetings.
Saturday came, I had been sex starved for 3 days now, which only felt right to do, I was due to put on the show of a lifetime tonight. We organised our bedroom for the performance, removing any personal artefacts such as pictures and superfluous decorations, so that only our bed and a single chair in front of it remained. Luke’s front row seat. “Better than any cinema” I thought to myself as I lay on the bed contemplating the night ahead. The adrenaline coursed through me.
And there it was, the knock on the front door. We took up our starting positions, him in the ensuite bathroom out of view of the room, whilst I made the journey downstairs to let him. We’d agreed that there would be no greetings, and for now, no talking, and that I was in charge. He’d sent a picture ahead of time and I was so excited to see him in the flesh; to drink him in in person.
I opened the door, and we locked eyes. The eagerness and excitement plain to see. We maintained eye contact for a surprising length of time, considering what I was wearing. His gaze nearly melted me completely before he finally sampled my outfit, long back suspenders attached to lacy panties and a black bra that barely contained my sizeable juicy tits. The chill from outside made my nipples stand to attention, almost bursting through the fabric. He appeared as if he wanted to jump me right there, and I was more than willing, but we must stay true to the scenario, and that we did.
I regained my composure and shot him a devilish smile whilst beckoning him over the threshold of our home. He entered and turned around to close the door, by which time I was at the foot of the stairs, turning my head back to beckon him on. His eyes were directed at my juicy behind, which made me playfully giggle to attract his attention, I showed him I approved, but that he must follow. I walked up the stairs agonisingly slowly, making each cheek jiggle from side to side with each step taken. I could hear his breath quicken in excitement along with slow footsteps that mirrored mine.
I reached the empty bedroom and walked over to the bed, setting myself down with my legs wide open. Now the show really begins. The thought occurred to me that I should have worn white panties, so he could see how wet I was for him, the cherry on the top being the call-back to that wet pussy I saw on the train that day that acted as the inception of this glorious situation. Luke doesn’t seem to mind, he was just as pleased with this lingerie choice and he sniffed the air gratifyingly, he could smell me already, and I loved it. Luke stood respectfully at the door, waiting to be called in. “Sit” I whispered, and I heard a faint stir from the ensuite bathroom, we mustn’t have made enough noise to alert him we were in here. Luke obliged and sat down in his front row seat.
I walked sultrily over to him, pausing directly in front of him, as close to him as I’d been, the skin on his nose almost grazing my navel, he sniffed deeply again, and moaned in excitement. I grabbed his hair roughly, and almost shoved his face right in my cunt then and there, to make him drink deep from my pussy. But that’s not what we agreed on. I resisted, somehow. I moved away from him for fear I may abandon the whole game and make him mine now, and returned to the bed, bending over keeping my legs as long as they were, pert ass in the air inviting a cock or two, and retrieved a box from under the bed. Raising my eyebrows towards him as I opened it. “Take off your clothes Luke”. Wordlessly and eagerly, Luke obliged. And soon his hard cock was on display as he sat back down, never taking his eyes off me as I organised the contents of the box on the bed. His glistening head was dripping with precum already, and it was all I could do to stop myself from cleaning it up with my tongue. I showed him how wet it made me, pausing from my organisation to press my knickers against my cunt with an audible squelch that sent his eyes in to a frenzy. “You’re taking these home with you tonight” I whispered seductively, “but first, close your eyes”.
I placed restraints on his arms and tied him to the side of the chair. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going anywhere, the same treatment was applied to his legs until he became one with the chair, and a gag placed in his mouth, with his audible moans suggesting agreement, as if his twitching cock and pooling precum wasn’t evidence enough. I turned around and made a show of picking up a stray strap that wasn’t needed, keeping my legs straight again, so that my wet cunt was inches away from his face, I jiggled slightly, wafting my juicy stench to pervade his perverted nostrils. I was met with moans of agreement once again; he’s enjoying this as much as I am.
Now was time for the show. “Come” I said, a little louder than I’d been addressing Luke. The bathroom door opened and in came my partner, already rock hard and naked. He was in good shape, tall and athletic, a perfect tool to show Luke what I could do, and what fun we could have. Luke didn’t request it, but I had him wear a mask to obscure his face, this was more about myself and Luke, he was just a cock I was using, and by the looks of it, a willing cock at that.
Luke’s eyes were on him momentarily, that is before I made my move over to where he was standing, and slowly dropped to my knees. My man didn’t move, as he was instructed, as I slowly teased him all over, with my fingernails, my lips, and my tongue, all the while making as much eye contact with Luke as I could. I don’t know who wanted me to take this rock-hard cock in my mouth more, Luke, my man, or me. I eventually obliged, but not before his cock had produced as much precum as Luke had, only right I thought, Luke made the effort, why shouldn’t he as well. It was warm and tasted beautifully, there’s nothing better than a rock-hard delicious cock and I showed this to the two men in the room with the enthusiasm with which I pleasured him. Taking him deep in to my throat, all the way down to his taut balls, to the delightful moans of both men. I paused regularly to tease the head endlessly with my tongue before I dived down to his navel again, his whole length scraping the sides of my lubricated throat as it plunged down in to me. I was born to suck cock. I moved back and forwards down the length, sucking it with a joy and an enthusiasm rarely afforded to most men. There’s a big difference to having your dick sucked by a woman who wants to please you against a woman who wants to please herself, and I get so fucking wet when I have a cock in my mouth, and the performance leaves little doubt about that fact, and the reaction from the two men in the room was leaving no doubt at all. My man, as always was groaning and moaning as he received his ideal blowjob, and the sounds of Luke writhing in his restraints filled the room. He’s barely sat still throughout this performance, and why would he.
My man had all he could handle of my tongue and mouth, I always get him too close to exploding for me that he has to stop, that and he just can’t wait to be inside of me any longer, he grabbed me by the arms and flung me backwards on to the bed, as my head hit the mattress my gaze settled on Luke eyes, it had rarely left it so far. He seemed momentarily shocked at the change in proceedings, but his eyes hungered for more, and mine must have conveyed what I was thinking to him “you’re going to see me get fucked Luke”.
My man rushed to join me on the bed. Luckily, we had landed in such a position that Luke had a perfect view of my body, so we didn’t have to adjust position. My dripping wet pussy was revealed when my man ripped my panties straight off my legs, flung to the side they landed close enough to Luke’s feet that he could no doubt smell my cunt even more now. I pulled my tits out from out of my bra and my man went one better by unhooking and removing it all together. All that was left was my nylon tights, which stayed on due to time constraints; my man wanted to be inside me as soon as possible. There was no need for any more foreplay, I was longing for this cock as soon as he walked out of the bathroom and stood there to attention, after all.
He always has liked to tease the entry, sampling my dripping wet cunt against his glistening head, softly exploring the wetness of my lips and clit before he makes me moan by spearing me as deep as he could. “Please Luke, give me it” I moaned, and in that moment I couldn’t decide if I had said the name Luke because I was maintaining my deep eye contact with him, whether it was because I wanted him so badly, or if it was for the show. Either way it didn’t matter to my man who soon obliged, slowly but forcefully entering my cunt as deep as it would allow, his hard cock twitching violently as it seemed to settle somewhere in my stomach. I screamed out in delight as my legs shivered and shook, and he proceeded to reward that by pounding me as hard as he could, as fast as he could, and for as long as he could, all the while my screams mixed with his heavy breathing and Luke’s writhing “Yes, Yes, YES, Fuck me!” I screamed, staring deep into Luke’s eyes, wondering what it would feel like for him to be inside of me instead, the thought brought me to orgasm in no time, and I had to push him off me for the temporary sensitivity. A pool of my juices was left under me, soaking my back as I moved to sit up.
I felt almost woozy, but I wasn’t done yet. I pointed at my man to lie length ways on the bed, and stood up fully, one leg either side of his upward pointing cock, and facing away from him, eyes on Luke. I paused enough for him to look me up and down. He drank in my tits, which were slightly red from my man grabbing me for leverage as he fucked me moments ago, I had barely noticed. My cunt was literally dripping with my own wetness, and this became more apparent when a droplet fell from my pussy lips and on to my man’s thigh below, Luke’s eyes followed it expertly, and then his gaze returned to mine. I never left his sight as I lowered myself down, squatting to settle just agonizingly out of reach of a twitching, almost pulsating head.
I smiled at Luke as I began to take the whole length of his cock, my expression changing to sheer delight and my eyes fighting to stay open so I wouldn’t leave Luke but desiring to out of the sheer pleasure. I felt my tits bouncing uncontrollably as I rode him like a prize stallion, his hands settled on my hips to keep me in place, endlessly going from tip to naval as this cock repeatedly filled me and satisfied me. It wasn’t long before I came again. I could never tire of this, I could bounce on this cock all day long and never stop, and it seemed like Luke could watch me all day too, though his cock suggested otherwise, I swear it looked like he was ready to cum himself. “How fucking horny that would be” I thought.
Again, my man took control and threw me to his side. Luke wasn’t surprised this time, his change of facial expression suggesting he couldn’t wait to see how this pussy was going to be ruined next rather than the surprise of earlier. My man pulled me up by my hips so I was on my hands and knees, facing sideways to the VIP guest in our filthy theatre. My tits hung there, waiting to be bounced around for Luke’s viewing pleasure. The cock soon obliged, and after a few slow introductory thrusts it was slamming into me repeatedly, my whole body being propelled backwards and forwards on the length of his dick. I screamed louder than before, “Yes, fuck me, show Luke how well I can take your cock, show him, yes, yes, yes!”. Before long came the breathless notice “I’m close”, so I moved in to position for the finale, I jumped down on to the floor, a mere foot away from Luke, and beckoned my prize to my waiting slut mouth. I eagerly sucked the primed meat eagerly awaiting its load, I sucked it as if I intended to suck him dry, I wanted every drop of that cum down my throat and I wanted it now, to drink deep in front of Luke. The explosion came to moans from the chair, as Luke saw the filthy delight on my face as I swallowed each pulsating deposit with glee. My man shuddered with each spurt as I sucked him dry, and soon I had it all, without spilling a drop, I showed Luke what was left in my mouth, and swallowed the last in front of him, never leaving his gaze. Luke shuddered himself, and then relaxed as if spent himself, back into his chair.
The show was over for Luke, or at least that’s what he thought. What had occurred so far is all we had agreed on in our deal made on ATW, but I was eager to give him more, I needed to feel this man on me, I had daydreamed about it since the day I started talking to him. Before my man exited to the bathroom, I commanded him “Put him on his back” to the confusion in Luke’s eyes, but I could tell he was excited. The masked man shrugged and obliged, carefully lowering him, still tied to the chair, on to his back on the floor. If he was uncomfortable, he didn’t let on, and even if he was, he wouldn’t mind suffering it for what I was about to bestow on to him.
Still naked but for the nylons, I stood either side of his head. What a sight this would be to him; the view to the ceiling obscured by my long legs, dripping wet pussy, big, beautiful tits and cascading hair reaching down to him, behind which sat the most devilish smile I could muster in the moment. “You’ve been such a good audience for us today Luke, I wanted to give you a treat, would you like that?” Luke’s glance moved to the panties that lay a few feet away from his head, as if it to say “you’ve already promised me an extra treat” after which his eyeline met mine again. “Oh you’re taking those home with you, to taste me at your leisure, and I can tell you know they’re extremely wet and smelly for you Luke, I’ve been dripping all day at the thought of what was going to happen today. You can put them on your face and inhale me whilst you stroke that hard dick for me, you can cum in them again for me and show me, you already know how much that excites me. But I have something else in mind right now” Another devilish smile took over my face and I titled my head for added effect “But wouldn’t you prefer to taste the real thing, Luke?”
I wish I had a picture of the look on his face when I asked that simple question. I’d never seen anyone want something so much as Luke wanted me to sit on his face right there and then. It filled me with intense excitement, but I kept the façade of composure as I bent gently down to remove the gag from his mouth, I put my finger to my lips to beckon him to remain quiet, it turned me on so much for there to be minimal speaking; and all action.
I was in a minxy mood so once the gag was removed I moved as if to sit but then stood up abruptly and walked away from Luke. His head had begun to move upwards, inviting my wet cunt down on to his face, but now it slammed back on to the floor in exasperation as he moaned with disappointment. “I don’t want you to forget your treat Luke”. I picked up the panties off the floor and played with them with my thumb and forefinger, they really were soaking wet with the afternoon’s anticipation of all that’s just transpired. “Mmm, they’re almost as creamy as the ones I sent you and I haven’t even cum in these Luke, how you do excite me.” I walked over to where he had flung his jeans and stuffed them in his pocket. “There, you won’t forget them this way. Now where were we, oh yes”. I moved back in to position, and before he could moan, sat directly on to his face. I felt his nose against my clit, and his tongue enter deep into me. He moaned louder than ever, and in turn, so did I. I moved back so I could look down and see his eyes staring back at me, for him to taste me at his own pleasure, he licked my lips and teased my clit with an expert softness known only to men who knew how to truly pleasure a woman. After a while sampling this delightful tongue, I sat forward once more, giving him my whole weight and wet cunt along with it. I used his face to rub all over my pussy, feeling the wetness of his tongue mix with my juices, riding his face to the point of orgasm and beyond. When I was done with him, and fully spent, I stood up and released him from his restraints, and walked over to the bathroom as we had agreed, Luke was to clean up all signs of there having been sex happening there and leave without a word. I joined my man in the bathroom and we giggled about another experience well had, and emerged 20 minutes later to a clean bedroom, the only hint of what occurred being the sweet, sweet smell still lingering in the air. Today would be a day I would remember for the longest time.
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2024.02.28 21:03 wjbc Why I love Leo Tolstoy's novel War and Peace.

Lots of people find Leo Tolstoy's novel War and Peace intimidating because of its length, its literary reputation, and the number of Russian names. I don't see it recommended on Reddit as much as, say, Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo or Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. And I don't intend to bad mouth those great books, I like them too, although not as much as I like War and Peace. I just want to articulate why I love War and Peace.
I first read War and Peace because it was assigned in college. I read a lot of books for college courses, as I was a humanities major. I admired almost all of them (except a book by philosopher Georg Hegel that I still don't recommend), but Tolstoy's War and Peace is the only book I reread, voluntarily, for my own amusement, several times since college. So this is why I like it so much.
War and Peace is an unusual novel. Much of it is pure history, and much of it is philosophy, both of which interest me. And yet the novelistic parts are so well done that I find it hard to put down.
I turned my parents on to it as well. My father was not a fast reader, but he enjoyed it. I thought he would, because we both enjoyed war stories like Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant, or Shelby Foote’s three volume The Civil War: A Narrative.
My mother was hesitant because she was not a fan of war stories, but she liked it. After she read it, she said she forgot the second half of the title was “Peace.” She loved all the descriptions of life in Russia far from the battles, or during times of peace between the battles. And she tolerated the battles.
In addition to the war story, there’s a lot of romance, gone wrong and gone right. There are young men getting in and out of trouble. There are religious pilgrims, country estates, grand balls, and aristocratic salons. There’s political intrigue and battles for money that are less violent but almost as vicious as battles with Napoleon. In short, there's a lot more of Jane Austen in War and Peace than most people realize. But there's a good deal of Alexandre Dumas' exciting and violent manly adventures as well.
Tolstoy, himself an aristocrat, did not have the common man view of another great 19th century Russian author, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Although well educated, Tolstoy also didn't need to work for a living, and left university to live in leisure. After running up heavy gambling debts, though, he suddenly needed an income. As many Russian aristocrats who needed a job did in those days, young Tolstoy joined the army as an officer.
Tolstoy’s experience in the Russian army and subsequent trips around Europe turned him into a serious spiritual anarchist — or Christian socialist — who believed the Russian state and the aristocrats who ran it were thoroughly corrupt. Having lived among Russian aristocrats all his life, he was in a position to know. So although his novels depict the world of Russia’s ruling class, they also convey his deep skepticism about the quality and effectiveness of aristocratic rule.
Tolstoy’s other great novel Anna Karenina is even more on point, and arguably foretells the Russian Revolution, or at least some catastrophic event towards which Russia was headed during Tolstoy’s lifetime. But War and Peace is a historical novel, and the subject is Russia’s great triumph, defeating Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812 and sending him home with a very depleted army.
The Russians not only destroyed Napoleon's army, they also destroyed his reputation for invincibility, and within a few years Napoleon's great European empire had collapsed. So although the faults of Russians are on full display in Tolstoy's novel, so are their strengths and triumphs.
At the time Tolstoy wrote War and Peace, the Great Man Theory of history was popular. The theory is primarily attributed to the Scottish essayist, historian, and philosopher Thomas Carlyle, who gave a series of lectures on heroism in 1840, later published as On Heroes, Hero-Worship, & the Heroic in History. Carlyle stated that "The History of the world is but the Biography of great men." Carlyle divides these leaders into several different categories: The divine (Odin and other pagan gods who represent the heroic spirit), prophet (Muhammad), poet (Dante and Shakespeare), priest (Luther and Knox), philosopher (Johnson and Rousseau) and king (Cromwell and Napoleon).
Tolstoy strongly disagreed with the Great Man Theory. He also disagreed with the view that Napoleon, for better or for worse, was primarily responsible for monumental changes in European history. He believed the causes of historical events are infinitely varied and forever unknowable to humans.
When Tolstoy was a young officer in the army, he was tasked with interrogating soldiers after battles to find out what had happened. He discovered that if he conducted his interrogations within two hours of the battle, he would get many different stories, almost all of which were contradictory. They could not all be true. Indeed, Tolstoy questioned whether any of them were true, and whether anyone but an omniscient God could know what had really happened.
But if he repeated his interrogations more than 24 hours after the battle, Tolstoy would suddenly get pretty much the same story from everyone, even including those who had given him different stories two hours after the battle. That's because during the 24 hours after a battle, the soldiers and officers would informally talk with each other about what had happened and why. But although they would gradually agree upon a story, that didn't mean the story was true. It just meant it was agreeable to everyone, and eventually it would be reported as fact, and written down in history books as fact, and passed on to future generations as fact. But it wasn't fact. It was just the story that had won the most advocates and became accepted as fact.
Thus when Tolstoy wrote War and Peace, he did his own research. He visited battlefields, read history books on the Napoleonic Wars, and drew on real historical events. He doesn't claim to tell the true story -- after all, he wrote a work of fiction, not yet another questionable history. But he pokes countless holes in the accepted histories of what occurred.
For example, Tolstoy shows why an inarticulate non-aristocratic artillery man might not get credited for true heroism, where a loud aristocratic officer might demand too much credit and get it. He shows why Napoleon or the Russian Tsar might get credited for anything that went right, while their underlings might be blamed for anything that went wrong. He showed why bold but foolish soldiers or officers might be seen as heroes, while cautious but wise soldiers or officers might be seen as underachievers, or worse yet as cowards.
Whether the stories happened as Tolstoy describes, i.e., whether Tolstoy got it right, isn't the point. The point is that we've all seen credit go to the wrong people, and can easily believe it would happen the way Tolstoy describes. The novel is clearly fiction, but Tolstoy reveals a truth about widely-accepted histories.
Tolstoy leads his readers to question official accounts and histories, even those based on so-called contemporaneous accounts written more than 24 hours after a battle. Yes, memories are fresh 24 hours after a battle, but they've already been tainted, and the account everyone agreed upon is certain to be inaccurate.
Thus, according to Tolstoy the significance of great individuals is imaginary. Even a man like Napoleon is only one of "history's slaves," realizing the decree of Providence.
This is a diversion, but there's another person often considered a Great Man of History who was a near contemporary of Napoleon's: George Washington. Like Napoleon, Washington was a general and leader of his country, but that's where the similarities end. For Washington, unlike Napoleon, never considered himself indispensable to the success of the American Revolution or the new government of the United States. Washington commonly credited Providence for any success he may have had, and calmly accepted setbacks as the work of Providence as well.
Early in Washington's life, when he was only 23 in 1755, he had reason to believe in Providence. For as he said in a letter to his brother after a battle in the French and Indian War:
By the all-powerful dispensations of Providence, I have been protected beyond all human probability and expectation; for I had four bullets through my coat, and two horses shot under me, yet escaped unhurt, altho' death was levelling my companions on every side.
Napoleon probably would have taken that to mean that Providence intended him to be great, and to be acclaimed as great. But Washington seems to have taken it to mean that his achievements should be credited to Providence, not to him. And he also had faith that the country could get along without him.
Anyway, that's why I recommend War and Peace. As for the length and number of names, it's not so difficult. The important characters are highly memorable, and if a book is good I want it to be longer, not shorter. The plot is quite easy to follow -- Tolstoy is not James Joyce. I'm sure any avid reader can handle it, and shouldn't pass it up for that reason.
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2024.02.25 00:34 gutfounderedgal THE TUNNEL, Week 5 “Uncle Balt and the Nature of Being” (Pages 116-146)

1. Summary

Uncle Balt is provided with a shout-riddled biography, as seen often through the eyes of ten-year-old Kohler. A mention of Kohler’s part in Kristallnacht, (9-10 November 1938) appears and we discover Kohler married only two years after those fateful nights. We meet the extended family. Kohler ponders and prevaricates on history throughout, as usual. Uncle Balt and the Nature of Being 1.1 Loudmouthed, a man with a bull’s bellow, bucking against puritanism, drinking the hard stuff, farmer, toiler of the land is introduced and described extensively. He lost his wife years ago and remains a bachelor, holding opinions that women engage in frivolous pastimes such as shopping, playing bridge, and golfing (119) and not realizing or not caring about the amount of work women do. “My grandmother slaved” (119). By the end of the section Balt is found dead, having snapped a leg climbing over a fence (126), by kids from the Conservation Corps.

1.2 Mad Meg

Tabor muses on history and offers advice on writing history to Kohler. A historian approaches events with one eye shut, framing events into the narrative that is desired. “You must make of them what you–what you—want them to make…” (127).

1.3 The Ghost Folks

We are going visit your father’s family, says Marty and off they go into the present and past. We discover the tree-like form of the family so, besides Uncle Balt we recognize: William Frederick Kohler (aka WFK [probably a nod to H.C.E. in Joyce’s Ulysses], Whiff Cough, and Herr Rickler), Martha Krause Muhlenberg (Marty, Peg, once PP FinneyneeFeeney), His mother Margaret Phelps Finney, a raging alcoholic, his father Frederick Karl Kohler, her mother Ruth Dilschneider, her father Henry Herman Muhlenberg, and her two sisters Cramer and Catherine (the younger); we also meet Kohler’s two sons, now grown and left, Carl and one he won’t name. Over time, his parents didn’t age, they simply sickened (135). His mother who had an affair with the breadman (rolling in dough, evidently) died five years before his father.

2. Analysis

Sections here, such as with Uncle Balt are perhaps characterized by less overt wordplay than previously seen. The narrative is in this first part more straightforward in comparison to some other parts including the last section of this reading section.

2.1 Uncle Knuckle

Uncle Balt is said to be the term, not the relation. We may read this in one of two ways, as in math where a term is a value upon which operations occur, and relation is relationship between numbers or sets, 3 has the relation of being less than 5, four legs is a relation to the set of all animals. Or, Balt is conceptualized as not a relation, as in family relationship but as something upon which the world acts, outside of the hysterics or dysfunction of the family.

2.2 In a Family Way

Once we enter The Ghost Folks, all chronological and memory hell breaks out in a beautiful brawl. It seems that everybody vibrates at a pitch. Tolstoy said, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” But here it seems that Gass is showing us that all unhappy families are alike in their dysfunctionality. It’s oppressive. He says, “My god, to be a man as I am—smothered with women and children like a duck with onions” (146). Family past and present tumble about and like Jacque Derrida’s idea of hauntology, specters haunt the present from beyond their graves creating an eerie space in which time collapses. Each memory becomes both a reality and a disturbance.

2.3 Is History Hysterical? Is Hermeneutics Heuristic?

While we’ve seen history in action, so to speak, there is some clear articulation of history and historiography in the section. Hermeneutics: the interpretation of the history book. Kohler thinks that his colleagues see time and history within time as linear, a slice of ongoing eternity (p. 129) in contrast to his view of time as “sifting and sweeping, piddling itself away” (129). We have heard previously from Tabor but now Oscar Planmantee is positioned as Kohler’s nemesis (129). For Planmantee (the plan man to a T), described as “a pompous positivist” (44), a mereological mindset governs the writing of history in which parts must be put into the right order to add up to the whole, “events are made of events” (139). One takes the colliding rebounding events, much like grains of rice thrown at a wedding (140) and orders them according to laws. What one needs, Planmantee says, is “an honest footing” (129). As for the rest: lives, human sufferings, “We average them out” says Planmantee (130). Mad Meg Tabor takes a slightly different view. You, as the historian select, to enter your work of history people and events must wait in line (127), they must to be selected to gain their posterity. While you may exclude nothing, Tabor also advises to discriminate, “don’t water too widely” (127). Here we begin to see the contrast of Kohler in which signifiers, words as things of the world, for example, an arbitrary relationship, lead into signifiers that signify other signifiers, chains, links, rhizomes, an arena where time and present, as with hauntology, blend, a place in which the molar and the molecular are both fluid and equivalent.

2.4 Windows are the eyes to the soul

I point out here the recurring theme of windows. Kohler says “Window through window: I want to pass” (146). And we find a good deal of the smashing or blowing in of windows, with a lightning strike (113, 116), the shattering glass of Kristallnacht. We get to keep this in mind as we watch for echoes.

3. Discussion questions

I’m happy to read your responses, opinions, speculations, and cited passages that may back up your views. 1. Kohler is angry, in a pervasive, ongoing sense. On page 43 he says, “When is the rage I contain going to find its utterance?” and in this section upon visiting his parents he says, “I shall be in a rage” (129). Many people work through their anger, or they have coping strategies that allow problematic events in life to roll off them, and they move on. Kohler seems stuck in anger. Questions for consideration: Why do you think Kohler is so angry? Why can’t he let go? Is an entry into this his musing “We’ve not lived the right life” (145) or is it a lot deeper? 2. Uncle Balt brings up Heidegger and Being. “He was Dasein’s quiet cancellation. Dasein indeed” (116). “Anyhow, Uncle Balt has yielded me a metaphor for Being, makeshift maybe, but an image in the form of a tall dark column of damp air, hole going nowhere—yes—wind across the mouth of a bottle” (121). Gass has used “being” as a noun before. But here we see “being” with a small b as changed to Being with a capital B, (he did capitalize it on 75 and you may find referencing that page helps in answering the questions) directly referencing Heidegger. Clearly the Uncle Balt section does not dive into an inquiry of Being nor of Heidegger. Questions for consideration: So why do you think Gass has done this? Has he engaged in a sleight of hand and Balt is not about being? If so, why? Has he explained the relationship of Balt and Being in a way that is more elliptical but nevertheless overt? How so? Why is Galt said to represent Being but not others?

Helpful vocabulary

A couple of words were tossed out that can be given a brief definition to save internet seeking. Dasein – Heidegger’s neutral term for our existence in a sense “being there” or “there being.” We are just here, beings in the world. Dasein can be examined for our understanding of our being. being – small b, refers to an individual thing that has Being or to a specific kind of being such as a human being. Being – capital B, refers to a quality shared by all beings. Being, reality, existence in general.
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2024.01.30 17:11 wrong_gateway In defence of Joyce Dahmer

In defence of Joyce Dahmer
Jeffrey's mother in the official narrative has been definitely presented in a negative light, but sadly, no one really cared what she had to say or given her a chance to defend herself.
Lionel Dahmer in his book, A father's story, set the tone for how we ought to perceive Joyce with the very first page. Neurotic, sensitive to trivial, unpleasant things, in need of tenderness and attention. So nervous it led to debilitating muscle spasm, which she eventually had to alleviate with medications. Medications prescribed by doctors were: barbiturates, morphine, phenobarbital.
"She took 26 pills a day", we read. The fact is, such medications increase the risk of birth defects (like cleft palate) or learning disabilities. We have no proof Joyce took those drugs, especially for an extended period, and we have no evidence Jeff's development was in any way disturbed. From all we know, he was a healthy human with at least average IQ.
Lionel then admits he was rarely present at home when Joyce was pregnant with Jeff, especially the last two months, because he was working and studying for his master's degree. She had to stay home bound with his mother, and if she expressed resentment, he said, "it was not a reaction that anyone should find surprising." After Jeffrey's birth, we can read about how Joyce couldn't nurse him, about how she abruptly left the house after an argument and Lionel found her somewhere lying in a field of grass. We read that: "On some occasions, when I would fight back vigorously, Joyce would seize a kitchen knife and make jabbing motions".
Why all these excessive, private details to which mention Joyce never agreed to, because she wasn't included? Is it a book about Jeffrey from the perspective of his father, or a biography of his father? Why are we reading about his mother, if not because it has some significance to the story?
Lionel and Shari talking about the amount of pills Joyce consumed during Jeff's pregnancy or that she didn't touch him (numerous photos say otherwise), prove it wasn't just about providing some background info, some insight into Jeff's childhood and family life. There is a peculiar, disproportionate placement of blame on Joyce.
Jeffrey obviously wasn't a serial killer and yet, we are led to believe that drugs, prescribed by doctors, affected negatively Jeff's developing brain. Brain which was perfectly normal. He also wasn't diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder or psychopathy. Why the outlandish, unsubstantiated speculation that drugs impacted his growth? Where was Lionel when Joyce supposedly took those harmful drugs?
Even if he was a murderer, to this day, no correlation between drugs and psychopathy was found. This is all extremely absurd, and yet you can see people repeating this bizarre theory all the time. It's a doctor's fault to prescribe drugs which might be dangerous to a developing fetus. Was someone trying to instil fear in parents, especially mothers, that they could create a monstrous child by seeking healthcare during pregnancy? Did Lionel try to make his ex-wife hated and promote the idea that mothers are 100% to blame for what their children do?
In 2000, a rather unknown book called The Silent Victims was published. We have no evidence Joyce actually participated in the creation of this book, but nonetheless, her story is told there. Worth mentioning, Joyce passed away on November 27 in 2000, after fighting with cancer. At some point, the author described this event:
https://preview.redd.it/4yq1vdfzclfc1.jpg?width=320&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5701676631751316510f0c6cc88914ae65bca4d0
Now, what was the point of mentioning it? There is nothing new or useful being said. This fragment only repeats what we are led to believe: Jeff was left alone after his parents divorce, it was awful to him, and this is the time when he indulged in his twisted fantasies and killed Steven Hicks. However... Jeffrey was 18 at this time, he was about to start college soon, and he was likelier than not happy to have the house all to himself for some time. We have no proof it was a traumatic event to him. He had money, he invited friends. Since Hicks died that summer, after Joyce left, she is blamed for his death.
Interestingly, Lionel had some strange things to say about that: "I often called the house. Suddenly, in August, those calls were not answered. I phoned every day for seven days, and there was still no answer. I took to driving by the house, and when, after three days, I had not so much as seen Joyce's car in the driveway, I decided that I had no choice but to check the house".
What kind of father suspects something bad only after 7 days of silence? Why on Earth did he drive by the house three times, instead of just coming in to check if everything is alright? Lionel was obviously making things up, but notice how he never gets blamed for abandoning Jeff or his murders. He even presented himself as a saviour who moved in with Shari, so Jeff wouldn't have to be alone. Meanwhile, Lionel sent him money and must have known that Joyce moved out with his son :)
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2024.01.29 20:49 xstitchxchris I'd love some recommendations for contemporary authors I might enjoy

Hi! I've loved books for as long as I can remember (I just turned 45 last week). Over the past couple of years I've made reading a bigger priority in my life (instead of scrolling on my phone or watching a TV show before going to sleep, I'll read, and it's helped me sleep better and become happier overall). Goodreads says I read 82 books in 2023. So far, in January, I've read One Hundred Years of Solitude, Blood Meridian, and Lincoln in the Bardo (among others).
I've been trying to read a mixture of classics and contemporary books (lots classic novels and contemporary nonfiction). I'd like to read more new and recent fiction but there aren't a ton of authors I enjoy and would love some suggestions of others I might like. Here are the contemporary authors I do really love: Megan Abbott, Michael Chabon, James Ellroy, Katie Kitamura, Rachel Kushner, Jonathan Lethem, Ottessa Moshfegh, Joyce Carol Oates, Tea Obreht, Karen Russell, George Saunders, Zadie Smith, and Colson Whitehead. That, though, seems paltry compared the amount of fiction that is being published right now. I only finished one 2023 novel last year (All-Night Pharmacy) and DNF The Biography of X.
I think I read an interesting and diverse collection of books but feel overwhelmed whenever I walk into a bookstore.
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2023.12.29 17:42 SnyderpittyDoo Check this out: https://web.archive.org/web/19990302023516/http://www.runningwithscissors.com/thebook.htm Does anyone know about never released Postal book?

Check this out: https://web.archive.org/web/19990302023516/http://www.runningwithscissors.com/thebook.htm Does anyone know about never released Postal book? submitted by SnyderpittyDoo to postal [link] [comments]


2023.11.21 00:13 Greatingsburg [Discussion] The Tale of the Body Thief by Anne Rice Chapter 6 - Chapter 10

Hey you!
Feeling a bit too lively? How about a little body swap with a 200 year old dead body? Don’t worry, the vampire ESP will make up for the stiff experience.
I ain’t afraid of no Talamasca occultist.. and neither is Lestat! Now that the stranger has finally shown his true(ish) face and fulfilled Lestat’s biggest wish (for now) we’re off to a not so great start in chilly Washington D.C. Let's see how Lestat pulls off a tan in this frosty atmosphere!
Yup, we are back with the second check-in of The Tale of the Body Thief, covering chapters 6 to 10. This is a link to the schedule if you got lost in the Talamasca archives where you must have found this very secret book, and this is a link to the marginalia if you cannot wait to read on!
I don’t know how the rest of you are feeling, but is every vampire color blind? There were a lot of red flags in this section, it was a real bloodbath! See you all in the comments 🌙✨
Summary
Chapter 6
Paris.
Lestat wants to find out if he is being followed, so he travels to Paris without telling anyone and without bringing any money. Don't worry, he's going to steal from his victims if he needs anything. It's not like he has any rules preventing him from doing exactly that.
He then forgets about his plan for a bit and decides to do a Treat Yo Self weekend. Chilling out in the Ritz (how much money did he steal?), he reads David's manuscripts and finds out more about him.
David was born as a superior, very athletic hunter, but his experience in Brazil had left him a different man (with telepathy!). Lestat compares him to his previous companions. He thinks none of them had truly been like Lestat except for Claudia. And now David.
Walking to Paris, Lestat wonders what makes its population so different from Americans. And he fantasizes about visiting the buildings of his past. Then, he spots his stalker.
A bodily sensation of disassociation like last time comes over him. It stops and the man scoots over strangely to hand him another envelope. This time containing a video tape ("Vice Versa)"). He has a British accent as he announces a once-in-a-lifetime proposition. But he declines talking about it here in the open and then runs off again.
Another envelope with a video tape ("All of Me)") is waiting in Lestat's hotel room. This apparently broke the came's back, and he orders David to come to Paris at once. He then finds an abandoned place to sleep, wondering if the stalker will find him there.
The next night, David pinpoints to Lestat what the stranger is trying to tell him: He proposes a body switch. Lestat at once puzzles together what he found so strange about him before. The man must already be in a foreign body, that is why he is moving so clumsily. And the sensation Lestat was feeling was an attempt at body switching. David warns Lestat of the dangers and illegitimacy of the procedure, but Lestat is too "powerfully curious" to be influenced by anthing David has to say. So he offers to search the Talamasca database and makes Lestat promise to not doo anything drastic until he knows more.
Lestat prepares to visit Louis when he finds a letter from the stranger, calling himself Raglan James. Raglan warns him not to listen to David and sets an appointment in New Orleans the following night.
He lingers a bit longer in Paris, reminiscing about his time there with Nicki, when he hears the laughter of a child, Claudia. He is reminded of her horrible death and calms himself by reassuring himself that she didn't suffer.
Chapter 7
New Orleans.
Lestat visits the old building in the Rue Royale, reminiscing on his life with Claudia and Louis. He thinks to himself how different New Orleans’ inhabitants are to the rest of America, before heading uptown to Louis.
He finds Louis reading by candlelight in a dilapidated cottage, wearing old-fashioned clothes. Lestat takes some time to just observe him without announcing himself (which he apparently does regularly) and comments on how bad Louis' living conditions are and how he secretly hopes that Lestat will make it all better - but he would never admit it to Lestat. He only shows is subtly by visiting Lestat in his luxurious homes and watching movies there. He also notes how weak Louis is, because he doesn't allow himself to drink Lestat's superior blood. And even though they technically cannot read each other's minds, Lestat is convinced their bond is strong enough for "feelings and longings" to be palpable.
[Note: Sorry for jumping in here, but Lestat has managed to do in three pages what three books could not accomplish, and that is to make me feel something for Louis. Let the man read in peace Lestat, in whatever reading speed he wants to read.]
He finally announces himself by sitting down on the armchair he has brought over for himself and Louis notices him with the immensely emotional outcall “ah, you!”.
Lestat comments on Louis' immense beauty, before he tracks Louis' shock at his new skin tone. Lestat immediatly denies that this was a suicide attempt and instead tells him about Raglan James and his proposition.
Louis (understandably) asks if Lestat has lost his mind and tells him to kill him because of the danger he poses and the danger he could cause once in Lestat's body. He doesn't stop there, though, and goes on deriding Lestat's idea of ever becoming human and accuses him of being born a monster (ouch). They then each pettily insult's each others autobiographies.
Lestat goes into the garden to calm down a bit and think about what just happened. Afterwards, both have calmed down a bit. Lestat tries to explain his motivation by saying every human wants to become a vampire and every vampire wants to become human again. He supports this idea by reminding himself that even Louis' gave in to becoming a vampire.
Louis wants to know how the man could find Lestat, which Lestat doesn’t really care about but assumes it is because he can wander as a spirit and thus track him. Louis thinks this being is worse than a vampire, and that he must come from the Talamasca. He admits that he loves Lestat, but that Lestat is careless and always has to win, and that this is the reason Raglan has chosen him. Lestat admits that no matter what he or David will say, he will do whatever he wants anyway. When Lestat complains that he always scolds him, Louis explains that Lestat seeks those who scold him.
Louis then apologizes for his outburst and Lestat accepts the apology. But Louis promises he will kill Raglan if he sees him.
Lestat goes back to his home in New Orleans and watches a few videos (“wallowing in rank materialism for a couple hours”) before going out to hunt. He walks to the twin river bridges (Crescent City Connection) he calls Dixie Gates and comments on the beauty of bridges, before killing some people. He walks back to the now deserted cottage while he constantly looks out for Raglan and while singing to himself and weeping (is this a breakdown?).
Just before sunrise he goes downtown to the St. Louis Cathedral and lights a candle there. He hears footsteps and believes it is Claudia, but it is (“only”) Louis. He warns Lestat that something bad is going to happen, before slipping away again. Lestat follows him for a while before closing up the church.
Chapter 8
New Orleans.
Lestat goes to the meeting place in Jackson Square and sees Raglan James. He takes a moment to appreciate the body he’s about to rent. When Lestat voices his dislike of the man, Raglan answers that rudeness would be a dreadful mistake (great start) and it becomes clear that he can read Lestat’s thoughts. He explains that he comes from Georgetown, but would like to escape the coldness. He also shares that he doesn’t like the body he is currently occupying, and that he sees himself as a body thief (even better). Also, he would like to swap bodies with Lestat for a week. He can also give him certificates of this body’s health (no red flags at all). He readily admits that he tried to steal Lestat’s body too (“can’t blame me for that now, can you?” - well I can!), but more for attention than anything else. The swapping is done by rising out of the body and then taking possession of the other body - consent required, different from the possession David described.
Souls are made of two parts, a larger part is the conscious mind, and a smaller part that keeps the body and brain in working condition. When the conscious mind leaves the body, the residual part is left, and can “lock” with another conscious soul. When death occurs, both soul parts leave. In a competition, the residual soul will always choose the original larger soul.
Raglan then advertises his body again, saying the former owner didn’t have a mind left and is now dead. He shows Lestat a photograph of Raglan's original body, an old British looking man.
He tells Lestat he is not the first to have learnt the body switching trick. We learn he was part of the Talamasca, where he learnt of Lestat. He also knows David, whom he calls a liar and controlling - but he recommends him as a character reference for Raglan. He got thrown out for stealing, refusing his request for a first-class passage with the Queen Elizabeth 2 (the ship, not the person). He notes he saw a locket in the Talamasca archives.
Raglan tracked Lestat by leaving his body for short periods of time and by digitally stalking him. We find out he has perfected this because of his time in prison. He asks for 10 mio in return for the body switch, which Lestat calls mundane. At least Raglan gives Lestat a privilege check (remember that money tower you woke up in, Lestat?). He also calls him out on stealing from his victims.
Whenever Lestat tries to think for a second, Raglan budges in urging him to decide now, act quickly, and don’t throw away this one in a lifetime opportunity!!!
They settle on two nights, one day, passport, credit card and petty cash on arrival. The switch will happen in Georgetown on Wednesday. But no code words - Raglan is adamanat and Lestat gives in to that. Also, Lestat isn't allowed to spy on Raglan to which Lestat also agrees!
Lestat wonders why Raglan doesn’t enjoy being in this young body, but Raglan only wants to be older, richer, stronger, wiser (Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger?). Also, he has stolen everything except an entire body of blood.
After the conversation Lestat is afraid of facing the others. He goes back to his apartment and ponderes on the idea of a disembodied soul and how this soul would not be able to die. He then calls his agent to arrange the transactions for the body switch.
Chapter 9
New Orleans.
Lestan prepares everything for the transaction of the 10 mio., making sure there is no loophole for Raglan James, using various aliases and code names and agents. Raglan would only be able to access the money for a short period of time, after which it would be gone. His agents are already used to this (Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you).
Meanwhile, David is trying to reach Lestat, but Lestat is busy and unplugs the phone. Instead, he fantasizes how great it must be to be human again and justifying the pursuit of it to himself and play down whatever danger Raglan might pose.
Afraid Raglan might not bring the body back, Lestat doubles the amount to 20 mio.
Finally ready to be contacted by David, David immediately corroborates Raglan's story. They find out that the body Raglan currently occupies belongs to a man who was in a hospital for the criminally insane for killing his family while under the influence of drugs. Raglan posing as hospital staff stole the body, killed the man, and escaped. Raglan's original body was riddled with cancer. David doesn't rule out the possibility that Raglan committed the murders in the man's body.
Lestat doesn’t believe Raglan could deceive him, because he has told him his real name. David counters he did this precisely so David could confirm his powers. And he advises Lestat to stop any contact with Raglan. Lestat attributes David's opinion to wounded pride. David points out that Raglan chose Lestat because of his volatile nature (hey, like Louis!).
Lestat doesn’t understand why the soul of the man did not escape the old body and inquires David about near death experiences, claiming the “gateway” only opens to the whole soul.
David gives Lestat some more background on Raglan: He comes from a rich family, but they lost their money. His mother was a medium and loved her son. His father worked in shipping and on the Queen Elizabeth 2. Raglan was hired by the same company, but left in disgrace after stealing money from them. The father disowned him. He then continually attracts a following through his supernatural abilities, deceives them, and ends up in prison. A pattern?
Lestat feels he understands the man - the thefts are symbolic and it’s all a game to him. Lestat wants to hang up, but David warns him that like attracts like and a sorcerers magic rebounds if used in a selfish way.
Lestat asks him about the locket, and David agrees he has seen it. Then he hangs up and unplugs the phone again.
He again hears laughter, when he realizes it’s him laughing, happy at the possibility that lies before him. Lestat is convinced Raglan is telling the truth about the body switching.
Georgetown).
Lestat arrives at the townhouse. It has an expensive interior. He hides money as a precaution and sees Raglan approaching. Then he notices a large German shepherd named Mojo. He marvels at the dog, which is friendly to him. When Raglan enters, the dog immediately barks and doesn't like him. It turns out that the dog belongs to the former owners of the house that Raglan stole. Raglan presses Lestat again, saying he won't wait forever for his answers. Lestat only wants him to treat the dog well as an additional condition.
As Lestat falls asleep, he remembers the dogs he had as a boy in France. He closes the chapter with the information that the dog has no bearing on the story.
Chapter 10
Georgetown. Wednesday.
Lestat is back at the townhouse and prods Raglan to give him the details of his body-switching while the dog watches. Raglan admits that he was looking for a man who was psychologically damaged enough. He convinced the man that he was trying to help him before taking control. He then killed the man in Raglan's original body, calling it mercy. He denies having anything to do with the murder of the family.
Raglan again advertises this beautiful body and comments that David should not be believed because he has a slave mentality. Raglan congratulates Lestat on doubling the money, and he gives several reasons why he wouldn't harm Lestat once he acquired the vampire body. 1. Lestat's soul might escape the mortal body. 2. Lestat's friends would know if Raglan tried to harm him. And that's it. Wow.
Lestat comments on the similarity between Raglan’s and David’s mannerisms.
Raglan doesn’t want any instructions from Lestat for when he is in the vampire body, because he’s done his research on vampires already.
He again says that the Talamasca (and David) are only interested in him to get a sample of him.
Raglan admits he is clumsy in this body because it is too larg and athletic for him (wink wink). He then interrupts their talk again, urging Lestat to finally do the body switcheroo!
They exchange passports (both forged), and Lestat shows him the wads of cash he's brought with him. Raglan doesn't seem very interested. Raglan shows him car keys and recommends an Italian restaurant.
They switch bodies, and Lestat cries out with joy as Raglan makes the light bulb explode. Mojo barks. Raglan's voice is shrill and painful to Lestat's human ears. Raglan then dances out of the townhouse, wreaking havoc and shattering everything he touches, grinning as Lestat remains in the dark, cold house.
Links and notes
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2023.10.21 18:02 moonbearsun A biography update

Hi guys!
I'm the writer working on a biography of Elliott. It won't be out for a few more years—I only started in earnest in Feb. 2022, although of course I've been listening to Elliott for a lot longer! I'm not on Reddit much these days because I've been focused on the book but with the anniversary today I thought I would give you a broad update.
I'm really touched by all the people who have trusted me with their stories about Elliott and their relationship with him, and really excited that I'll have so much to share with you that's new. That includes stories—SO many stories—but also archival material we haven't seen before that illuminates Elliott's process as a songwriter.
The bulk of my work so far has been research and interviews, and organizing that material. I'm trying to be as careful and thorough as possible; personally I feel that previous books about Elliott could have benefitted from a lot more time and thought, and while part of me wishes I could finish sooner, I also think Elliott deserves so much better than something that feels rushed. It's also (understandably) taken months just for people to feel comfortable talking with me, so you can probably imagine how much of my work has been checking in gently on folks and waiting. For some people, twenty years is still too soon.
So that's what I've been up to, and some background on the timeline.
There's a lot that was hard in his life and I'm not shying away from that in the book; I think part of the work of remembering anyone is remembering what they struggled through, because part of being human is recognizing that in each other. But to mark the day I thought I would share a few of the things I learned that suggest the breadth of his interests and what brought him joy.
-He read Beckett, Joyce, Tolstoy, Musil, Flannery O'Connor, Stendhal, Bulgakov, Dostoevsky. He loved Beckett and Dostoevsky especially. He nearly quoted Beckett in a couple songs. He read poetry.
-Beyond all the music everyone knows he loved, there's so much more. He loved De La Soul and memorized most of De La Soul is Dead, their 1991 album. He liked Public Enemy and went to see them live. He was obsessed with My Bloody Valentine. Loveless blew everyone's minds when it came out.
-Once a neighbor called the cops on his high school band when they were playing a party in someone's basement. When the police arrived, they were in the middle of playing a punk-rock rendition of the Sesame Street theme song.
-When he worked at a bakery in the early nineties, he and his coworkers used to make jungle-animal noises to pass the time. Elliott had a pretty good monkey. If you weren't careful, the bread-slicers would shoot baguettes across the room. "Which of course we would do intentionally," his coworker told me. "I mean, it would launch like a missile."
-He was a caring big brother and was always worrying over and looking out for his siblings. On the reissued EitheOr, at the end of the live "Pictures of Me," there's a moment where you can hear him talking to Ashley from the stage, and the tenderness of that interaction captures a lot.
-He loved puns and bad jokes, truly the worst jokes. One of his favorites: A skeleton walks into a bar. The bartender says, "What'll you have?" The skeleton says, "A beer and a mop."
You can read an excerpt of the book here; it went up on the New Yorker's site earlier this year.
And the biography will be called Nobody Broke Your Heart.
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2023.10.15 12:38 Legitimate-Sky-7864 Ellmann's Joyce Biography ebook

Does anyone know if an ebook version of this is out there? I've hunted high and low for it with no luck. Everyone talks about it being the gold standard and so it kinda pisses me off that there doesn't seem to be one available. I'm looking for an epub version. Any help would be greatly appreciated!
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2023.09.27 16:06 linttim I found a comprehensive book list about the Opium Wars and how it affected Chinese History. Where should I start?

I was reading Imperial Twilight by Stephen R. Platt and I am looking for my next read about the Opium Wars in the bibliography. Was wondering what you thought about where I should go next. Have you read any of these books and enjoyed them? Anything to watch out for?
I'm thinking of starting with one of these:
The full list
Abel, Clarke. Narrative of a Journey in the Interior of China, and of a Voyage to and from That Country in the Years 1816 and 1817. London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1818. Ainger, Alfred, ed. The Letters of Charles Lamb. 2 vols. London: Macmillan, 1904. Anderson, Aeneas. A Narrative of the British Embassy to China, in the Years 1792, 1793, and 1794. London: J. Debrett, 1795. Anderson, Gertrude A., ed. The Letters of Thomas Manning to Charles Lamb. London: Martin Secker, 1925. Andrade, Tonio. The Gunpowder Age: China, Military Innovation, and the Rise of the West in World History. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2016. Anon. (“A Visitor to China”). Address to the People of Great Britain, Explanatory of Our Commercial Relations with the Empire of China. London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1836. Anon. (“A Looker-On”). Chinese Commerce and Disputes, from 1640 to 1840. Addressed to Tea Dealers and Consumers. London: W. Morrison, 1840. Anon. An Essay on Modern Luxuries. Salisbury, UK: J. Hodson, 1777. Anon. An Essay on the Nature, Use, and Abuse, of Tea, in a Letter to a Lady; with an Account of its Mechanical Operation. London: J. Bettenham, 1722. Anon., ed. Further Statement of the Ladrones on the Coast of China: Intended as a Continuation of the Accounts Published by Mr. Dalrymple. London: Lane, Darling, and Co., 1812. Anon. An Intercepted Letter from J––T––, Esq. Writer at Canton to His Friend in Dublin Ireland. Dublin: M. N. Mahon, 1804. Anson, George. A Voyage Round the World, in the Years 1740–1744. 2 vols. Edinburgh: Campbell Denovan, 1781. Antony, Robert J. Like Froth Floating on the Sea: The World of Pirates and Seafarers in Late Imperial South China. Berkeley: Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California, 2003. ———. “State, Continuity, and Pirate Suppression in Guangdong Province, 1809–1810.” Late Imperial China 27, no. 1 (June 2006): 1–30. ———, ed. “Piracy and the Shadow Economy in the South China Sea, 1780–1810.” In Elusive Pirates, Pervasive Smugglers: Violence and Clandestine Trade in the Greater China Seas. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2010. Auber, Peter. China. An Outline of Its Government, Laws, and Policy: and of the British and Foreign Embassies to, and Intercourse with That Empire. London: Parbury, Allen and Co., 1834. Baldwin, R. C. D. “Sir Joseph Banks and the Cultivation of Tea.” RSA Journal 141, no. 5444 (November 1993): 813–17. Ball, Kenneth, and W. P. Morrell, eds. Select Documents on British Colonial Policy, 1830–1860. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1928. Bao Shichen. Anwu si zhong (Four works by Anwu [Bao Shichen]). 36 juan. N.p., 1888. ———. Bao Shichen quan ji (The complete works of Bao Shichen). Edited by Li Xing. Hefei: Huangshan shushe, 1997. Bao Zunpeng et al., eds. Zhongguo jindaishi luncong (Essays on modern Chinese history). Taipei: Zhengzhong shuju, 1956–59. Barrow, John. Some Account of the Public Life and a Selection from the Unpublished Writings, of the Earl of Macartney. 2 vols. London: T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1807. Bartlett, Beatrice. Monarchs and Ministers: The Grand Council in Mid-Ch’ing China, 1723–1820. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. Baumler, Alan, ed. Modern China and Opium. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2001. Beaty, Frederick L., ed. The Lloyd-Manning Letters. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1957. Bello, David. Opium and the Limits of Empire: Drug Prohibition in the Chinese Interior, 1729–1850. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2005. Bickers, Robert. The Scramble for China: Foreign Devils in the Qing Empire, 1832–1914. London: Allen Lane, 2011. ———. “The Challenger: Hugh Hamilton Lindsay and the Rise of British Asia, 1832–1865.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, vol. 22 (December 2012): 141–69. Blake, Clagette. Charles Elliot R.N., 1801–1875: A Servant of Britain Overseas. London: Cleaver-Hume Press, 1960. Blake, Robert. Jardine Matheson: Traders of the Far East. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1999. Bourne, Kenneth. The Foreign Policy of Victorian England, 1830–1902. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970. Bowen, H. V. The Business of Empire: The East India Company and Imperial Britain, 1756–1833. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Bowers, Rick, ed. “Lieutenant Charles Cameron’s Opium War Diary.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Hong Kong Branch, vol. 52 (2012): 29–61. British Opium Trade with China (pamphlet containing reprints from the Leeds Mercury, 1839–40). Birmingham, UK: B. Hudson, n.d. Broomhall, Marshall. Robert Morrison: A Master Builder. 2nd impression. Edinburgh: Turnbull & Spears, 1927. Broughton, John Cam Hobhouse, Baron. Recollections of a Long Life, by Lord Broughton (John Cam Hobhouse). Edited by Lady Dorchester. 6 vols. London: John Murray, 1911. Brown, David. Palmerston: A Biography. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010. Bulley, Anne. The Bombay Country Ships, 1790–1833. Richmond, Surrey: Curzon Press, 2000. Bullock, Capt. T. H. The Chinese Vindicated, or Another View of the Opium Question. London: Wm. H. Allen and Co., 1840. Canton Press: Communications and Notes Relating to Chinese Customs, 1826–1840. N.p., 1826–40. Cary, Thomas Greaves. Memoir of Thomas Handasyd Perkins; containing Extracts from his Diaries and Letters. Boston: Little, Brown, 1856. Cassell, Pär. Grounds of Judgment: Extraterritoriality and Imperial Power in Nineteenth-Century China and Japan. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012. Chang Hsin-pao. Commissioner Lin and the Opium War. New York: Norton, 1964. 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Talfourd, Thomas Noon. The Letters of Charles Lamb, with a Sketch of His Life. 2 vols. London: Edward Moxon, 1837. ———. The Works of Charles Lamb. To which are prefixed, His Letters, and a Sketch of His Life. 2 vols. New York: Harper and Bros., 1838. ———. The Works of Charles Lamb, with A Sketch of His Life and Final Memorials. 2 vols. New York: Harper and Bros., 1875. Temple, Lt.-Col. Sir Richard Carnac, ed. The Travels of Peter Mundy in Europe and Asia, 1608–1667. 5 vols. London: Hakluyt Society, 1919. Townsend, William John. Robert Morrison: The Pioneer of Chinese Missions. London Missionary Society’s edition. London: S. W. Partridge & Co., 1888. Trocki, Carl. Opium, Empire and the Global Political Economy: A Study of the Asian Opium Trade, 1750–1950. New York: Routledge, 1999. Turner, John. A Narrative of the Captivity and Sufferings of John Turner…among the Ladrones or Pirates, on the Coast of China…in the year 1807. New York: G. & R. Waite, 1814. Victoria, Queen of Great Britain. The Letters of Queen Victoria. Edited by Arthur Christopher Benson and Viscount Esher. 3 vols. New York: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1907. von Glahn, Richard. “Cycles of Silver in Chinese Monetary History.” In The Economy of Lower Yangzi Delta in Late Imperial China, ed. Billy K. L. So. New York: Routledge, 2013. Wakeman, Frederic Jr. The Fall of Imperial China. New York: Free Press, 1975. Waley, Arthur. The Opium War Through Chinese Eyes. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1968. Waley-Cohen, Joanna. The Culture of War in China: Empire and the Military under the Qing Dynasty. London: I. B. Tauris, 2006. Waltham, Clae. Shu Ching: Book of History. Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1971. Warren, Samuel. The Opium Question. 3rd ed. London: James Ridgway, 1840. Webster, Anthony. The Twilight of the East India Company: The Evolution of Anglo-Asian Commerce and Politics, 1790–1860. Woodbridge, Suffolk, UK: Boydell Press, 2009. Webster, Daniel. The Papers of Daniel Webster; Diplomatic Papers, Volume 1: 1841–1843. Edited by Kenneth E. Shewmaker. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1983. Wei, Betty Peh-T’i. Ruan Yuan, 1764–1849: The Life and Work of a Major Scholar-Official in Nineteenth-Century China before the Opium War. Hong Hong: Hong Kong University Press, 2006. Williams, Samuel Wells. The Middle Kingdom. 2 vols. London: W. H. Allen, 1883. Williamson, Capt. A. R. Eastern Traders: Some Men and Ships of Jardine, Matheson & Company and their Contemporaries in the East India Company’s Maritime Service. S.l.: Jardine, Matheson & Co., 1975. Wills, John E. Mountain of Fame: Portraits in Chinese History. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994. Wood, William W. Sketches of China. Philadelphia: Carey & Lea, 1830. Wylie, Alexander. Memorials of the Protestant Missionaries to the Chinese. Shanghai: American Presbyterian Mission Press, 1867. Yuan Yonglun. Jing haifen ji (A record of the pacification of the pirates). 2 vols. Guangzhou: Shanyuan tang, 1830. Translated by Charles Friedrich Neumann as History of the Pirates Who Infested the China Sea from 1807 to 1810. London: Oriental Translation Fund, 1831. Zheng Yangwen. The Social Life of Opium in China. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Zhu Weizheng. Rereading Modern Chinese History. Translated by Michael Dillon. Boston: Brill, 2015.
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2023.09.25 13:00 RedditReadsBot James Joyce by Richard Ellmann [Biography](1959)

James Joyce by Richard Ellmann [Biography](1959) submitted by RedditReadsBot to RedditReads [link] [comments]


2023.09.12 18:59 HamilWhoTangled Neil Gaiman? What are you doing in my flaffel?

Neil Gaiman? What are you doing in my flaffel? submitted by HamilWhoTangled to DoctorWhumour [link] [comments]


2023.09.09 07:52 mmillington Nobodaddy's Children Group Read, Week 1: Introduction

Nobodaddy's Children Group Read, Week 1: Introduction
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Then old Nobodaddy aloft Farted and belched and coughed, And said, "I love hanging and drawing and quartering Every bit as well as war and slaughtering."
"Urizen," William Blake
Greetings to all you Arnologists and Zettel Collectors!
Welcome to the inaugural Arno_Schmidt Group Read. We're beginning with Arno's first three short novels, Scenes from the Life of a Faun (1953), Brand's Heath (1951), and Dark Mirrors (1951), collected as the trilogy Nobodaddy's Children. This is his most readily available work in English.
Before these three novels, Arno had only published Leviathan (1949), which included the stories "Gadir," "Enthymesis," and "Leviathan." These two trilogies share a looming sense of malevolence, the Leviathan or Nobodaddy, understandably so considering the texts' proximity to the war.
Beneath this demonic specter, these novels delve deeply into the often hidden or unnoticed richness of ordinary life. Friedrich Peter Ott, in his piece on Schmidt for the Dictionary of Literary Biography, notes that Schmidt had always maintained that it was the prose writer's job not to describe great catastrophes, but to make small events and details interesting" (288).
In Scenes from the Life of a Faun, we follow Heinrich Düring, a civil servant who leads a personal, internal rebellion against the Third Reich as he goes about his daily activities.
At the center of Brand's Heath is an ex-POW named Schmidt who lives in a post-war Germany plagued by scarcity and populated by "displaced" refugees. Schmidt, furthering his resemblance to our author, is working on a biography of Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué.
Dark Mirrors jumps forward to a post-nuclear holocaust landscape in which a lone survivor, in Robinson Crusoe fashion, builds himself a cabin, then he fills it with art/books from the ruins of libraries/museums and tends to his garden.
Ott describes the style of these novels as "collagelike fragments held together by associative logic," and "fragments of everyday life in pointillistic sketches" (283).
Arno, in his essay "Calculations I," calls this style the "Porous Present":
While reflecting in the evening on event of the day, "do you ever have the impression of an 'epic flow' of events? of a continuum, in any way? There is no epic flow, neither of the past nor of the present. Just test it against your own damaged diurnal mosaic!
"Instead, the events in our lives skip and jump. The string of insignificance, of omnipresent boredom, is strung with small beads of meaning, of internal and external experiences. What passes between midnight and midnight is not at all '1 day' but '1440 minutes' (and of those no more than 50 have any significance whatsoever!).
"This porous structure of our perception, even of the present, results in an equally porous existence...It is, then, the purpose of this...form to replace the once-popular fiction of 'continuous action' with a prose structure, lean but trim, which would conform more closely to the actual way in which we experience reality" (57-8).
The opening passage of Faun, as we'll see in the first week's reading, describes the photograph-like qualities of this realistic, diaristic experience of reality, but I don't want trample on next week's discussion too much.
Key to this all is what Ott identifies as fundamental to Arno's work: "Schmidt never describes what he wants the reader to feel; instead, he attempts to evoke the feeling itself" (285). For me, Brand's Heath serves as the emotive center of this trilogy.
I'll just make a few final notes on the style. The prose appears awkward at first glance: The first line of each "paragraph" is aligned left, with successive lines indented, and the first few words are italicized.
Hilde D. Cohn, in her very negative — and very brief — review of Faun, says this presentation "gives the little book a sinister similarity to a dictionary" (460).
Anthony Phelan, says "the 'sloganizing' of paragraph openings offer[s] a conformable representation of the perceptual process itself, the very moments of consciousness" (95).
The prose reflects the "snapshot," mosaic quality of memory in condensed form. The italicized words provide the initial image, the kernel that explodes into the full memory with the rest of the paragraph. The indentations draw attention to these kernels of memory.
The punctuation operates as a visual/pictorial presentation of movement, action, expressions, silence. Arno begrudgingly explains his punctuation methods in "Calculations III."
Note: I avoided, as much as possible, covering what Woods addresses in his introduction to the trilogy.
Further Note: It's important to remember that though Schmidt's style, in many ways, seems to carry the influence of James Joyce, Schmidt did not read Joyce until several years after publication of these novels.
Works Cited
Cohn, Hilde D. “Aus dem Leben eines Fauns” [Review]. Books Abroad: An International Literary Quarterly 28.4 (Autumn 1954), 460.
Ott, Friedrich Peter. "Arno Schmidt." Dictionary of Literary Biography, Vol. 69: Contemporary German Fiction Writers, First Series. Eds. Wolfgang D. Elfe and James Hardin. Detroit, Mich.: Bruccoli Clark Layman, 1988, 280-91.
Phelan, Anthony. “’Beständige Schoddrigkeiten’ Arno Schmidt and the Human Voice.” The Review of Contemporary Fiction: Arno Schmidt Number 8.1 (Spring 1988), 93-102.
Schmidt, Arno. "Calculations I-III." The Review of Contemporary Fiction 8.1: Arno Schmidt Number (Spring 1988), 53-75. Guest Ed. F.P. Ott.

What to expect each week

Reading begins today, and we'll discuss the selected reading each Saturday in a dedicated discussion post. Check out the schedule below for page numbers, discussion dates, and the discussion leaders.
Each post should include a brief synopsis of the reading, a section for analysis/random observations, and some discussion questions to generate conversation. Of course, all questions and comments are welcome from anyone reading along, even if it's just "What the eff did I just read?"
It would also help casual readers for each post to contain a link back to this post.
I've been gathering secondary sources for a few months now, so I'll be combing through them and posting what I find.

Reading Schedule

We still have two section of Brand's Heath open for discussion leaders. If you'd like to volunteer for a section, just comment below with which section you'd like to do.

Dates Section Pages Discussion Leader
9 Sept. 2023 Introduction - u/mmillington
Scenes from the Life of a Faun
16 Sept. 2023 I (February 1939) 1-34 u/thequirts
23 Sept. 2023 II (May/August '39) 35-68 u/mmillington
30 Sept. 2023 III (August/September 1944) 69-92 u/mmillington
Brand's Heath
7 Oct. 2023 Blakenhof, or The Survivors 93-131 u/mmillington
14 Oct. 2023 Lore, or The Playing Light 132-156 u/justkeepgoingdude
21 Oct. 2023 Krumau, or Will You See Me Once Again 157-175 u/Plantcore
Dark Mirrors
28 Oct. 2023 I 179-209 u/wastemailinglist
4 Nov. 2023 II 210-236 u/Plantcore

Questions

  1. What is your experience with Schmidt before this group read? Is this your first time reading him?
  2. What do you expect from Nobodaddy's Children?
  3. Any other questions, comments, suggestions?
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2023.09.06 09:40 mijki95 Szájensz Szerda [10. rész]

Szájensz Szerda [10. rész]

Üdvözlet a 10. Szájensz Szerdán!

"A tudás a lámpa, amely világít az ismeretlen sötétjében." - Carl Sagan

Bevezetés

Hihetetlen, de már a 10. Szájensz Szerdánál tartunk! És milyen alkalom lenne jobb arra, hogy egy olyan témát feszegetjünk, ami az egész univerzum alapját képezi: az atomokat. Ezek a parányi részecskék nem csak a mindennapi tárgyakban jelennek meg, hanem az energiát is szolgáltatják számunkra, amely világítja meg otthonainkat és meghajtja városainkat. De mi van az atomokon belül? Készüljetek fel egy izgalmas utazásra az atomok, a rejtélyes kvarkok világába és az atomenergia mélységeibe!

Heti idézet

"A tudomány nem csak egy tanulmány a természetről, hanem az emberi természetről is."
  • Isaac Asimov
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Az atomok történelmi felfedezése

Az atomok koncepciója nem új keletű; az ókori görög filozófusok, mint Démokritosz már több mint 2500 évvel ezelőtt elmélkedtek az anyag legkisebb, oszthatatlan részecskéiről, melyeket "atomosznak" neveztek, ami oszthatatlant jelent. Azonban az atomok valódi természetének megértése sokáig váratott magára.

John Dalton és az atomelmélet

John Dalton, a 19. század elején, az atomelmélet úttörőjeként vált ismertté. Megfigyelte, hogy a gázok bizonyos arányokban reagálnak egymással, és ezek az arányok nem változnak. Ezen felismerések alapján dolgozta ki atomelméletét, amely szerint minden elem atomokból áll, amelyek oszthatatlanok és megváltoztathatatlanok. Az azonos elemek atomjai azonosak, míg a különböző elemek atomjai eltérnek egymástól. Dalton munkája alapvetően határozta meg a modern kémia fejlődését és a periódusos rendszer kialakulását.
A 20. század az atomfizika fejlődésének kulcsfontosságú időszaka volt. Az évszázad során számos atommodellt dolgoztak ki, amelyek egyre pontosabban írták le az atomok belső szerkezetét és viselkedését:
Rutherford atommodellje: Az évszázad elején Ernest Rutherford és csapata aranyléces kísérletet végeztek, amelyben alfa-részecskéket lőttek vékony aranyfóliára. Azt várták, hogy az alfa-részecskék szinte minden esetben áthaladnak a fólián, de néhány részecske visszapattant. Ez arra utalt, hogy az atomoknak sűrű, pozitívan töltött központja van, az atommag.
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Ezen kísérlet alapján Rutherford kifejlesztette az atommodelljét, amelyben az atomok nagy része üres tér, míg a közepén található az atommag, amely körül elektronok keringenek.
Bohr atommodellje: Niels Bohr továbbfejlesztette Rutherford modelljét azzal, hogy az elektronok meghatározott energiaszinteken, vagy pályákon keringenek az atommag körül. Bár ez a modell nem volt tökéletes, segített megérteni az atomok és molekulák kémiai kölcsönhatásait.
A kvantummechanika és az atomok: A 20. század közepére a kvantummechanika új nézőpontot hozott az atomok világába. werner Heisenberg bizonytalansági elve és E[rwin Schrödinger(https://www.britannica.com/biography/Erwin-Schrodinger)]]) hullámfüggvénye lehetővé tette az atomok és részecskék viselkedésének pontosabb leírását. Ezen elméletek alapján az elektronok nem konkrét pályákon keringenek, hanem valószínűségi felhőként jelennek meg az atommag körül.

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A kvarkok felfedezése: A század második felében a részecskefizika újabb részecskéket fedezett fel az atomon belül. A protonok és neutronok, amelyek az atommagot alkotják, nem alapvető részecskék, hanem kvarkokból állnak. A kvarkok felfedezése újabb mélységeket nyitott meg az anyag természetének megértésében. A kvarkokat először Murray Gell-Mann és George Zweig javasolta függetlenül egymástól 1964-ben. A kvarkok nevét Gell-Mann választotta, egy James Joyce műből kölcsönözve. A kvarkok felfedezése forradalmasította a részecskefizikát és új megértést hozott az anyag legmélyebb szerkezetéről. Jelenleg hat különböző típusú kvarkot ismerünk: az "up" (felfelé), "down" (lefelé), "charm" (báj), "strange" (furcsa), "top" (teteje) és "bottom" (alja) kvarkokat. Ezek a kvarkok különböző kombinációkban alkotják a hadronokat, amelyek közé tartoznak a protonok és neutronok is. Például egy proton három kvarkból áll: két "up" kvarkból és egy "down" kvarkból. A kvarkok soha nem léteznek szabadon a természetben; mindig más kvarkokkal vannak kötve. Ezt a jelenséget "szabadság hiányának" nevezik, és az erős kölcsönhatásnak köszönhető, amely a kvarkok között hat. A kvarkok felfedezése és tanulmányozása nem csak az anyag mélyebb megértését hozta el, hanem számos új technológiai alkalmazást is lehetővé tett, beleértve a nagy energiájú részecskegyorsítók fejlesztését.
Ezen felfedezések és elméletek együttesen hozzájárultak ahhoz, hogy mélyebb megértést nyerjünk az atomok és az anyag természetéről. A 20. század atomfizikai kutatásai nem csak az atomok világát tárták fel előttünk, hanem az univerzum alapvető működésének megértéséhez is hozzájárultak.

Az atomenergia története

A nukleáris hasadás felfedezése

1938-ban Otto Hahn és Fritz Strassmann német tudósok felfedezték az urán atommagjának neutronnal történő bombázásakor bekövetkező hasadását. Ezt a felfedezést Lise Meitner és Otto Frisch értelmezte, és rájöttek, hogy a hasadás során hatalmas mennyiségű energiát szabadítanak fel.

A Manhattan Projekt

A nukleáris hasadás felfedezése után nem sokkal a világ nagyhatalmai felismerték az atomenergia katonai alkalmazásának lehetőségét. Az Egyesült Államokban a Manhattan Projekt keretében kezdték meg az első atombomba fejlesztését. 1945-ben, a második világháború végén, az Egyesült Államok két atombombát dobott Japánra, Hiroshimára és Nagaszakira, ami a háború gyors befejezéséhez vezetett.

Az atomenergia békés célú alkalmazása

A második világháború után a tudományos közösség és a kormányok egyaránt felismerték az atomenergia békés célú alkalmazásának potenciális előnyeit. A háborús időszakban megszerzett tudás és technológia lehetővé tette az atomenergia kereskedelmi célú hasznosítását, különösen az elektromos áram előállításában.
1951-ben az Egyesült Államokban az Experimental Breeder Reactor I (EBR-I) jelentette az első lépést ezen az úton. Ez az erőmű volt az első, amely elektromos áramot állított elő atomenergiából, és ezzel bizonyította, hogy az atomenergia gyakorlati és gazdaságos lehet a békés célú alkalmazásokban.
1956-ban az Egyesült Királyságban a Calder Hall megnyitása egy újabb mérföldkő volt az atomenergia történetében. Ez volt a világ első kereskedelmi nukleáris erőműve, amely a lakosság számára állított elő áramot. A Calder Hall sikerén felbuzdulva számos ország kezdett el nukleáris erőműveket építeni. Az 1950-es években az első kereskedelmi nukleáris erőművek megjelenése után a 60-as és 70-es években robbanásszerű növekedést tapasztaltunk. Ezt a növekedést az olajválságok, az energiaigény növekedése és a nukleáris technológia fejlődése is ösztönözte. Az 1980-as években azonban a nukleáris balesetek, mint a Three Mile Island és Csernobil, valamint a költségek növekedése miatt csökkent az új erőművek építésének üteme.

A nukleáris biztonság és a környezetvédelem

Az atomenergia fejlődése nem ment problémák nélkül. Az 1970-es és 1980-as években több súlyos nukleáris baleset rázta meg a világot, amelyek komoly aggodalmakat vetettek fel a nukleáris biztonsággal és a környezetvédelemmel kapcsolatban.
Three Mile Island: Az Egyesült Államokban, Pennsylvaniában, a Three Mile Island-i atomerőmű 2. blokkjában 1979-ben történt baleset. Ebben az erőműben egy nyomottvizes reaktor (PWR) működött. A baleset során részleges magolvadás következett be, de a reaktor biztonsági rendszerei megakadályozták a radioaktív anyagok jelentős kiszabadulását a környezetbe.
Csernobil: Az 1986-ban Ukrajnában, a Csernobil-i atomerőmű 4. blokkjában bekövetkezett katasztrófa során egy RBMK (Rosszijszkij Bolsoj Mosnosztyi Kanalnyj) típusú reaktor volt érintett. Az RBMK egy nagy teljesítményű csatornás reaktor, amely grafit moderátort és víz hűtőközeget használ. A Csernobil-i baleset során robbanások és tűz következett be, amelyek jelentős mennyiségű radioaktív anyagot bocsátottak ki a környezetbe.
Ezen balesetek következtében a nemzetközi közösség szigorúbb biztonsági előírásokat vezetett be, és sok ország újraértékelte atomenergia-stratégiáját. A nukleáris biztonság és a környezetvédelem kérdése azóta is központi téma az atomenergia fejlesztésében és alkalmazásában.

Az atomerőművek szerepe a villamos hálózatokban

Az atomerőművek általában az úgynevezett "alaperőművek" kategóriájába tartoznak. Ez azt jelenti, hogy folyamatosan, stabil teljesítménnyel működnek, és az áramellátás alapját képezik. Az alaperőművek olyan erőművek, amelyek a nap 24 órájában, az év nagy részében működnek, és stabilan szállítják az áramot a hálózatba. Az atomerőművek kiválóan alkalmasak erre a szerepre, mivel képesek hosszú időn keresztül, megszakítás nélkül működni.

1. Nyomottvizes reaktor (PWR)

https://preview.redd.it/zwkoim6p8lmb1.png?width=4961&format=png&auto=webp&s=390782729177b8cb006735e6b250466ae944fb77
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Példa: Paluel Atomerőmű, Franciaország és Paks, Magyarország
A Paluel Atomerőmű Franciaországban található és négy PWR reaktorral rendelkezik. A nyomottvizes reaktorok (PWR) a világon a legelterjedtebbek. Ezekben a reaktorokban a víz magas nyomás alatt áll, ami megakadályozza, hogy forrjon, miközben hőt vesz fel a reaktorból. A hőt egy hőcserélőn keresztül vezetik, ahol a másodlagos vízkör gőzzé válik és meghajtja a turbinákat. De ilyen van otthon nálunk is Pakson, A Paksi Atomerőműben 4 darab VVER-440/213 is ilyen.
Jellemzők:
  • A legelterjedtebb reaktortípus a világon.
  • A hűtőközeg és moderátor: víz, amely nyomás alatt áll, így nem válik gőzzé a reaktorban.
  • Két vízkörrel rendelkezik: az elsődleges kör a reaktorban, a másodlagos pedig a turbináknál.
Előnyök:
  • Megbízható és jól ismert technológia.
  • Képes hosszú időn keresztül stabilan működni.
  • A kettős vízkör miatt a radioaktív anyagok nem érintkeznek közvetlenül a turbinákkal.
Hátrányok:
  • Nagy nyomás alatt működik, ami megnöveli a reaktor tartályának költségeit.
  • A magas nyomás miatt a biztonsági rendszereknek is nagyobb terhelést kell elviselniük.

2. Forralóvizes reaktor (BWR)

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A forralóvizes reaktorokban (BWR) a víz közvetlenül a reaktorban forr, és a keletkező gőz meghajtja a turbinákat. Nincs szükség külön hőcserélőre vagy másodlagos vízkörre, mivel a gőz közvetlenül a reaktorból származik. A Fukushima Daiichi Atomerőmű Japánban található és BWR reaktorokkal működött. Sajnálatosan ez az erőmű vált ismertté a 2011-es földrengés és cunami miatt bekövetkezett nukleáris baleset miatt.
Jellemzők:
  • A hűtővíz közvetlenül a reaktorban forr és válik gőzzé.
  • Egy vízkörrel rendelkezik.
Előnyök:
  • Egyszerűbb kialakítás a PWR-hez képest, mivel nincs szükség hőcserélőre és másodlagos vízkörre.
  • Alacsonyabb nyomáson működik, mint a PWR.
Hátrányok:
  • A gőz radioaktív lehet, mivel közvetlenül érintkezik a reaktorral.
  • A reaktor tartályának nagyobbnak kell lennie, hogy kezelni tudja a gőz képződését.

3. Gázhűtéses reaktor (GCR)


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Magnox Példa: Magnox erőművek, Egyesült Királyság
A gázhűtéses reaktorokban szén-dioxidot használnak hűtőközegként, és grafitot használnak moderátorként. Ezek a reaktorok képesek működni természetes uránnal, és az Egyesült Királyságban voltak a legelterjedtebbek az 1960-as és 1980-as években. A Magnox egy sor első generációs nukleáris erőmű volt az Egyesült Királyságban, amelyek gázhűtéses reaktorokkal működtek. Ezek az erőművek a 1950-es és 1980-as években épültek, és azóta többségük már leállt.
Jellemzők:
  • Szén-dioxidot használnak hűtőközegként.
  • Grafit a moderátor.
Előnyök:
  • A grafit nagy hőkapacitása miatt a reaktor hűtése stabilabb.
  • A szén-dioxid nem reaktív, így kevesebb korróziós problémát okoz.
Hátrányok:
  • Nagyobb méretű, mint a vízhűtéses reaktorok.
  • A grafit tűzveszélyes lehet magas hőmérsékleten.

4. Sós olvadék reaktor

A sós olvadék reaktorokban az üzemanyag és a hűtőközeg együtt olvasztott só formájában van. Ezek a reaktorok képesek magas hőmérsékleteken működni, és potenciálisan képesek "égetni" a radioaktív hulladékot.
Jellemzők:
  • A tüzelőanyag és a hűtőközeg együtt olvasztott só formájában van.
Előnyök:
  • Magas hőmérsékleten működik, ami növeli a hatékonyságot.
  • Képes "égetni" a radioaktív hulladékot.
Hátrányok:
  • Új és kevésbé ismert technológia.
  • A magas hőmérséklet korróziós problémákat okozhat.

5. Gyorsneutronos reaktor


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Példa: BN-600, Belojarszk Atomerőmű, Oroszország
A BN-600 a Belojarszk Atomerőműben található Oroszországban, és jelenleg a világ egyik legnagyobb működő gyorsneutronos reaktora. Oroszország az élen jár ezen technológia fejlesztésében és alkalmazásában. A gyorsneutronos reaktorokban nincs moderátor, így a neutronok magas energiájúak maradnak. Ezek a reaktorok képesek újrahasznosítani a kiégett üzemanyagot és "égetni" a radioaktív hulladékot.
Jellemzők:
  • Nincs moderátor, a neutronok magas energiájúak.
Előnyök:
  • Képes "égetni" a radioaktív hulladékot és újrahasznosítani a kiégett üzemanyagot.
  • Nagyobb hatékonyságú, mint a hagyományos reaktorok.
Hátrányok:
  • Bonyolultabb technológia és drágább üzemeltetés.
  • A magas neutronfluxus miatt a reaktor anyagai gyorsabban öregednek.

6. Nehézvizes reaktor (PHWR)


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Példa: CANDU reaktorok, melyeket Kanadában és más országokban is használnak.
A nehézvizes reaktorokban a nehézvíz (deuterium-oxid) szolgál mind hűtőközegként, mind moderátorként. A nehézvíz jobb neutronmoderátor, mint a normál víz, ezért lehetővé teszi a természetes urán használatát üzemanyagként, anélkül, hogy gazdagításra lenne szükség.
Jellemzők:
  • Nehézvíz (D2O) használata hűtőközegként és moderátorként.
  • Lehetővé teszi a természetes urán használatát üzemanyagként.
Előnyök:
  • Nincs szükség urángazdagításra, ami költséghatékony.
  • Nagyobb rugalmasság az üzemanyag-ciklusban.
Hátrányok:
  • A nehézvíz előállítása drága.
  • Nagyobb méretű, mint más reaktortípusok.

7. Magas hőmérsékletű gázhűtéses reaktor (HTGR)


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Példa: Pebble Bed Modular Reactor (PBMR), Dél-Afrika.
Ez a reaktortípus héliumot használ hűtőközegként, és képes magasabb hőmérsékleteken működni, mint más reaktortípusok. A magas hőmérséklet lehetővé teszi a nagyobb hatékonyságú áramtermelést és más ipari alkalmazásokat, például a hidrogén előállítását.
Jellemzők:
  • Hélium használata hűtőközegként.
  • Grafit bevonatú üzemanyag-részecskék.
Előnyök:
  • Nagy hatékonyság az áramtermelésben.
  • Alacsonyabb kockázatú radioaktív szivárgás esetén.
Hátrányok:
  • Új és kevésbé ismert technológia.
  • A magas hőmérséklet korróziós problémákat okozhat.

Személyes zárógondolataim

Az atomenergia jövője egy rendkívül fontos téma, amely sok vitát vált ki világszerte. Ahogy a globális energiaigény növekszik és az éghajlatváltozás elleni küzdelem egyre sürgősebbé válik, az atomenergia egy olyan eszköz lehet a kezünkben, amely segíthet ezen kihívások leküzdésében. Személyes véleményem szerint az atomenergia nem csak egy átmeneti megoldás, hanem egy hosszú távú stratégiai eszköz, amely képes biztosítani a stabil és környezetbarát energiát a jövő generációi számára.
Sokan félnek az atomenergiától, részben a múltbeli tragikus események, mint a Csernobil vagy a Fukushima miatt. Azonban fontos megérteni, hogy a technológia azóta jelentősen fejlődött, és a modern reaktorok sokkal biztonságosabbak, mint azok, amelyek ezekben a balesetekben érintettek voltak. A tudomány és a technológia fejlődésével az atomenergia biztonságosabbá és hatékonyabbá válik.
A megújuló energiaforrások, mint a nap- és szélenergia, létfontosságúak a jövőnk szempontjából, de az atomenergia is kulcsszerepet játszhat az energiaellátás diverzifikálásában és a szén-dioxid-kibocsátás csökkentésében. Az atomenergia képes hosszú időn keresztül stabilan működni, ami kiegészíti a megújuló energiaforrások változékonyságát.
Összefoglalva, úgy gondolom, hogy az atomenergia nem csak a múlt és a jelen része, hanem a jövőnk is. Ahhoz, hogy fenntartható és zöld jövőt építsünk, szükségünk van minden rendelkezésre álló eszközre, beleértve az atomenergiát is. A kihívás az, hogy hogyan integráljuk ezt az eszközt a globális energiastratégiánkba úgy, hogy közben maximalizáljuk előnyeit és minimalizáljuk kockázatait.

Szí jú létör aligétör

Most hogy atomjaira szedtük a témát, remélem élveztétek és hasznosnak találtátok. Köszönöm, hogy velem tartottatok ezen az izgalmas úton! Vár még ránk sok kaland és felfedezés. Maradjatok éberek és találkozunk a következő Szájensz Szerdán!

Hasznos linkek

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2023.08.31 06:03 Nwabudike_J_Morgan August 27, 2023 - The Falcon and the Snowman (1985)

The Falcon and the Snowman

Directed by: John Schlesinger

Starring: Timothy Hutton, Sean Penn, Pat Hingle, Joyce Van Patten, Art Camacho, Richard Dysart

The true story of a disillusioned military contractor employee and his drug pusher childhood friend who became walk-in spies for the Soviet Union.

Info:

  • Rated: R
  • Running Time: 131 Minutes
  • Genre: Biography Crime Drama
  • Release Date: February 8, 1985
  • Country(s): USA
  • Language(s): English
  • IMDb user rating: 6.8/10
  • Rotten Tomatoes Critic: 83%
  • Rotten Tomatoes Audience: 69%
  • Metacritic Critic: 68/100
  • Metacritic Audience: 8.3/10

Awards: 1 nomination

Links:

Streaming Options:

Select free options listed above, view the full list of streaming and purchase options on JustWatch
Discussion topic(s):
  • John Schlesinger film #3
PLEASE DON'T RUIN ANY MOVIE FOR ANYONE WHO HASN'T SEEN IT!
Please tag any spoilers with the code:
>!The real treasure was the friends we made along the way.!< 
Which will read as: The real treasure was the friends we made along the way.
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2023.07.01 17:23 Reddit_Books New Releases for July 2023

New Releases for July 2023

Data courtesy http://www.bookreporter.com
The genre info is from the users on goodreads.com
For more discussion, see the monthly New Releases post.
Title Author ReleaseDate
Autobiography
Home/Land Rebecca Mead July 11, 2023
Baseball
The Tao of the Backup Catcher Tim Brown July 11, 2023
Biography
Owner of a Lonely Heart Beth Nguyen July 4, 2023
Diana, William, and Harry James Patterson July 11, 2023
Jackie J. Randy Taraborrelli July 18, 2023
Crime
Evidence of Things Seen Sarah Weinman July 4, 2023
All Is Not Forgiven Joe Kenda July 25, 2023
Fantasy
The Carnivale of Curiosities Amiee Gibbs July 11, 2023
The Saint of Bright Doors Vajra Chandrasekera July 11, 2023
The Jasad Heir Sara Hashem July 18, 2023
The Sun and the Void Gabriela Romero-Lacruz July 25, 2023
Fiction
Lowdown Road Scott Von Doviak July 11, 2023
After the Funeral and Other Stories Tessa Hadley July 11, 2023
All the Demons Are Here Jake Tapper July 11, 2023
Inside the Wolf Amy Rowland July 11, 2023
All-Night Pharmacy Ruth Madievsky July 11, 2023
Emergency Kathleen Alcott July 18, 2023
Onlookers Ann Beattie July 18, 2023
The Bourne Defiance Brian Freeman July 25, 2023
Film
Bogie & Bacall william J Mann July 11, 2023
Historical Fiction
The Life She Wanted Anita Abriel July 1, 2023
The Exhibitionist Charlotte Mendelson July 4, 2023
The Sunset Crowd Karin Tanabe July 4, 2023
Trinity Zelda Lockhart July 4, 2023
The Housekeepers Alex Hay July 4, 2023
Do Tell Lindsay Lynch July 11, 2023
Half-Life of a Stolen Sister Rachel Cantor July 11, 2023
The Air Raid Book Club Annie Lyons July 11, 2023
The Ghost Ship Kate Mosse July 11, 2023
The Paris Agent Kelly Rimmer July 11, 2023
Flags on the Bayou James Lee Burke July 11, 2023
Queen of Exiles Vanessa Riley July 11, 2023
Sinners of Starlight City Anika Scott July 18, 2023
Women of the Post Joshunda Sanders July 18, 2023
Counting Lost Stars Kim van Alkemade July 18, 2023
Queen Wallis C.J. Carey July 18, 2023
The Madwomen of Paris Jennifer Cody Epstein July 18, 2023
Crook Manifesto Colson Whitehead July 18, 2023
The Little Village of Book Lovers Nina George July 25, 2023
The Bookbinder Pip Williams August 1, 2023
Horror
A Good House for Children Kate Collins July 4, 2023
The Beast You Are Paul Tremblay July 11, 2023
The Militia House John Milas July 11, 2023
Silver Nitrate Silvia Moreno-Garcia July 18, 2023
Literature
Somebody's Fool Richard Russo July 25, 2023
Mystery
Flop Dead Gorgeous David Rosenfelt July 4, 2023
Her, Too Bonnie Kistler July 4, 2023
The Long Ago Michael McGarrity July 4, 2023
Kala Colin Walsh July 6, 2023
Obsessed James Patterson July 10, 2023
A Likeable Woman May Cobb July 11, 2023
An Evil Heart Linda Castillo July 11, 2023
The Mistress of Bhatia House Sujata Massey July 11, 2023
The Murder Wheel Tom Mead July 11, 2023
The St. Ambrose School for Girls Jessica Ward July 11, 2023
Thicker Than Water Megan Collins July 11, 2023
The Poison Machine Robert J. Lloyd July 11, 2023
The Clearing Simon Toyne July 11, 2023
The Bones of the Story Carol Goodman July 11, 2023
Strange Sally Diamond Liz Nugent July 18, 2023
The Stolen Coast Dwyer Murphy July 18, 2023
Fatal Legacy Lindsey Davis July 18, 2023
The Lady from Burma Allison Montclair July 25, 2023
The Shadow Girls Alice Blanchard July 25, 2023
Mrs. Plansky's Revenge Spencer Quinn July 25, 2023
Pink Lemonade Cake Murder Joanne Fluke July 25, 2023
Night Candy Max Tomlinson July 25, 2023
Should I Fall Scott Shepherd August 8, 2023
Romance
The Better Half Alli Frank July 1, 2023
One Summer in Savannah Terah Shelton Harris July 4, 2023
Sunshine Nails Mai Nguyen July 4, 2023
A Lady's Guide to Scandal Sophie Irwin July 6, 2023
Hello Stranger Katherine Center July 11, 2023
The Summer of Songbirds Kristy Woodson Harvey July 11, 2023
The Summer Skies Jenny Colgan July 11, 2023
Forever Hold Your Peace Liz Fenton July 11, 2023
Must Love Flowers Debbie Macomber July 11, 2023
The Absolutes Molly Dektar July 11, 2023
The Hollywood Jinx Sariah Wilson July 25, 2023
Science Fiction
Ripe Sarah Rose Etter July 11, 2023
Short Stories
Elsewhere Yan Ge July 11, 2023
Zero-Sum Joyce Carol Oates July 18, 2023
I Meant It Once Kate Doyle July 18, 2023
Thriller
Goodbye Earl Leesa Cross-Smith July 3, 2023
Windfall Wendy Corsi Staub July 11, 2023
Wednesdays at One Sandra A. Miller July 11, 2023
Dead Fall Brad Thor July 11, 2023
A Twisted Love Story Samantha Downing July 18, 2023
After Death Dean Koontz July 18, 2023
The Block Party Jamie Day July 18, 2023
The Collector Daniel Silva July 18, 2023
The Viper John Verdon July 18, 2023
The Wonder State Sara Flannery Murphy July 18, 2023
Cutting Teeth Chandler Baker July 18, 2023
How Can I Help You Laura Sims July 18, 2023
The Killer's Wife Susan Furlong July 18, 2023
Everyone Here Is Lying Shari Lapena July 20, 2023
An Honest Man Michael Koryta July 25, 2023
Prom Mom Laura Lippman July 25, 2023
I Did It for You Amy Engel July 25, 2023
Unknown
Time Will Break the World Aaron Jacobs July 1, 2023
Circle of Death James Patterson July 3, 2023
Clive Cussler The Sea Wolves Jack Du Brul July 11, 2023
Eventide, Water City Chris McKinney July 11, 2023
The Catch Alison Fairbrother July 11, 2023
Never Back Down Christopher Swann July 18, 2023
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2023.07.01 10:33 ljames2k The Evening Redness in the West: McCarthy’s interview with Der Spiegel

Translated by Ian Alexander Moore. Source: https://www.academia.edu/21895511/Cormac_McCarthys_1992_Interview_with_Der_Spiegel
Mattusek’s article on McCarthy originally appeared in the German magazine Der Spiegel under the title, “Die Abendrote des Westens: SPIEGEL-Reporter Matthias Matussek uber den US-Schriftsteller Cormac McCarthy,” Der Spiegel 36 (1992): 190-191, 195, 198 (see http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d- 9284806.html). Matussek, who was working in the United States at the time, must have conducted his interviews with McCarthy in English, and then translated them into German for publication. Because I do not have access to original transcripts or recordings, I have accordingly had to retranslate the quotes back into English. Under such circumstances, losses in translation are inevitable.
Along with pictures of McCarthy, Joyce, Faulkner, John Wesley Hardin, a New York subway car, and a cemetery in El Paso, the article contains the following biographical caption: “Cormac McCarthy numbers among the outsiders in the American literary scene. Recently, however, his book All the Pretty Horses made its way to the U.S. bestseller lists—a success that daunts more than delights its reserved author, who lives in El Paso, Texas. His magnum opus, the novel Suttree, is now available in German. McCarthy, 59, is considered to be a witness of decadence—a moralist who describes those dropouts who have said goodbye to the American dream.” All footnotes and bracketed interpolations are my own.
---
“At some point everybody’s got to learn to put up with himself,” says the voice. “Don’t you think?” A soft voice. One that loves pauses. A damned confident, God-the-Father type of voice, heavy like bedrock in the static of the line, and just as solitary.
He lives alone, in a small, white stone house in El Paso, on the Mexican border. It’s noon his time. Outside, the sun scorches the cracked earth. Around 40 degrees [Celsius], he figures. The air conditioner doesn’t help much. Now and then he interrupts our conversation to pour water over his head and arms. The bedroom is dark, and books pile up next to the bed, many of them open. Right now he’s reading Ray Monk’s biography of Wittgenstein.
There will only be telephone conversations, for days only his voice—that is the agreement. And it makes sense: Cormac McCarthy is anyhow no more than a ghost in the literary scene. An insider’s tip. An author for the initiated. A hushed name that is mostly mentioned alongside two others: Joyce and Faulkner. Most of his novels are dedicated to the foundations and academies whose grants have made it possible for him to write them—though they haven’t sold much so far.
The photo shows a man near 60. High forehead. Big, alert eyes. Cormac McCarthy is a voice a few thousand kilometers away that says: “I’ve been lucky in life— I’ve never written a single line to earn money.” If he’d wanted to sell books, he’d have become a book dealer and not an author. He calls public appearances “whoring,” and he typically declines interview offers.
“For Wittgenstein, writing was a machine to become respectable.” He chuckles, as if at a punch line that only he understands. “You do what you’re good at.” This voice knows no self-doubt. But it knows the price one must pay if one is not prepared to sell oneself.
He bought his own novel Suttree, which, 13 years after it was first published in America, now appears in German under the title Verlorene [The Lost]. A book like a monolith in the American literary landscape, black, hefty, mysterious. Cornelius Suttree, a college dropout who lives on a houseboat in Tennessee and lives off the river, that fetid sewer on which fish and garbage and the corpses of children float by, is a mythic hero with modern consciousness, burdened by history, cunning, independent, a Stephen Dedalus in the phantasmagoria of the West.
Like Ulysses, Suttree also plays with references to ancient mythology—Styx is the river that separates the “world of the righteous” from the realm of “cruder life forms” and the living from the dead, and Suttree is a shadow among shadows that end up in caves and vats and under bridges.
There isn’t much known about Cormac McCarthy, and the little that is known turns up again in Suttree in an enigmatic way. Like Suttree, Cormac McCarthy lived under bridges and woke up in jail cells in the fifties. His father was an affluent lawyer. Big mansion, servants, Catholic, classical education. Cormac loved books, but even more the wildness without, life on the edge.
The voice on the telephone tells of that time reluctantly, at first, then cautiously, as though it didn’t want to open any wounds. “Many of the people talked about in Suttree are still alive.” His father, for example.
Cormac, the son of a lawyer, is as little interested in the career standards of his father as is Suttree, the son of a preacher. He signs up for the Air Force, spends four years in Alaska, where he predominantly reads, he returns, he begins to write and does nothing other than that for the rest of his life.
He tramps through the Southwest, he learns everything about rattlesnakes and horses, he avoids the big cities. He lives in motel rooms, he marries twice, his wives leave him, and he writes, he reads and keeps his library, around 7000 volumes, in storage containers. “Books are made out of books,” says the voice, thereby ending all further requests for biographical details. “If writing had anything to do with life, everyone would be an author.”
He sends his first novel, The Orchard Keeper, to Random House. There the manuscript makes its way into the hands of Albert Erskine, the legendary editor of Faulkner, and Erskine sees right away that here one of the greatest talents of American literature is writing—and that his books won’t sell. McCarthy’s next novels, Outer Dark and Child of God, prove him right. They are dark, powerfully eloquent parables about the blind children of the wilderness, which have been praised by a few critics—and still lack readership.
For 20 years McCarthy works on Suttree, his magnum opus: a baroque night work about life and its truculent proliferation, about the blind and the crippled and the false preachers who hold baptisms in gutters, about hard-shelled scrabbling in a destroyed, second trash-nature in the hinterlands of the city, and among them Suttree, a drunkard and at the same time the most tender soul under the sun.
The novel, congenially translated [into German] by Hans Wolf, begins with an intimate address, and it is a voice that comes to us from the realm of the dead: “Dear friend now in the dusty clockless hours of the town when the streets lie black and steaming in the wake of the watertrucks . . . no soul shall walk save you.” And there follows a 650-page, stark, drunk, scintillating song on destruction and life and a swan song on the wilderness of the Wild West.
Suttree fishes, Suttree drinks, he makes friends with an Indian who catches turtles, he loves, he lives with a prostitute, he speaks with a ragpicker about God, and he tears up, unread, the letters he seldom gets from his family. While in the joint, Suttree meets Harrogate, who could also be called Huckleberry Finn and who was arrested for humping melons in a field at night. “He’s damn near screwed the whole patch,” the aggrieved farmer says in amazement. “Well,” his neighbor says, “I guess he takes himself for a lover. Sort of like a sailor in a whorehouse.”
Later, Suttree saves his friend’s life—Harrogate had laid dynamite in the passageways of the caves under the city in order to discover their riches, and of course he only struck the sewer and was carried away by the waste. Suttree is a melancholic and amply comic novel.
Faulkner describes the crumbling order of the South. McCarthy describes a new jungle beyond all order, a place of trash and poisonous wild plants at the end of civilization. Only occasionally do club-wielding policemen appear on their horizon, senseless killers in a world that is populated by fanatical preachers and the insane, and by the dead who consort with the living:
"He wheezed my name, his grip belied the frailty of him. His caved and wasted face. The dead would take the living with them if they could, I pulled away. Sat in an ivy garden that lizards kept with constant leathery slitherings."
Stars twinkle even above Suttree’s filthy cave-world, and an insatiable and irresistible drive for redemption animates its scattered inhabitants: the black man Jones, the ragpicker, the goatman preacher, the prostitute Joyce. And since books are made out of books, we encounter on Suttree’s journey the archetypes of world literature— Macbeth’s witches and Odysseus’ Sirens, a bum named “Ulysses,” the chimera of the classic Walpurgis Night and Buchner’s “Lenz.”
For, like Lenz, Suttree one day leaves for the woods, and he loses his mind like Lenz, about whom Buchner wrote: “He felt no fatigue, but at times he was irritated he could not walk on his head.”
“Buchner?” asks the voice on the telephone, suddenly wide-awake. “Does he write well?” And then he hears another outsider story, one of the greatest loner stories of German literature, and in his sporadic questions there is an intuitive solidarity with a nonconformist from another time, from another world.
In our times, says the voice in conclusion, as calmly as a doctor who realizes that his patient is about to die, what we are dealing with is not the decline of culture, but with how to balance ultimate losses. Poetry, painting, music, they are irretrievably lost, they have petered out and are betrayed to the mediocrity or paralysis of modernity. “We are like primitive tribes that have been driven from their culture and have lost their orientation, their identity, their capacity to live.”
Someone like Cormac McCarthy does not take part in the fashionable literary discussions of the arts sections and even less in the political ones of the headlines. He thinks politics is a gossipy system of placation that is not in a position to address the essential questions of humanity in general.
A few days later, however, the voice on the telephone speaks passionately about the Serbian concentration camps and about the obligation to intervene. The voice does so with a surprisingly bloody metaphor. There is the moral responsibility, it says, “to cut off the hand that puts itself on your brother’s throat.”
It is an archaic image, and Cormac McCarthy’s novels after Suttree show precisely that: an archaic world in which the lost and uprooted wander the battlefields of life like the tragic heroes of antiquity, who strive in vain to escape their fate. Blood is spilled, and blood becomes the heathen ritual of purification.
To do research for his novel Blood Meridian, McCarthy moved to El Paso, on the Mexican border, about 20 years ago. Here, in the Southwest of the United States, “civilized” for barely a hundred years now, in whose cracks the old, new wilderness proliferates, McCarthy found the ideal landscape for his descriptions of the blind and heroic, the conscience-heavy and reflectionless beast called Man.
He depicts the history of a boy without origin, who joins in on the grotesque forays of depraved killers and scalphunters during the wars of extermination against the Indians in the middle of the previous [i.e., the nineteenth] century. A book like the most gruesome etchings from the Thirty Years’ War. A delirious landscape of ghosts with trees full of dead children, fields of corpses, whitening skeletons. It is an allegorical masquerade that brings death and rides against death.
There is the “kid,” there is the ex-priest, there is the fool. And there is above all the judge, a baldheaded devil who preaches redemption through the spilling of blood, a frightening Last Judgement, allied with both God and barbarism, the ideal and the terror.
How does that fit together? And how does this voice fit in, which speaks effortlessly of Hegel and astrophysics, of Dostoyevsky and the poets of antiquity, which speaks patiently, calmly, and urbanely of the horrors splayed across these pages, of the monsters and the terrors and the word-poor pistoleros of the Wild West?
*
The cemetery in El Paso stretches endlessly along the highway-maze of the Mexican border. Like pale spiders’ legs the cement belts pass by high above, over the Rio Grande and into the still poorer south, into the dive bars and bordellos and shacks of Ciudad Juarez.
The cemetery of El Paso is a cracked, jagged gravel desert, and tumbleweeds roll among the weathered wooden crosses in the hot desert wind. The city of the dead seems as provisional as the city of the living. Paper flowers lie on the Mexican graves, the graves of the Jews have their own grove, and where the gravestones have already been broken to pieces by time, there is, among cacti and tin cans, a weathered fence and on a metal plate there is a name: John Wesley Hardin.
Hardin, one of the monstrosities from the bloody history of America’s founding. He could have come from McCarthy’s Blood Meridian—probably the most sadistic killer from Texas, he was the son of a preacher. At the age of 15 he shot and killed his first victim, a black man. “Most of the gunslingers started early,” says McCarthy. “Hardin later switched sides. And was shot dead in a saloon in El Paso.” McCarthy likes this point.
There are times for agreements and times when agreements must be broken. Finally it comes time for a meeting between the author and the reporter.
He is shorter than expected. He seems compact, athletic, and the open face is younger than the one in the photos. Grey-green eyes with long eyelashes and the calm, certain movements of a man who knows how to survive in the desert.
He worked on the corrections to his new novel, the second part of a trilogy, and he worked, as he does every day, from seven to twelve in the afternoon. With writing, he says, he’s never had any problems.
Now, however, the commercial dimension of his work has changed. A few weeks ago, the first part of his trilogy, All the Pretty Horses, made its way to the bestseller list of the New York Times, and many of his novels are currently being reissued. McCarthy, the author, is experiencing a veritable boom. The outlaw of American literature has been discovered for the department store chains. The thought of it unsettles him.
He has never squandered a single moment thinking about readers or a readership. And now, at 59, he is suddenly threatened with a late success. He’ll dye his hair, he says, get a false ID, and disappear over the border. “Bestseller lists have nothing to do with literature.” He shakes his head. “Have you ever looked at the titles on those lists? Do you think it’s flattering to be placed in such company?” His success—a horrendous misunderstanding.
Perhaps he’s right. At first glance, All the Pretty Horses may seem more conventional than all his previous books. The novel tells of two adolescent fifteen year olds from Texas and their adventures: John Grady and his friend ride over the Mexican border and work on a hacienda. Grady falls in love with the daughter of the haciendero, he survives a Mexican prison, he returns home.
Yet the novel, which consists almost exclusively of concise, unerring dialogues between two youths, circles around themes like love and honor and death. Above all, however, the novel depicts a journey—a search for identity and for the history of America.
“America is a provisional arrangement like no other country on Earth,” says Cormac McCarthy. “An invention without history.” Here, on the bloody meridian of the Southwest, where the cities, highways, and shopping malls of the desert look like fleetingly pitched tents and even glass palaces seem like provisional arrangements, here archaic prehistory is still open, still on top. The newspaper relates a shootout among teenagers and reports about investigations into a false preacher who conned his parish. Craziness and weapons, McCarthyland.
He tells of his trips to Chihuahua, of the ranches and the horse breeds of the region. His friends are more interested in horses than in books, and even in his neighborhood hardly anyone knows that he writes novels. There are no literati among his friends. Yet there are a few mathematicians and physicists.
He is fascinated by the perspective that astrophysics puts human history in. It is the perspective of the gods—there below the senseless scrabbling of humanity and its suffering.
There’s something to be said, he says, for the fact that the experiment known as Man will soon be over. And remarkably—like the preachers in his novels, Cormac McCarthy is also a moralist. Less fanatical, more resigned. When he speaks about demise, he speaks not about ecological or economic catastrophes, but about the death of the inner man, about the death of meaning. “How can one live without morality?” he says at one point.
We are sitting in the El Paso airport restaurant and watching the setting sun, gleaming red over the violet hills at the end of the tarmac. “The Evening Redness in the West” is the subtitle of his novel Blood Meridian, a book that, like the terrifying paintings of Hieronymus Bosch, provides metaphors for the decline of humaneness and thus of humanity.
He will continue to write about this in a gleaming, solemn, lyric language, to write like no other writes—and then his books too will drift away, of that he’s certain. And he laughs.
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