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192 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
He says, you make me feel like the old days, good fat, not bad fat.
Eating is a total and literal act of consummation. The Fat Men would incorporate in their own bodies all that could be good and noble in the revolution and excrete that which is bad. In other words, the bodies of Fat Men will purify the revolution.
The following results were gathered from a study of twenty-three successive "Fantonis".... Whilst it can be admitted that studies so far are at an early stage, the results surely justify the continuation of the experiments with larger groups.
And she walks above my head, probably arranging the little white dolls which she will not explain and which I never ask about, knowing she will not explain, and not for the moment wishing an explanation.
She arranges the dolls in unexpected places. So that, walking up the stairs a little drunk, one might be confronted with a collection of bald white dolls huddled together in a swarm.
The results of the census play an important part in our national life and have, for many years, been the pivot point for the yearly "Festival of the Corn" (an ancient festival, related to the wealth of the earth).
It appears that for some time certain regions of the country had become less and less real and these regions were regarded fearfully even by the Cartographers, who prided themselves on their courage.
I try to feel love for my father, I try very, very hard.
I attempt to remember how I felt about him when I was little, in the days when he was still occasionally tender towards me.
But it's no good.
Those were the days before the Americans came, and before the Fastalogians who succeeded them, descending in their space ships from god knows what unimaginable worlds.
Their business was the Genetic Lottery or The Chance...
Since the puppet government had dropped its funeral assistance plan this was how poor people raised money for funerals. It was a common sight to see dead bodies in rented suits being displayed on the footpaths.
To cut a long and predictable story short, we got on well together, if you'll allow for the odd lie on my part and what must have been more than a considerable suppression of commonsense on hers.
She looked up sharply, staring directly into my eyes, and I think then she finally knew that I was serious. We sat staring at each other, entering an unreal country as frightening as any I have ever travelled in.
Bloody Vincent. Here I am, a woman of thirty-five, and I still can't handle a fool like Vincent. He's like a yellow dog, one of those curs who hangs around your back door for scraps and you feed him once, you show him a little affection, and he stays there. He's yours. You're his.
[Vincent] gave my records to a man in the pub, so he says, and if that's what he says then the real thing is worse.
[Vincent] had fallen, once more, victim to his own terrible brilliance. He had helped a colonial power (Farrow) wreak havoc and injury on an innocent people (the Upward Islanders) and he had been proud to do it.
.... I now like [Vincent] as much as I once despised him.
I know only that he walks slowly and talks calmly, is funny without being attention-seeking, accepts praise modestly and is now lying on my bed smiling at me.
The clown held the bird. The straight man was at the wheel.
In a terrestrial environment the whole process was speeded up, moisture and a less formidable ground surface accelerating the growth rate to such an extent that a single seed could emerge as a small tree on a busy freeway in less than seven days.
Mort watched the programme with the same detachment with which earlier generations had greeted oil spills or explosions in chemical plants.
Service stations in the north were overcome by green vegetation...
The Mime arrived on Alitalia with very little luggage: a brown paper parcel and what looked like a woman's handbag.
Asked the contents of the brown paper parcel he said, "String."
Asked what the string was for he replied: "Tying up bigger parcels."
His popularity declined. It was felt that he had become obscure and beyond the understanding of ordinary people. In response he requested easier questions. He held back nothing of himself in his effort to please his audience.
No one has told him anything except that he must not ask questions.
To the north of the road he marked out a rough grid. Each square of this grid ... can be calculated to contain approximately one bucket of scorpions. His plan ... is to rid the desert of a bucket full for each day he is here. As of this moment one square can be reckoned to be clear of scorpions.
Walking slowly towards the caravan he looks once more at the windmill which is slowly disappearing in the dark western sky.
He flicks the carbine to automatic and, having raised it gently to his shoulder, pours the whole magazine into the sun which continues to set in the east. ... his own shadow, long and lean, stretching along the road, cast by the sun which is rising in the "west".
Before hanging up the major asks, what side of the wire was he on?
The soldier replies, on the outside.
... he had hoped to settle a few questions regarding the "outside" and "inside". It will be impossible to settle them now.
What has happened is that we all, all eight hundred of us, have come to remember small transgressions against Mr. Gleason who once lived amongst us.
Everyone I knew was there in that tiny town. If they were not in the streets or in their backyards they were inside their houses, and it didn't take very long to discover that you could lift off the roofs and peer inside.
... I was the one who found Mrs. Cavanagh in bed with young Craigie Evans.
Unemployment had become a way of life and the vagabonds had formed into bands with leaders, organizations and even, in some cases, apocalyptic religions whose leaders preached the coming of the millennium.
I was more than a little frightened. I began to understand why men raze villages and annihilate whole populations. The 22 under my arm nagged at me, producing feelings that were intense, unnameable, and not totally unpleasurable.
I had not been outside for three weeks and the heat which I had seen as air-conditioned sunshine now became a very raw reality.
BUSINESS MUST GO ON. That is what the hell we are here for... I can live in white sheets and ironed shirts and drink gin and tonic in long glasses, well away from all this.
Each man had a flamethrower strapped to his back and I smiled to think that these men had been producing food to feed those whom they would now destroy.
As I watched men run through the heat burning other men alive, I knew that thousands of men had stood on hills or roofs and watched such scenes of terrible destruction, the result of nothing more than their fear and their intelligence.
"It [the lottery] proved the last straw. The total embrace of a cancerous philosophy of change. The populace became like mercury in each other's minds and arms. Institutions that had proved the very basis of our society (the family, the neighbourhood, marriage) cracked and split apart in the face of a new shrill current of desperate selfishness. The city itself stood like an external endorsement to this internal collapse and recalled the most exotic places (Calcutta, for instance) where the rich had once journeyed to experience the thrilling stink of poverty, the smell of danger, and the just-contained threat of violence born of envy."
"'I wish you'd just shut-up,' I hissed, although she had said nothing. 'And don't patronize me with your stupid smart-talk.' I was shaking with rage. She looked me straight in the eye before she punched me. I laid one straight back. 'That's why I love you, damn you.' 'Why?' she screamed, holding her hand over her face. 'For God's sake, why?' 'Because we'll both have black eyes.' She started laughing just as I began to cry."
"In the end I shall be judged. They will write about me in books and take care to explain me so badly that it is better that I do it myself. They will write with the stupid smugness of middle-class intellectuals, people of moral rectitude who have never seriously placed themselves at risk. They have supported wars they have not fought in, and damned companies they have not had the courage to destroy. Their skins are fair and pampered and their bellies are corseted by expensively made jeans."
"The middle-class intellectuals were the first to discover us and we were happy enough to have them around. They came up from the south pretending they weren't middle class. They drank our wine and smoked our dope and drove around in our Cadillac and did tours of the factory. They were most surprised to find that we dressed just like they did. We were flattered that they found us so fascinating and delighted when they were scandalized. In truth we despised them. They were comfortable and had fat-arsed ideas. They went to bed early to read books about people they would try to copy. They didn't know whether to love us or hate us."