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Library of America #380
The Moviegoer & Other Novels 1961-1971 (LOA #380): The Moviegoer / The Last Gentleman / Love in the Ruins
In 1 volume, 3 classic early works by the Southern physician-turned-novelist who galvanized American literature with stories of spiritual searching amid modern angst
Includes the landmark, National Book Award–winning The Moviegoer , in a fully annotation edition
A physician-turned-writer and self-described diagnostician of “the malaise,” Percy plumbed the depths of modern American angst and alienation as few other writers have. Now he joins the Library of America series with a volume collecting his first 3 books.
The Moviegoer (1961), winner of the 1962 National Book Award for Fiction, is the story of John Bickerson "Binx" Bolling, a New Orleans stockbroker who finds in movies a resplendent reality that lifts him, for a time, out of the mire of everydayness. Binx is a modern-day pilgrim whose progress unfolds in what editor Paul Elie calls "the first work of what we call contemporary American fiction, the earliest novel to render a set of circumstances and an outlook that still feel recognizably ours."
In The Last Gentleman (1966), Percy portrays another troubled, searching young man, this time a southerner living in New York whose intermitent amnesia and odd moments of déjà vu lead him to imagine that the world catastrophe everyone fears has already occurred.
A satirical work of speculative fiction, Love in the Ruins (1971) introduces lapsed-Catholic psychiatrist Dr. Thomas More, inventor of the lapsometer, a devise that measures the spiritual sickness of a near-apocalyptic America torn apart by the forces of the far right and left.
Rounding out the volume are three short nonfiction pieces by his speech upon accepting the National Book Award, his special message to readers of the Franklin edition of The Moviegoer , and his address to the Publicists’ Association of the National Book Awards concerning Love in the Ruins .
Includes the landmark, National Book Award–winning The Moviegoer , in a fully annotation edition
A physician-turned-writer and self-described diagnostician of “the malaise,” Percy plumbed the depths of modern American angst and alienation as few other writers have. Now he joins the Library of America series with a volume collecting his first 3 books.
The Moviegoer (1961), winner of the 1962 National Book Award for Fiction, is the story of John Bickerson "Binx" Bolling, a New Orleans stockbroker who finds in movies a resplendent reality that lifts him, for a time, out of the mire of everydayness. Binx is a modern-day pilgrim whose progress unfolds in what editor Paul Elie calls "the first work of what we call contemporary American fiction, the earliest novel to render a set of circumstances and an outlook that still feel recognizably ours."
In The Last Gentleman (1966), Percy portrays another troubled, searching young man, this time a southerner living in New York whose intermitent amnesia and odd moments of déjà vu lead him to imagine that the world catastrophe everyone fears has already occurred.
A satirical work of speculative fiction, Love in the Ruins (1971) introduces lapsed-Catholic psychiatrist Dr. Thomas More, inventor of the lapsometer, a devise that measures the spiritual sickness of a near-apocalyptic America torn apart by the forces of the far right and left.
Rounding out the volume are three short nonfiction pieces by his speech upon accepting the National Book Award, his special message to readers of the Franklin edition of The Moviegoer , and his address to the Publicists’ Association of the National Book Awards concerning Love in the Ruins .
- GenresLiterature
1000 pages, Hardcover
Published May 7, 2024
1 person is currently reading
39 people want to read
About the author
Walker Percy
53 books814 followersWalker Percy was an American writer whose interests included philosophy and semiotics. Percy is noted for his philosophical novels set in and around New Orleans; his first, The Moviegoer, won the National Book Award for Fiction.
Trained as a physician at Columbia University, Percy decided to become a writer after a bout of tuberculosis. He devoted his literary life to the exploration of "the dislocation of man in the modern age." His work displays a combination of existential questioning, Southern sensibility, and deep Catholic faith. He had a lifelong friendship with author and historian Shelby Foote and spent much of his life in Covington, Louisiana, where he died of prostate cancer in 1990.
Trained as a physician at Columbia University, Percy decided to become a writer after a bout of tuberculosis. He devoted his literary life to the exploration of "the dislocation of man in the modern age." His work displays a combination of existential questioning, Southern sensibility, and deep Catholic faith. He had a lifelong friendship with author and historian Shelby Foote and spent much of his life in Covington, Louisiana, where he died of prostate cancer in 1990.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
July 29, 2024
This welcome and long-overdue anthology starts with what early on made its author’s name. Would such an acerbic mix of send-up and deep-dive by an unknown grab any attention six-odd decades on, as publishers excise offense, impose sensitivity and reject imaginative efforts from those audited as liable to spark {outrage} among affinity groups? The Library of America has tallied nearly four hundred volumes before including Walker Percy. Editor Paul Elie, who in the heated summer of 2020 judged that one of the first writers featured in this canonical series, Flannery O’Connor, was racist, now compiles three exemplars of her fellow scrutinizer of her sultry, sullen region’s inheritors of a vexed legacy. Elie’s 2003 biography {The Life You Save May Be Your Own} integrated O’Connor, Percy, Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton. Elie crosscut between these sharp influencers, at the zenith of Catholicism among the smart set (all but the first of the four were converts). And just before the vows of the Second Vatican Council to open its cloisters to the world resulted in the decline rather than culmination of its convictions. Percy outlived his peers; he died in 1990 unhappy with the Church’s erratic, hubristic trajectory.
His study of a young New Orleans broker documents on its surface this callow fellow’s spare moments in theaters. Examined closely, belying its title’s perhaps intentionally (and never expressed explicitly, so maybe sophomoric) Platonic metaphor, a careful reading of this 1961 work finds fewer scenes in the movie houses, and many more evoking the existential despair of a United States under the shadow of the atom bomb. Walker Percy limns the mentality of a representative of this grim era, while the numbed mass distractions of deadened phrases, cliched small talk, pop-psych babble, what we'd come to call after Vietnam PTSD, glad-handing businessmen and suburban malaise prove relevant contexts for our own blinkered worldviews.
For a short novel, it moves slowly. Binx Bolling, through whose Kierkegaardian sickness of the soul filters the intentionally hermetic mood of this naturally introspective narrative, laments his predicament, speaks too well of, from, and to his generation. It’s doubtful this survives as assigned reading for many literature courses, relegated alongside {The Crying of Lot 49} or {White Noise} into set-pieces now relics of their intolerant creators, rather than our zeitgeist.
Fitting its painfully self-aware, self-deprecating and self-driven main character, Percy's prose forces the reader to perceive Binx' gradual maturation, stripped of sentimentality, life-affirming resolutions and "This I Believe" inspirational radio claptrap. This excoriating content doesn’t cavort or wear out its slot on stage as the puppets of the cave move, across a dim screen.
{The Moviegoer} demands attention must be paid to nuance, and in his first novel, Percy's grasp of the mechanics for a coming-of-age chronicle, a satire, a love story from a gauche ladies' man (unsettling in a post-Don Draper mode compared to the hire-a-nurse-or-secretary set-up as Binx’ hands-on, definitely touch-non-screen digitized version of IRL pre-Tinder), reveal Percy’s signature tics. Cerebral frat boys turned hypocritical, upper-middle-class scions of country clubs, trade conventions (in more than one sense) and half sports-banter, half-rueful admissions of emptiness amidst plenty. It's not light fare; taken without distractions, with immersion, readers two-thirds of a century on may benefit from Percy's ear for the patter of sales reps, bloated cousins, tiresome stepfamilies and eye for beaten-down stiffs and schmoes.
The gravity of the material gets eased by levity. For those who've already come to know Percy's Southern gentlemen of a certain mien, upbringing, privilege, and hauteur, the likes of Bing will echo within 1977’s {Lancelot}, and a pair of paired fictions each created years apart, but which reward back-to-back double features when it comes to audiences visiting them in repertoire.
One recognizes in {The Moviegoer}’s brash debut a protagonist familiar as Dr. Tom More in 1971’s {Love in the Ruins}, also in this anthology, and 1987’s {The Thanatos Syndrome}. Who channels its creator's professional training in medical science, and who determines to fiddle with enough knobs and fry a few wires to usher in what Stanley Milgram and Philip Zimbardo would make into infamous household names for postwar experiments during a stint when Percy first researched as a physician and then fictionalized doctors very like collegial professors.
Softer humanism emerges. See Binx’ terminally-ill relative Lonnie. Percy avoids maudlin dangers of an {Of Mice and Men} buddy script. Such brief, but convincing, conversations attests to talent which would win this rookie a National Book Award. It's a run in the Manhattan-managed majors, with insights enriching {The Last Gentleman} here and {The Second Coming}, a tandem, less reached for nowadays than {The Moviegoer}; {Love in the Ruins} indicted as “problematic.”
Those two overlooked works engage with a less ornery, more composed and wryly amenable Christian approach which trims the snark. It dampens the libidos of typically Percy-male starring roles. A trait that may not have worn well since dramatizations of Will Barrett appeared in 1966 and 1980 in turn. (Percy’s family on both sides suffered from depression; more than one of his direct forebears committed suicide; his depictions of men and women mired in self-destruction loom as haunting verification in figures throughout his fictions, seekers within recognizable everyday settings where apocalypse hovers. God sulks rather than descends as a light spirit.) These Barrett books expand into a satisfying and downright moving road-trip the search which Binx had embarked upon for meaning in a secularized, bottom-line, tipsy top-down society. And a quest (Percy’s other standalone long-form tale’s titled after an Arthurian hero) that Binx decides to set aside out of reticence once he does the honest thing at its deft, sly conclusion.
His study of a young New Orleans broker documents on its surface this callow fellow’s spare moments in theaters. Examined closely, belying its title’s perhaps intentionally (and never expressed explicitly, so maybe sophomoric) Platonic metaphor, a careful reading of this 1961 work finds fewer scenes in the movie houses, and many more evoking the existential despair of a United States under the shadow of the atom bomb. Walker Percy limns the mentality of a representative of this grim era, while the numbed mass distractions of deadened phrases, cliched small talk, pop-psych babble, what we'd come to call after Vietnam PTSD, glad-handing businessmen and suburban malaise prove relevant contexts for our own blinkered worldviews.
For a short novel, it moves slowly. Binx Bolling, through whose Kierkegaardian sickness of the soul filters the intentionally hermetic mood of this naturally introspective narrative, laments his predicament, speaks too well of, from, and to his generation. It’s doubtful this survives as assigned reading for many literature courses, relegated alongside {The Crying of Lot 49} or {White Noise} into set-pieces now relics of their intolerant creators, rather than our zeitgeist.
Fitting its painfully self-aware, self-deprecating and self-driven main character, Percy's prose forces the reader to perceive Binx' gradual maturation, stripped of sentimentality, life-affirming resolutions and "This I Believe" inspirational radio claptrap. This excoriating content doesn’t cavort or wear out its slot on stage as the puppets of the cave move, across a dim screen.
{The Moviegoer} demands attention must be paid to nuance, and in his first novel, Percy's grasp of the mechanics for a coming-of-age chronicle, a satire, a love story from a gauche ladies' man (unsettling in a post-Don Draper mode compared to the hire-a-nurse-or-secretary set-up as Binx’ hands-on, definitely touch-non-screen digitized version of IRL pre-Tinder), reveal Percy’s signature tics. Cerebral frat boys turned hypocritical, upper-middle-class scions of country clubs, trade conventions (in more than one sense) and half sports-banter, half-rueful admissions of emptiness amidst plenty. It's not light fare; taken without distractions, with immersion, readers two-thirds of a century on may benefit from Percy's ear for the patter of sales reps, bloated cousins, tiresome stepfamilies and eye for beaten-down stiffs and schmoes.
The gravity of the material gets eased by levity. For those who've already come to know Percy's Southern gentlemen of a certain mien, upbringing, privilege, and hauteur, the likes of Bing will echo within 1977’s {Lancelot}, and a pair of paired fictions each created years apart, but which reward back-to-back double features when it comes to audiences visiting them in repertoire.
One recognizes in {The Moviegoer}’s brash debut a protagonist familiar as Dr. Tom More in 1971’s {Love in the Ruins}, also in this anthology, and 1987’s {The Thanatos Syndrome}. Who channels its creator's professional training in medical science, and who determines to fiddle with enough knobs and fry a few wires to usher in what Stanley Milgram and Philip Zimbardo would make into infamous household names for postwar experiments during a stint when Percy first researched as a physician and then fictionalized doctors very like collegial professors.
Softer humanism emerges. See Binx’ terminally-ill relative Lonnie. Percy avoids maudlin dangers of an {Of Mice and Men} buddy script. Such brief, but convincing, conversations attests to talent which would win this rookie a National Book Award. It's a run in the Manhattan-managed majors, with insights enriching {The Last Gentleman} here and {The Second Coming}, a tandem, less reached for nowadays than {The Moviegoer}; {Love in the Ruins} indicted as “problematic.”
Those two overlooked works engage with a less ornery, more composed and wryly amenable Christian approach which trims the snark. It dampens the libidos of typically Percy-male starring roles. A trait that may not have worn well since dramatizations of Will Barrett appeared in 1966 and 1980 in turn. (Percy’s family on both sides suffered from depression; more than one of his direct forebears committed suicide; his depictions of men and women mired in self-destruction loom as haunting verification in figures throughout his fictions, seekers within recognizable everyday settings where apocalypse hovers. God sulks rather than descends as a light spirit.) These Barrett books expand into a satisfying and downright moving road-trip the search which Binx had embarked upon for meaning in a secularized, bottom-line, tipsy top-down society. And a quest (Percy’s other standalone long-form tale’s titled after an Arthurian hero) that Binx decides to set aside out of reticence once he does the honest thing at its deft, sly conclusion.
September 19, 2025
The Moviegoer by Walker Percy is included on two of the most significant lists of the best novels: The All-TIME 100 Novels https://entertainment.time.com/2005/1... and The 100 Best Novels compiled by The Modern Library https://www.modernlibrary.com/top-100...
10 out of 10
The Moviegoer is fabulous at the second reading, perhaps even more elating than the first time, and the fact that this magnificent Magnum opus sits on two of the most relevant reading lists confirms the absolute glory of a novel that is complex and yet avoiding unnecessary loquaciousness, meditative and romantic, somewhat depraved (maybe the narrator would get into an intimate relationship with his [first] cousin) and at the same time sophisticated, pure, concerned with the Search into which the hero, Jack ‘Binx’ Bolling is immersed, in contrast with ninety eight percent of Americans, who believe in god, are atheist or agnostic – it could have been true in 1961, when this miraculous book was published, but the percentages have changed, there are more atheists today, though the majority is still solid Christian, and a good number of them fundamentalist, believing in the Chosen one that had come to earth to say he is ‘the very stable genius’, devotees should drink disinfectant, he has won the elections, but he is the victim of the Big Steal, concocted and implemented with the help of Italian satellites…in short, the Absolute fool, leading a multitude of monkeys…
There is much to say though in favor of erudition, elevated conversation, sophistication (even for the elites, understanding in that people who are cultivated, know a fool when they see one, even if he calls himself a ‘very stable genius ‘and has a following of more than one hundred million fanatics) and reading this chef d’oeuvre gives one the feeling of belonging to this privileged class, of a small coterie of Moviegoers
About the deeper levels of the narrative, the malaise, existentialist themes (we find that the brilliant author has been influenced by Soren Kierkegaard), the phenomenological aspects of the masterpiece, the undersigned is not able to put anything down except perhaps more gibberish and refer to a state of bliss that is conferred upon him, when not understanding the deeper messages, but feeling Blissful to feel a ‘je ne sais quoi’, something beneath the still waters (that run deep according to yet another stupid saying…all of them are silly, according to our most revered luminary, Constantin Noica http://realini.blogspot.com/2015/01/b... and this one is another proof, for you can have a hole in the road with ‘still water’ and yet that would not be deep)
However, what fascinated this reader was the personality, evolution of the protagonist and the ‘happenings’ in which he is involved, his thinking (alas, without being able to comprehend the deeper currents, more than a small part of what is insinuated in this marvelous chef d’oeuvre) the angst and the equanimity which seem to alternate, the metaphysical quality of his life, which is yet so superficial at times – he has a fling with his secretaries, including the current one, Sharon Kincaid, from Eufala, Alabama, and when he takes Sharon to the ocean, he sees her roommate, Joyce, at the window and thinks about being with the latter, or maybe both, why not a multitude of women at the same time
John Bickerson ‘Binx’ Bolling is captivated by his Search for God, meaning, the truth, Nirvana, some other Revelation, or all at the same time and while he is embarked on this Magnificent Quest, he appears to be confused, alienated, doing things as if in a trance, or just sleepwalking, for he is both pushing Sharon, and declares he has been infatuated with her -there may be more to deduct form his words, but then it is also indicated to read much less from the statements he and all the rest of us make, proclaiming that ‘there are no words to show how much we feel’…Thomas Mann has a short story that puts this habit into perspective and shame…
This magnum opus has an incredible, stupendous mix of the erudite reference to Tolstoy, fundamental books, Einstein, and odd, often satirical humor – the landlady is racist and has taken three dogs, for their reputation of a ‘dislike for Negros’, one is kicked by the hero, who calls it Rosebud, for the habit it has of showing his anus, and maybe in mock reference to Citizen Kane, for many the best movie ever made…Binx refers to many movies and stars (he is after all The Moviegoer) and this is the main aspect where the under signed identifies almost completely with the main character, for we share a love of for motion pictures, proved by the more than 3,500 notes on various features you can find at https://notesaboutfilms.blogspot.com/
The pretense that the narrator (the hero tells us his story) has all his important events connected with the movies looks like an exaggeration, but we could try some ‘deeper’ analysis and look at the hidden significance of this, which could express a loneliness, a detachment from reality (which could be less enticing that what is there on the big screen), although there is also a symbiosis between his life and the motion pictures…he remembers exactly where he has seen one or another movie, the weather, atmosphere and we could say that the feelings provoked by the seventh art sip into reality and vice versa, different moods and events lead to selecting one film in particular…Binx remembers a lady that sells tickets at the theater where he had seen the Oxbow Incident, who has seven grandchildren and they keep exchanging Christmas cards…
The Moviegoer is an incredible cocktail of highbrow and simple pleasure – as in the moment when one character seemed to be near death and says ‘keep to Bach and the early Italians’, or the Soren Kierkegaard — 'The specific character of despair is precisely this: it is unaware of being despair'
Quote which is placed at the beginning of this masterpiece – and the multitude of themes that are clearly proposed in the text, or just insinuated…there is the majesty of the nobility of the South – although this place has come to resonate with Trump mobs, stupid claims of Big Steal, taking horse medicine (is it ivermectine, just to see if I have a good memory for useless pieces of rubbish) instead of scientifically approved and confirmed in practice vaccines – exemplified by the comparison of Kate Cutrer to Natasha Rostov and then later, the dialogue with aunt Emily Cutrer, who talks about class and mediocrity, the Decline and Fall - incidentally, another chef d’oeuvre http://realini.blogspot.com/2021/10/p... - of aristocracy and the arrival of the ‘common man’ and notwithstanding the arrogance, feeling of justified privilege implied there, which is anathema these days, when the emphasis placed by Ayn Rand on individualism looks not just out of place, but destined to get one banned (oh, it is often so pleasurable to know that the upside of not being known and read is that nobody protests, howls and cancels you, for…nobody is here to listen)
I will repeat this phrase…There is much to say though in favor of erudition, elevated conversation, sophistication (even for the elites, understanding in that people who are cultivated, know a fool when they see one, even if he calls himself a ‘very stable genius ‘and has a following of more than one hundred million fanatics) and reading this chef d’oeuvre gives one the feeling of belonging to this privileged class, of a small coterie of Moviegoers
10 out of 10
The Moviegoer is fabulous at the second reading, perhaps even more elating than the first time, and the fact that this magnificent Magnum opus sits on two of the most relevant reading lists confirms the absolute glory of a novel that is complex and yet avoiding unnecessary loquaciousness, meditative and romantic, somewhat depraved (maybe the narrator would get into an intimate relationship with his [first] cousin) and at the same time sophisticated, pure, concerned with the Search into which the hero, Jack ‘Binx’ Bolling is immersed, in contrast with ninety eight percent of Americans, who believe in god, are atheist or agnostic – it could have been true in 1961, when this miraculous book was published, but the percentages have changed, there are more atheists today, though the majority is still solid Christian, and a good number of them fundamentalist, believing in the Chosen one that had come to earth to say he is ‘the very stable genius’, devotees should drink disinfectant, he has won the elections, but he is the victim of the Big Steal, concocted and implemented with the help of Italian satellites…in short, the Absolute fool, leading a multitude of monkeys…
There is much to say though in favor of erudition, elevated conversation, sophistication (even for the elites, understanding in that people who are cultivated, know a fool when they see one, even if he calls himself a ‘very stable genius ‘and has a following of more than one hundred million fanatics) and reading this chef d’oeuvre gives one the feeling of belonging to this privileged class, of a small coterie of Moviegoers
About the deeper levels of the narrative, the malaise, existentialist themes (we find that the brilliant author has been influenced by Soren Kierkegaard), the phenomenological aspects of the masterpiece, the undersigned is not able to put anything down except perhaps more gibberish and refer to a state of bliss that is conferred upon him, when not understanding the deeper messages, but feeling Blissful to feel a ‘je ne sais quoi’, something beneath the still waters (that run deep according to yet another stupid saying…all of them are silly, according to our most revered luminary, Constantin Noica http://realini.blogspot.com/2015/01/b... and this one is another proof, for you can have a hole in the road with ‘still water’ and yet that would not be deep)
However, what fascinated this reader was the personality, evolution of the protagonist and the ‘happenings’ in which he is involved, his thinking (alas, without being able to comprehend the deeper currents, more than a small part of what is insinuated in this marvelous chef d’oeuvre) the angst and the equanimity which seem to alternate, the metaphysical quality of his life, which is yet so superficial at times – he has a fling with his secretaries, including the current one, Sharon Kincaid, from Eufala, Alabama, and when he takes Sharon to the ocean, he sees her roommate, Joyce, at the window and thinks about being with the latter, or maybe both, why not a multitude of women at the same time
John Bickerson ‘Binx’ Bolling is captivated by his Search for God, meaning, the truth, Nirvana, some other Revelation, or all at the same time and while he is embarked on this Magnificent Quest, he appears to be confused, alienated, doing things as if in a trance, or just sleepwalking, for he is both pushing Sharon, and declares he has been infatuated with her -there may be more to deduct form his words, but then it is also indicated to read much less from the statements he and all the rest of us make, proclaiming that ‘there are no words to show how much we feel’…Thomas Mann has a short story that puts this habit into perspective and shame…
This magnum opus has an incredible, stupendous mix of the erudite reference to Tolstoy, fundamental books, Einstein, and odd, often satirical humor – the landlady is racist and has taken three dogs, for their reputation of a ‘dislike for Negros’, one is kicked by the hero, who calls it Rosebud, for the habit it has of showing his anus, and maybe in mock reference to Citizen Kane, for many the best movie ever made…Binx refers to many movies and stars (he is after all The Moviegoer) and this is the main aspect where the under signed identifies almost completely with the main character, for we share a love of for motion pictures, proved by the more than 3,500 notes on various features you can find at https://notesaboutfilms.blogspot.com/
The pretense that the narrator (the hero tells us his story) has all his important events connected with the movies looks like an exaggeration, but we could try some ‘deeper’ analysis and look at the hidden significance of this, which could express a loneliness, a detachment from reality (which could be less enticing that what is there on the big screen), although there is also a symbiosis between his life and the motion pictures…he remembers exactly where he has seen one or another movie, the weather, atmosphere and we could say that the feelings provoked by the seventh art sip into reality and vice versa, different moods and events lead to selecting one film in particular…Binx remembers a lady that sells tickets at the theater where he had seen the Oxbow Incident, who has seven grandchildren and they keep exchanging Christmas cards…
The Moviegoer is an incredible cocktail of highbrow and simple pleasure – as in the moment when one character seemed to be near death and says ‘keep to Bach and the early Italians’, or the Soren Kierkegaard — 'The specific character of despair is precisely this: it is unaware of being despair'
Quote which is placed at the beginning of this masterpiece – and the multitude of themes that are clearly proposed in the text, or just insinuated…there is the majesty of the nobility of the South – although this place has come to resonate with Trump mobs, stupid claims of Big Steal, taking horse medicine (is it ivermectine, just to see if I have a good memory for useless pieces of rubbish) instead of scientifically approved and confirmed in practice vaccines – exemplified by the comparison of Kate Cutrer to Natasha Rostov and then later, the dialogue with aunt Emily Cutrer, who talks about class and mediocrity, the Decline and Fall - incidentally, another chef d’oeuvre http://realini.blogspot.com/2021/10/p... - of aristocracy and the arrival of the ‘common man’ and notwithstanding the arrogance, feeling of justified privilege implied there, which is anathema these days, when the emphasis placed by Ayn Rand on individualism looks not just out of place, but destined to get one banned (oh, it is often so pleasurable to know that the upside of not being known and read is that nobody protests, howls and cancels you, for…nobody is here to listen)
I will repeat this phrase…There is much to say though in favor of erudition, elevated conversation, sophistication (even for the elites, understanding in that people who are cultivated, know a fool when they see one, even if he calls himself a ‘very stable genius ‘and has a following of more than one hundred million fanatics) and reading this chef d’oeuvre gives one the feeling of belonging to this privileged class, of a small coterie of Moviegoers
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