René > Recent Status Updates

DNF overmuch exposition

Wasn't expecting the book to get political!

A study of reading choices concludes that people who read literary fiction are better at recognizing other's mental states than those who read popular, plot-driven fiction with stereotypical characters. If you're a snob, this article is your conversation opener.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2013/...

Grabbing a dying woman's boob in church. Real classy, man, real fuckin' classy.

When times are bad you recognize your fair-weather friends. The real friends are those that hire private detectives to expose your cheatin' spouse.

Engrossing stuff. The 5-page chapters are short and exciting.

boooooooooooooooooooooooored

This book is such a revelation! Because the writing is voluntarily elliptical about the emotional engagement of the main character, the show-don't-tell ethic becomes patent and its full power is revealed (ok, that sounds ominous)

Autistic boy coldly relates facts that would severely affect a more empathic person. Apparently autism is an atrophy of the empathic brain whereas anorexia may be the opposite : an atrophy of the systemic brain. I read this in a magazine, not a real one one that was online, on the internet, but the content is the same. Another article on internet said that ereading isn't really reading, by another author.

Well, Patroclus, I'm sorry to say, I'm starting to deplore your innate whininess.

Anyone for a gay spoiler?

Strangely enough, the intriguing character is not Achilles, simplistic in his godlike perfection, but the narrator Patroclus, his companion, who is flawed and yet carries some strange power over Achilles that is yet to be revealed.

Halfway through and still no talk of race. Nor, come to think of it, of history. Soooo academic.

“Either I got better or I fell down, down, like a burning, then burnt-out star, from Belsize, to Caplan, to Wymark and finally, after Doctor Nolan and Mrs. Guinea had given me up, to the state place next door.”

That sentence describes the scale of prestige of various asylums.

That such a beautiful mind as this ultimately wanted to off itself is, somehow, an excruciating indictment of our biology.

This book is absolutely amazing. I have no idea what I'm reading. It reminds me of that line from the Bob Dylan song: "something is happenin' here but you don't know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones?"

‘Patients were told, “we don’t have any chloroform available, but here, bite this bullet while we cut your leg off.” An oral surgeon has found traces of tooth enamel, embedded from biting down hard, on some of Harden’s bullets.’

“I doubt any of the Marleys feel sad or second-rate. Their voices are identical to Bob’s. They’re all international music stars in their own right, hugely successful all over the world and multimillionaires to boot, but it doesn’t quite cut it with me. I’m da judge. It’s not good enough. And these are my friends, I can do better, I think, which makes me fear that deep, deep down inside I’m truly an asshole [...]”

“For all her self-indulgent, selfish bullshit, for all her divorces, botox, boob lifts and butt bleach, Extravaganza is devoted to whatever family she’s in at the moment, and this includes all of us.”

I'm touched by the grudging respect we all owe those family members that hold a far-flung family together in spite of monumental differences that have done nothing but increase over time.

“I’ll need to re-use the same filthy gear and clothes from the rainforest, all of it infested with lemon ants and jaguar poop.”

“Just FYI, the full airfare or rack hotel rate you pay subsidizes my free flight in the next seat and my free room next door, you know, the one with the rutting wildebeests keeping you up all night with the squeaking bed and headboard smacking the wall.”

I hate this man.

The kindle version is free on Amazon - just downloaded it.

"Once he had stilled the voices expressing alarms and questions that screamed through his thoughts, The Sufi began to hear the plaintive cries of lost pieces of himself, still outside, as they struggled to climb, small and alone, to the mountain’s summit."

"Almost," The Magician answered. He felt a bit distracted. Anxiety and whiskey were having lover's quarrels in his stomach. Something was terribly wrong.