/lit/ - Literature

The first dish was a creamy soup of mushrooms and buttered snails, served in gilded bowls. Tyrion had scarcely touched the breakfast, and the wine had already gone.

[...] He called for more wine. By the time he got it, the second course was being served, a pastry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts, and eggs. Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers, as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers.

[...] Tyrion listened with half a ear, as he sampled sweetcorn fritters and hot oatbread baked with bits of date, apple, and orange, and gnawed on the rib of a wild boar.

[...] Their feats were accompanied by crabs boiled in fiery eastern spices, trenchers filled with chunks of chopped mutton stewed in almond milk with carrots, raisins, and onions, and fish tarts fresh from the ovens, served so hot they burned the fingers.

[...] Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey-ginger partridge and several cups of wine. A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian, which most of the guests could not speak. But “Bessa the Barmaid” won them back with its ribald lyrics. Peacocks were served in their plumage, roasted whole and stuffed with dates

[...] Four master pyromancers conjured up beasts of living flame to tear at each other with fiery claws whilst the serving men ladeled out bowls of blandissory, a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon. Then came some strolling pipers and clever dogs and sword swallowers, with buttered pease, chopped nuts, and slivers of swan poached in a sauce of saffron and peaches.

[...] A juggler kept a half-dozen swords and axes whirling through the air as skewers of blood sausage were brought sizzling to the tables

[...] Tyrion was toying with a leche of brawn, spiced with cinnamon, cloves, sugar, and almond milk, when King Joffrey lurched suddenly to his feet.

>What is happening in Washington right now is shocking and dismaying… but I can’t say I find it entirely unexpected.

>There have been all too many days, these past couple of years, when I feared that the United States was going the way of the Weimar Republic.

>And now the moment of coup is at hand. Rioters breaking into the Capitol, even the floor of the House and Senate. One of them trying to haul down the American flag and replace it with a Trump flag. Congressmen and senators being forced to recess and seek safety.

>Sickening.

>This is an attempted coup. Make no mistake. I am still hopeful that it will end as a failed coup, a Beer Hall Putsch, but we shall see. The inaction of law enforcement thusfar has been shocking.

>Make no mistake, these are not protestors, these are not patriots, these are rioters attempting to destroy our democracy.

>They are traitors.

>And the traitor in chief is Donald J. Trump.

>He should be arrested, removed from office, tried for treason, convicted, and imprisoned. And Rudy with him. This is their work.

I can’t believe I ever wasted my time reading this fat asses books.

>>17098362
>Frodo rose from its chair. The suckling pig with 'taters and onions dipped in garlic juice laid restless on the silver plate, inlaid with gold. Sam rose with him, a curious look on his face.
>'What's the matter lord Frodo? Is something a miss?'
>'Where's that elf whore I was promised, Sam? I came here to jest and whore my last days away, and I'm out of jest already.' said Frodo, face red with the dark Rivendell wine he drank, a red stain on his fine satin tunic. 'I want my whore and I WANT HER NOW!'
>Sam always hated when he shouted. There were days when Frodo could be as sweet and innocent as a maid on her wedding night, but there were others when he could become aggressive if something was to his dislike. This was one of those days. He always shouted when he was angry. And he always turned violent when he shouted.
>Please gods, not on my face. Please, I've been good to lord Frodo, don't let him turn his rage on my face, please!
>'Sam? My dear Sam, look at me' a sly smile was on Frodo's face, and with a gentle hand, he brushed Sam's cheek, as a man pets his dog. 'You've always been good to me, haven't you Sam? You've always been there for me... You've always been a good boy, haven't you?'
>Fear struck on his face as he watched his master unbutton his breaches. His erect cock was out before Sam could muster any sound.
>'Now Sam, let's see how deep is your Bag's End.'

>>16870009
Anon you're dangerously mad at a man who will never, ever know about your existence

>”Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?”

>Frodo rose from its chair. The suckling pig with 'taters and onions dipped in garlic juice laid restless on the silver plate, inlaid with gold. Sam rose with him, a curious look on his face.
>'What's the matter lord Frodo? Is something a miss?'
>'Where's that elf whore I was promised, Sam? I came here to jest and whore my last days away, and I'm out of jest already.' said Frodo, face red with the dark Rivendell wine he drank, a red stain on his fine satin tunic. 'I want my whore and I WANT HER NOW!'
>Sam always hated when he shouted. There were days when Frodo could be as sweet and innocent as a maid on her wedding night, but there were others when he could become aggressive if something was to his dislike. This was one of those days. He always shouted when he was angry. And he always turned violent when he shouted.
>Please gods, not on my face. Please, I've been good to lord Frodo, don't let him turn his rage on my face, please!
>'Sam? My dear Sam, look at me' a sly smile was on Frodo's face, and with a gentle hand, he brushed Sam's cheek, as a man pets his dog. 'You've always been good to me, haven't you Sam? You've always been there for me... You've always been a good boy, haven't you?'
>Fear struck on his face as he watched his master unbutton his breaches. His erect cock was out before Sam could muster any sound.
>'Now Sam, let's see how deep is your Bag's end.'

I want to write a fantasy novel in the vein of LOTR and I was wondering if the modern convention for fantasy requires that I lay out a detailed description of the Kings tax policy. If so should I weave it into the narrative or add it to an appendex at the end of the novel. Thanks.

>>14574791
Tax policy?

>>14385181
>Frodo rose from its chair. The suckling pig with 'taters and onions dipped in garlic juice laid restless on the silver plate, inlaid with gold. Sam rose with him, a curious look on his face.
>'What's the matter lord Frodo? Is something a miss?'
>'Where's that elf whore I was promised, Sam? I came here to jest and whore my last days away, and I'm out of jest already.' said Frodo, face red with the dark Rivendell wine he drank, a red stain on his fine satin tunic. 'I want my whore and I WANT HER NOW!'
>Sam always hated when he shouted. There were days when Frodo could be as sweet and innocent as a maid on her wedding night, but there were others when he could become aggressive if something was to his dislike. This was one of those days. He always shouted when he was angry. And he always turned violent when he shouted.
>Please gods, not on my face. Please, I've been good to lord Frodo, don't let him turn his rage on my face, please!
>'Sam? My dear Sam, look at me' a sly smile was on Frodo's face, and with a gentle hand, he brushed Sam's cheek, as a man pets his dog. 'You've always been good to me, haven't you Sam? You've always been there for me... You've always been a good boy, haven't you?'
>Fear struck on his face as he watched his master unbutton his breaches. His erect cock was out before Sam could muster any sound.
>'Now Sam, let's see how deep is your Bag's end.'

>>14374569
Frodo rose from its chair. The suckling pig with 'taters and onions dipped in garlic juice laid restless on the silver plate, inlaid with gold. Sam rose with him, a curious look on his face.

'What's the matter lord Frodo? Is something a miss?'

'Where's that elf whore I was promised, Sam? I came here to jest and whore my last days away, and I'm out of jest already.' said Frodo, face red with the dark Rivendell wine he drank, a red stain on his fine satin tunic. 'I want my whore and I WANT HER NOW!'

Sam always hated when he shouted. There were days when Frodo could be as sweet and innocent as a maid on her wedding night, but there were others when he could become aggressive if something was to his dislike. This was one of those days. He always shouted when he was angry. And he always turned violent when he shouted.

Please gods, not on my face. Please, I've been good to lord Frodo, don't let him turn his rage on my face, please!

'Sam? My dear Sam, look at me' a sly smile was on Frodo's face, and with a gentle hand, he brushed Sam's cheek, as a man pets his dog. 'You've always been good to me, haven't you Sam? You've always been there for me... You've always been a good boy, haven't you?'

Fear struck on his face as he watched his master unbutton his breaches. His erect cock was out before Sam could muster any sound.

'Now Sam, let's see how deep is your Bag's End.'

>'What's your name, wench?' Faramir spoke gruffly.
>'Rosie Cotton, but most call me Rose, if it please m'lord' answered the stout hobbit female, if indeed a creature barely three feet tall could be called that. Faramir noticed that her skirt lambasted many crudely drawn floral motifs, such as they were. Still, it was tattered and its hems were dirty.
>'We had a name for those of your kind in Gondor, though I dare say they were not as diminutive, far from it, my dear bulbous rose', mused Faramir while a nasty grin bloomed across his face.
>'M'lord'?
>'We called them slam-sows, and you fit the type. If your cunt is accomodating enough, we can play enter-my-castle ere the day is done'. He started unclasping his sword belt.
>'But...Samwise -'
>...is only half a man. Time for you to ascertain the full length of your boundaries. Get in that grass hole like a good gopher, I don't have all day. That pointed-hat pederast is bound to come knocking before I finish...' The round door closed with a rusty whine, and soon grunts could be heard, as when a cumbersome lad straddles a pig on a dare.

Frodo rose from its chair. The suckling pig with 'taters and onions dipped in garlic juice laid restless on the silver plate, inlaid with gold. Sam rose with him, a curious look on his face.

'What's the matter lord Frodo? Is something a miss?'

'Where's that elf whore I was promised, Sam? I came here to jest and whore my last days away, and I'm out of jest already.' said Frodo, face red with the dark Rivendell wine he drank, a red stain on his fine satin tunic. 'I want my whore and I WANT HER NOW!'

Sam always hated when he shouted. There were days when Frodo could be as sweet and innocent as a maid on her wedding night, but there were others when he could become aggressive if something was to his dislike. This was one of those days. He always shouted when he was angry. And he always turned violent when he shouted.

Please gods, not on my face. Please, I've been good to lord Frodo, don't let him turn his rage on my face, please!

'Sam? My dear Sam, look at me' a sly smile was on Frodo's face, and with a gentle hand, he brushed Sam's cheek, as a man pets his dog. 'You've always been good to me, haven't you Sam? You've always been there for me... You've always been a good boy, haven't you?'

Fear struck on his face as he watched his master unbutton his breaches. His erect cock was out before Sam could muster any sound.

'Now Sam, let's see how deep is your Bag's End.'

>'What's your name, wench?' Faramir spoke gruffly.
>'Rosie Cotton, but most call me Rose, if it please m'lord' answered the stout hobbit female, if indeed a creature barely three feet tall could be called that. Faramir noticed that her skirt lambasted many crudely drawn floral motifs, such as they were. Still, it was tattered and its hems were dirty.
>'We had a name for those of your kind in Gondor, though I dare say they were not as diminutive, far from it, my dear bulbous rose', mused Faramir while a nasty grin bloomed across his face.
>'M'lord'?
>'We called them slam-sows, and you fit the type. If your cunt is accomodating enough, we can play enter-my-castle ere the day is done'. He started unclasping his sword belt.
>'But...Samwise -'
>...is only half a man. Time for you to ascertain the full length of your boundaries. Get in that grass hole like a good gopher, I don't have all day. That pointed-hat pederast is bound to come knocking before I finish...' The round door closed with a rusty whine, and soon grunts could be heard, as when a cumbersome lad straddles a pig on a dare.

>The more she drank the more she shat, but the more she shat, the thirstier she grew.

Bravo, Martin.

>a-at least the books were good though
"No!"
The writing is dreadful; the book was terrible. As I read, I noticed that every time a character went for a finishing blow, the author wrote instead that the character "put all his weight into his sword"

I began marking on the back of an envelope every time that phrase was repeated. I stopped only after I had marked the envelope several dozen times. I was incredulous. Martin’s mind is so governed by cliches and dead metaphors that he has no other style of writing. Later I read a lavish, loving review of A Song of Ice and Fire by the same Stephen King. He wrote something to the effect of, "If these kids are reading Game of Thrones at 11 or 12, then when they get older they will go on to read Stephen King." And he was quite right. He was not being ironic. When you read "A Song of Ice and Fire" you are, in fact, trained to read Stephen King.

>The American Tolkien

Why do people use this phrase when it's clear he's far greater than Tolkien?

I've already pretty much completely forgotten what happened despite reading the series twice. By the time The Winds of Winter comes out I'm going to have to re-read the series all over again. Not to mention A Dream of Spring which is looking like a long-shot at this point unless George is one of those fatties who miraculously lives longer than they're supposed to. I think divvying up AfoC and ADwD was a huge mistake and his editor should have been on him for that instead of letting him do it.

>>10300208
I think we have both learned from this exchange.

>And suddenly his cock was out, jutting upward from his breeches like a fat pink mast.

>>10013893

I think I will pass on that desu senpai

"Ah, ha ha, *munch, munch* ol' J.R.R., didn't, ah, see you come in! -burp- No please, please, [smack] sit down, sit down, there' something we, (pant) need to talk about. *farts* Heavens excuse me, oh ho! Well getting down to 'brass tacks' - or brass tax, I might say SNORT! - yes, well I was sitting, counting the money coming in from, slurp, my show - terribly taxing ah yes? - when the thought occurred me, watching that money from my award-winning show... [belch] from my, (siiippp) award, award, awar... sorry, I lost my breath, award-winning books, that I [chews] that I can't seem to recall you mentioning [more chewing] anything about Gondor's *blows nose* taxation policy. Surely I must have -releases one long wet smelly fart - missed it while glancing through the pages (cough). You did [scratches ballsack] say something about it, right? Sales tax? (sweats) Value-added tax? *licks lips* Don't just sta - oh my my heart - stand there my man, out with it! Surely the, the thought has crossed your mind?! -chuckles until accidental urination-"

>>9998740

He will never finish writing the books.

>Ruling is hard. This was maybe my answer to Tolkien, whom, as much as I admire him, I do quibble with. Lord of the Rings had a very medieval philosophy: that if the king was a good man, the land would prosper. We look at real history and it’s not that simple. Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles?