/lit/ - Literature

>>20204742
>Barnes and Noble

>>17431076
*yawn*
this thread again

>>17424404
Oh great, baby is taking analysis I this semester.

>>17349049
You saw a naruto pic and assumed they fell for bait?
please leave

>>17322618
Cringiest post I’ve seen all day. Reconsider every single one of your beliefs.

>>15839779

>I don't want my kid to be gay
>So I'll turn them into a tranny

retarded post

>>14489496
>or at least Jewish

>her sex

>he reads political philosophy literature

Is there any bigger red flag to identify a pseudo-intellectual?

>>9029072
>EECS and math
>much of the same stuff

>>8726973
>>8726964
Wait, you people actually write in diaries?

>>8441633
>having fun

>>6679498
>His prose is mediocre

"‘So what's your idea of fun then, Ian?’ It was the woman diagonally opposite me, the one with the Agadir tan. For a half-second or more I thought I hadn't heard the question right but then she repeated it. ‘So what's your idea of fun then, Ian?’ It's often things like that that really claim my attention, the things that happen twice. The first time she said it, it sounded to me like, ‘So wus yernidee f'n, ‘n?’ Only the rise in pitch at the end indicated the interrogative. The second time, however, I took it in fully, I sopped up sound and import like intentional Kleenex. And then it pulped me – my idea of fun – took all my layers, my multi-ply selves, and wadded them into a damp mass. I sat there clutching the edge of the table, feeling the linen twist excruciatingly over the polished wood, with everything pushing together, melding inside of me.

Then Jane looked at me from across the table. Looked at me with her special look, the little moue that means total intimacy, total us-apart-from-the-world, and said, ‘Oh I don't think Ian has much of an idea of fun at the moment, the poor old sod's too bound up in his work.’ But by then the group conversation had passed on; someone further around the table – he'd been introduced to me when we arrived but it hadn't taken – was giving us the benefit of his idea of fun. As I remember it was crass in the extreme, utterly befitting his Silkience hair and onyx spectacle frames. You can imagine, all centred on nude teens, cocaine and a hotel suite in Acapulco. It was adman crap, slick-surface kicks for a magic-screen mentality. But I wasn't paying any, I was lost inside myself, caught up in my own horror show, my private view."

>>6663241
>History major

How

>reading 1200 consecutive pages of Stephen King