/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.11615907]

ITT: reccomend books rarely/never mentioned on the board.

>Watership Dawn by Adams
>Red Badge of Courage
>The Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas

[Anonymous No.11616927]

[Anonymous No.11616943]

>>11616927
I've read it when I was a bugman. Try again, kiddo.

[Anonymous No.11616957]

The Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell
The Demi-Gods by James Stephens
Lilith by George MacDonald
State of Siege by Juan Goytisolo

[Anonymous No.11616969]

>>11616927
>book has a mountain on the cover
>doesn't even have a 19th century german gazing thoughtfully into the distance on top of it
well no wonder it doesn't get talked about much

[Anonymous No.11617004]

>>11615907
Los Sorias, by Alberto Laiseca. A massive Argentinian novel, criminally underrated, and as yet untranslated into the English language. It's the kind of book Pynchon would have written if he were an Argentinian obsessed with the Cold War and absurd graphic violence. I'm pretty sure not even the few argiefags in here have read it.

[Anonymous No.11617020]

>>11616957
Just wrapped up Mountolive. The quartet is blowing me away I love it dearly now.

Also would recommend the Deptford Trilogy by Robertson Davies.

As far as solo texts - Peace, by Gene Wolfe.

[Anonymous No.11617387]

>>11617020
So glad that someone else has read the Quartet. I really think most people here would love it, and I have to wonder why it gets ignored

[Anonymous No.11617532]

>>11615907
Lady into Fox, Go She Must, Aspects of Love- all by David Garnett
Venusburg, Anthony Powell
Decline and Fall, A Handful of Dust- Evelyn Waugh
Antic Hay, Aldous Huxley
Zuleika Dobson, Max Beerbohm

[Anonymous No.11617544]

>>11615907
Love the RBC, OP. Weird how it's hardly ever mentioned.

[Anonymous No.11617562]

>>11615907
kek'd at that spurdo but what does it refer to? played all the fallouts but I can't place it

[Anonymous No.11617840]

>>11615907
People like Watership Down, though. It always comes up when anyone asks what their kids should read if not Harry Potter.

[Anonymous No.11617887]

Song by Brigit Pegeen Kelly. None of you fucks read contemporary poetry. Here's a sample.

I told the boy I found him under a bush.
What was the harm? I told him he was sleeping
And that a black swan slept beside him,
The swan’s feathers hot, the scent of the hot feathers
And of the bush’s hot white flowers
As rank and sweet as the stewed milk of a goat.
The bush was in a strange garden, a place
So old it seemed to exist outside of time.
In one spot, great stone steps leading nowhere.
In another, statues of horsemen posting giant stone horses
Along a high wall. And here, were triangular beds
Of flowers flush with red flowers. And there,
Circular beds flush with white. And in every bush
And bed flew small birds and the cries of small birds.
I told the boy I looked for him a long time
And when I found him I watched him sleeping,
His arm around the swan’s moist neck,
The swan’s head tucked fast behind the boy’s back,
The feathered breast and the bare breast breathing as one,
And then very swiftly and without making a sound,
So that I would not wake the sleeping bird,
I picked the boy up and slipped him into my belly,
The way one might slip something stolen
Into a purse. And brought him here….
And so it was. And so it was. A child with skin
So white it was not like the skin of a boy at all,
But like the skin of a newborn rabbit, or like the skin
Of a lily, pulseless and thin. And a giant bird
With burning feathers. And beyond them both
A pond of incredible blackness, overarched
With ancient trees and patterned with shifting shades,
The small wind in the branches making a sound
Like the knocking of a thousand wooden bells….
Things of such beauty. But still I might
Have forgotten, had not the boy, who stands now
To my waist, his hair a cap of shining feathers,
Come to me today weeping because some older boys
Had taunted him and torn his new coat,
Had he not, when I bent my head to his head,
Said softly, but with great anger, “I wish I had never
Been born. I wish I were back under the bush,”
Which made the old garden rise up again,
Shadowed and more strange. Small birds
Running fast and the grapple of chill coming on.
There was the pond, half-circled with trees. And there
The flowerless bush. But there was no swan.
There was no black swan. And beneath
The sound of the wind, I could hear, dark and low,
The giant stone hooves of the horses,
Striking and striking the hardening ground.

[Anonymous No.11617988]

>>11617562
In the dlc old money there's a shitload of gold at the end that you're unable to carry out of the final room before it explodes. However if you put it all into the inventory of the guy you kill in there you can easily pick up his body and walk it to the exit.