I’ve been reading Melville’s Moby Dick, which I’ve never read before. I have to say that I am enjoying it much more than I expected, even the long digressions on cetacean physiology and physiognomy. I’ve also got to admit that it is much funnier than I ever would have guessed.
Confession time: I've started Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (as everyone tells me just how great a piece of literature it is) and I just can't finish it. It's nonsense.
I think Heinlein was right; whatever the purpose of Russian fiction is, it can't possibly be for entertainment.
I dont know what my Brother Don -otherwise known as long-serving Heartland member Erudite- is doing; trying to pass this magnificent octopuss off as his own work: as something he may well have scribbled on the back of an old forbidden planet flyer (between a collossal booze-with-noodles shopping list and next monthhs comics wishlist) in black on black crayon, but this is blatantly no fan-fiction ! this is a PROPER BOOK! an actual novel! a tour-de-force not a turd-dy- farce....this has been wrote proper good in da Kween's Inglish...not Jack-a-nory or even Jock-an-'ory but ROCK-a-N-ory-ROLL motherfucker! come on Don - this is bona fide litter-a-chore innit? 'oo ya tryin' to kid!
EDIT: ignore the above this which was written by the late west-by-nor-north-mids-nowhere-kid, post account hacking (cough) brought about by the chimpan-Z-N-A vaccuum he misreadingly self-diagnosed. MR ERUDITE -only CAPS willl suffice- has written a fuckking awesome tome filled with red-hot sizzling gypsies and dark legends of of vileness and violins and vienetta (ok i lied about the ice-cream...& the gypsies). more please sir!
I dont know what my Brother Don -otherwise known as long-serving Heartland member Erudite- is doing; trying to pass this magnificent octopuss off as his own work: as something he may well have scribbled on the back of an old forbidden planet flyer (between a collossal booze-with-noodles shopping list and next monthhs comics wishlist) in black on black crayon, but this is blatantly no fan-fiction ! this is a PROPER BOOK! an actual novel! a tour-de-force not a turd-dy- farce....this has been wrote proper good in da Kween's Inglish...not Jack-a-nory or even Jock-an-'ory but ROCK-a-N-ory-ROLL motherfucker! come on Don - this is bona fide litter-a-chore innit? 'oo ya tryin' to kid!
EDIT: ignore the above this which was written by the late west-by-nor-north-mids-nowhere-kid, post account hacking (cough) brought about by the chimpan-Z-N-A vaccuum he misreadingly self-diagnosed. MR ERUDITE -only CAPS willl suffice- has written a fuckking awesome tome filled with red-hot sizzling gypsies and dark legends of of vileness and violins and vienetta (ok i lied about the ice-cream...& the gypsies). more please sir!
#WhizzWorldWecommends
Thanks, Lee.
I'd say you're too kind, but I'm willing to take all the praise/promotion I can get (and all I can't get too).
Funny story - back in the day when Debs (Madame Butterfly) bought the original way back in '03 and before we'd actually met, she asked if I was ex law enforcement!
Bartek wrote: ↑08 Apr 2021, 12:58
I've started to read Moby Dick few months ago.
Wasn't that bad, but I hadn't finished, I think i'll come back to this book, one day.
I think one of the genius things about it (and it took me a while to pick up on this) is the way the narrative reflects what life must actually be like on a whaling voyage - i.e., long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of extreme excitement. There also seems to be some sort of philosophical argument being advanced (thus all the references to Plato, Hobbes, Locke, etc.), but I'm merely reading it, not studying it, so I've no idea what's going on in that regard.
markfiend wrote: ↑08 Apr 2021, 13:17
Confession time: I've started Bulgakov's Master and Margarita (as everyone tells me just how great a piece of literature it is) and I just can't finish it. It's nonsense.
I think Heinlein was right; whatever the purpose of Russian fiction is, it can't possibly be for entertainment.
I read it many years ago, and I'd imagine it mostly flew over my head. I remember nothing about it. Heinlein is definitely right though: Russian fiction is not about entertaining. I recall seeing Darren Aronofsky introduce a screening of Requiem for a Dream by saying something like "this is a film about suffering, and you're going to suffer while watching it. When it's over, we'll have a long talk about why that suffering was good for you." I think there's something similar going on in a lot of the Russian stuff - especially, for example, Dostoevsky.
I guess differences come from culture, which has source with political system, history, thus mentality is away from western.
The same it's with Polish movies, it's hard to find purly entertainment in it, there's at least glimp of sadness, depression, helplessness, being broken, one tiny black hole sucking joy out of it.
Currently reading A Furious Devotion: the Authorized Biography of Shane MacGowan. It’s quite sad, actually - he comes off as a very talented but rather naive guy who was surrounded by people who had little to no interest in actually looking out for him when it started to go off the rails (Sinead O’Connor being the only possible exception).
Martin Kitchen: Europe Between the War. 2nd Edition
Sad to read that some issues wasn't really solved, like one that we're spinning around and circling with "the problem" with liberal democarcy. It's more scarry given current siutation and "Heroic restraint" [1] is what hold us back from takiego the right steps, and stand for values other than the shareholders one.
It's absolutely hilarious actually. Laugh-out-loud funny in places. You wouldn't think there was so much comedy potential in making a porno but there you go
