What a good looking book. The introductions are great sources that look at the revisions and censorship of the novel by its various publishers.
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What a good looking book. The introductions are great sources that look at the revisions and censorship of the novel by its various publishers.
bailedThis book really fascinated me and I learned a lot; however, by page 315 I had lost all my steam and interest. I may come back to this and read the last four chapters.
To anyone else reading this, don't give up like I did. It's a really interesting story!
pickI watched the movie first, and I thought the movie adaptation was different in just the right ways. I do have to say I liked the movie better for certain scenes; however, the book is beautiful and absolutely worth the read. It made my little gay heart melt.
I try not to change, but I keep changing, in all these tiny ways. I get a girlfriend. I have a beer. And every freaking time, I have to reintroduce myself to the universe all over again.
This was a nice easy read. An inspiring story. After reading it I just had to try the best coffee in the world for myself! Also Huey loved the green uncorrected proof's cover!
But years later they seemed to remember those tender mercies as clearly as the horrific scenes they had survived, as if they were somehow imbued with equal power.
Finally sitting down to read this novel, after years of only getting excerpts for creative writing classes.
pickThis book left me longing, deeply saddened, and somehow optimistic. Aciman's prose is wonderful. Elio's voice was naive and insightful, profound yet fickle, but always mesmerizing. As a teenager, I remember the constant introspection, suppressing desires, the self doubt, and the overwhelming feeling of longing that I'm sure most young gay men experience: this book captured that for me. It tore me apart, but I loved every second of it.
...the person I know no one knows I am; who I am when I crave to be naked with another naked body, or when I crave to be alone in the world; who I am when every part of me seems miles and centuries apart and each swears it bears my name.
I have this stack of uncorrected proofs from work begging to be read. I really need to step up my game and get through some books!
pickLe Guin has a masterful way of writing that brings her far flung worlds of strange aliens and customs into the realm of familiar experience. Her prose is striking and poetic. I read this after The Word for World is Forest, and I can't wait to read more of the Hainish novels.
I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plow land in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one's country; is it hate of one's uncountry? Then it's not a good thing... Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre, but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate.
No, I don't mean love, when I say patriotism. I mean fear. Fear of the other. Ands it's expressions are political, not poetical: hate, rivalry, aggression. It grows in us, that fear. It grows in us year by year. We've followed our road too far.
pickSatrapi's graphic memoir navigates the complicated history of Iran's Islamic Revolution with the ease, candor, and insight only a child can provide. What a deeply heart wrenching story. Please read and reread this forever.
This is a great alternate history thriller that really kept me engaged and reading. I loved it, but wish it took a more anti imperialist stance. I can only imagine the horror of the British empire imposing colonial rule on entire universes.
The lust for power can be just as completely satisfied by suggesting people into loving their servitude as by flogging and kicking them into obedience. In other words, I feel that the nightmare of Nineteen Eighty-Four is destined to modulate into the nightmare of a world having more resemblance to that which I imagined in Brave New World.
-Letter to George Orwell, 1949
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain. What did the words exactly mean? He only half knew. But their magic was strong and went on rumbling in his head, and somehow it was as though he had never really hated Popé before; never really hated him because he had never been able to say how much he hated him. But now he had these words, these words like drums and singing and magic.
Words can be like X-rays, if you use them properly--they'll go through anything. You read and you're pierced.
On their backs were vermiculite patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
First time reading a Y.A. novel in a very long time, glad I did though! Give me more queer historical fiction please!
Just finished the authors preferred text! Someday I'll go back and read the original text, but for now I'll just binge watch the Starz series.
Neanderthals were extremely similar to modern humans; probably they were our very closest relatives. And yet clearly they were not humans. Somewhere in our DNA must lie the key mutations (or, more probably, mutations) that set us apart--the mutations that make us the sort of creature that could wipe out its nearest relative, then dig up its bones and reassemble it's genome.
On some other world, possibly it is different. Better. There are clear good and evil alternatives. Not these obscure admixtures, these blends, with no proper tool by which to untangle the components.
We do not have the ideal world, such as we would like, where morality is easy because cognition is easy. Where one can do right with no effort because he can detect the obvious.
