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I'm looking for a book or books on postmodern literature, historically, philosophically, etc. and I don't know where to start. Also looking for a postmodern version of The Hero With A Thousand Faces, some foundation work on postmodern story elements and construction. I thought I'd ask yall, you seem to like books.
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How come people always quote the difficult, obscure passages from Deleuze and Guattari, but nobody ever mentions some of the wonderfully inspirational passages? I wish I knew they included stuff like this before I started reading them:
>Write to the nth power, the n-1 power, write with slogans: Make rhizomes, not roots, never plant! Don't sow, grow offshoots! Don't be one or multiple, be multiplicities! Run lines, never plot a point! Speed turns the point into a line! Be quick, even when standing still! Line of chance, line of hips, line of flight. Don't bring out the General in you! Don't have just ideas, just have an idea. Have short-term ideas. Make maps, not photos or drawings. Be the Pink Panther and your loves will be like the wasp and the orchid, the cat and the baboon. As they say about old man river:
>He don't plat 'tatos
>Don't plant cotton
>Them that plants them is soon forgotten
>But old man river he just keeps rollin' along
I just thought that was beautiful, and I never see people talking about how great some passages from ATP are. So I decided to share.
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Interesting thread that someone showed me.
What do you think about writers who will do anything to be commercially successful?
Certainly some practical advice for people who want to be published and hope to become a commercial writer whose works sustain them.
As we all know though, TAO LIN, is the undisputed master of the techniques shown here.
Also, another example of an author who will do anything to be sell copies and has done quite well for it
Though, I had also read something similar in a magazine I was looking at, not Wired.
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Quick overview: I started my literary pursuits a few years ago with McCarthy (Pretty Horses, Blood Meridian, The Road, Sunset Limited) and have since branched out taking preference in theological/epistemological work with a temperament of nihilism (particular interest in Russian thought on both ends). I've since come back to McCarthy, in order to finish off The Boarder Trilogy and go over again some of the more memorable prose of Road and Meridian and I'm finding them now to be lessened of substance, almost as if McCarthy favors a pagan enriched nihilism as an aesthetic in one hand while shoving his cyclopean ego down your throat with the other through the abuse of pentateuchal style and now seemingly cheap tangents only placed to mystify the reader without point.
Now I love McCarthy, still some of the most amazing prose I've come across and I love how the characters and their dialogue are integral to the environment (a style I've only seen McCarthy put forth so cleanly) and you know the mans been writing for almost half a century but can someone please enlighten me as to whether some of the more blaring inadequacies in delivering an idea are because McCarthy is something you simply "outgrow" or am I over looking a crucial detail?
>started lit with McCarthy
>came back to McCarthy to find the substance lessened
Whats /lit/s thoughts on the man? The work? His literary intentions?
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The dusk was a bright indigo, and the kingfishers from the rivers and the lake sides wisped through the air, chasing the glow worms. And I laid there, fishing, abiding my time away under the multitude of stars. I could sense the ease and smell the vigour, a breath of god in the air.
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Last night I was laying in my bed when you crawled in there with me.
You touched me the way you would, and I nibbled you the way I did.
I remember the taste most of all.
We would talk, but those memories faded the fastest.
You told me you were working again, it made me sad but I thought I had no say anymore.
It was then I realized I had originally requested you, but those pretenses vanished quickly after we were together.
Lust and passion feel different in dreams.
You didn't always look like you, and neither did I, but it was us.
When I woke up I felt my mind was kind to me that night.