Author of a forthcoming literary fantasy series; college student
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Could an unknown 21-year-old Oxford student named Samantha Shannon be the next J. K. Rowling? Three years ago, Shannon was an intern in the office of the prestigious London literary agent David Godwin. That experience came in handy when, less than a year later, she had a manuscript for “The Bone Season,” an ambitious novel, the first of a projected seven-part series, that she had somehow written between lectures. Blown away by the book’s inventiveness, Godwin promptly sent it to the editor in chief of Bloomsbury, Alexandra Pringle. “Seven hours later I was still reading it,” Pringle recalls. “I just fell completely in love.” Bloomsbury gave Shannon a six-figure advance for the first three books, an unprecedented show of support for such an untested first-time author. “The Bone Season,” which comes out in August, is about a 19-year-old clairvoyant named Paige Mahoney, who roams the streets of London, circa 2059, until the secret police send her off to a penal colony that looks a lot like Oxford. “Her imagination is so extraordinary,” Pringle says. “She reminds me of the Bront sisters — the world she’s created is absolutely real.” Book rights have sold in 18 countries, and three major studios fought over the movie rights. (Britain’s Imaginarium Studios beat out Hollywood.) Shannon, now in her last year at college, is juggling writing with her studies like she did for the first book. “I had to cut down on going out with my friends so I could squeeze in writing chapters,” she says. “There was a lot of coffee involved.”
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OC Poem thread
>post OC, maybe add some context to your work
>comment / critique others
>pic meant to grab your attention; otherwise unrelated
I'll start. I don't really write creatively much but I wrote this poem earlier today. I wanted to write something short and simple with a well-known theme, common language, and simple rhyme and syllable structure. I wrote about how summer goes too fast, and this is sort of a metaphor for life. Nothing fancy; I hope you enjoy it.
Days go by
'n weeks've passed
'n I was a fool to think it'd last
It's August now
and summer's cashed
'n I'm wonderin' why it goes so fast
Like today was June
day after's August
September's just shy
I guess I've still
some days to live
I could prob'ly milk
a few more hits
I'm summer's bitch
Cuz if it ain't warm,
I ain't doin' shit!
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Is there anything that removes highlighter pen without damaging the pages? They are all glossy pages, and not those thin porous paperback pages.
I bought a used copy of On The Bus, and every section by Ken Kesey, Hunter Thompson, William Burroughs, and Allen Ginsberg has been highlighted.
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"His hiding place would have been dark by ordinary light. But to his infrared-sensitive vision, a vague twilight glow suffused the pipe. He saw the body of von Grossen, and laid his new victim beside it. Carefully, then, he inserted one of his wiry hands into his own breast, removed a precious egg, and deposited it into the stomach of the human being.
The man was still struggling, but Ixtl waited for what he knew must happen. Slowly, the body began to stiffen. The muscles grew progressively rigid. In panic, the man squirmed and jerked as he evidently recognized that paralysis was creeping over him. Remorselessly, Ixtl held him down until the chemical action was completed. In the end, the man lay motionless, every muscle rigid. His eyes were open and staring. There was sweat on his face.
Within hours, the eggs would be hatching inside each man's stomach. Swiftly, the tiny replicas of himself would eat themselves to full size, Satisfied, Ixtl darted up out of the hold. He needed more hatching places for his eggs, more guuls."
- A.E.Van Vogt, "Voyage of the Space Beagle", 1950
bravo, Ridley Scott.
Hegel and Kierkegaard
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help me understand Hegel and his Phenomenology. From what I understand, Hegel believes that a binary way of thinking leads rise to many issues - contradictions and oppositions.
That we can only be either in a room or not in a room, that we can only exist in matter, or not in matter, that we can only be man, or divine - but not both simultaneously.
And so it is this seemingly binary way of thinking (either/or) that prevents us from understanding reality as it truly is. It is therefore because of this that his work is titled Phenomenology - etymologically an appearance of sorts.
How do we get past this barrier? Well, he says, our normal reasoning/consciousness prevents this because it simply focuses on ordering the world by breaking it down and organizing it. But, once it reduces it down enough, it gets stuck. Here enters speculative philosophy, pure thinking, or what have you. Its goal is to absolutely and truly understand reality. And how does it understand? By getting rid of the binary way of thinking. It is this binary way of thinking that is flawed. This starting point shows us to a dead end because it is a bad starting point. And so when we start off on the right path, with the help of speculative philosophy, we can truly understand reality.
Does this seem like an accurate summary of Hegel, more or less?
Another question. Kierkegaard responds to Hegel in numerous texts. While I have not read his Either/Or, is this the exact issue he is addressing? This Hegelian view that an "Either/Or" way of thinking is inherently incompatible with the understanding of reality?
I know it is in his Postcript (at least, in book II) that he does address the problem of speculative philosophy in trying to understand the world objectively. And from what I understand, what Kierkegaard is saying there is that it is impossible to understand reality in its totality because we are stuck in subjective minds and we will always, in one way or another, be subjectively skewed.
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Okay I'm at the end of my rope. I've been trying for like a year to find this goddamn short story by Sammuel Beckett. No idea if it's true or not it's a story of him interviewing Franz Kafka. It starts out with him describing how he always just misses interviews with him, and how it's gotten to a point where he knows so much about Kafka he feels he doesn't even need to interview him but does it out of principle anyway. They meet at a restaurant, Beckett orders everything on the menu, eats it all, then proceeds to berate Kafka about all of the things he knows about him. It ends with Becket throwing up all over Kafka. Google-fu isn't working, help me please.
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>I'm a failed poet. Maybe every novelist wants to write poetry first, finds he can't, and then tries the short story, which is the most demanding form after poetry. And, failing at that, only then does he take up novel writing.
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Hey, fellow /lit/erati. I just wrote a poem. What do you guys think of it?
I feel I just saw the monster,
10 foot tall, in all its grandeur.
Oh, it frightened; it had me whimper.
What does this ghoul want?
It approached me with heavy steps.
The steps had the ground tremble;
It was an earthquake.
I screamed, “What do you want?”
I backed myself to a corner,
Took solace in the tight space.
What protection better,
Than a claustrophobic hole?
I was panicked.
It came to me, leaned in;
Its eyes were square with mine.
Its breathing heavy—
Shivers were sent down my spine
I yelped, “What do you want from me?”
The monster was terse;
It knew just what to say.
The ghoul had me;
I was right where it wanted.
With a whisper,
A sinistrial, violent whisper,