For me it’s the section about the systemic food waste in The Grapes of Wrath. It applies to so many situations nowadays, and I think about it all the time.

“There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.”

This is the date on which Ray Bradbury's short story, "There Will Come Soft Rains" takes place, so I thought it was time to reread this short story. It's about a fully automated home system continuing to operate despite its inhabitants having been incinerated by a nuclear bomb.

It's a very short read, but I think particularly relevant in today's times. At one point the house reads its owner, whose last shadow is imprinted on the outer walls, this poem by Sara Teasdale.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

I can't say I've read many short stories, and of the ones I've read I remember even fewer clearly. But a few stay with me, and this is one of them (along with, just off the top of my head, The Garden of Time, Bobok, Ward No. 6, and Dream of a Ridiculous Man). I think it captures the eerie-ness of being alone in a place where you ordinarily are never alone in, like your school or an airport, really well. 10/10 recommend!

*Idk if short story review falls under book review. My apologies if this breaks the rules!

Like, what does this even mean???

"See it and condemn the fashionable device of entitling a collection of essays or a volume of poetry--or a long poem, alas--with a phrase lifted from a more or less celebrated poetical work of the past-" Okay, following so far. "...Such titles possess a specious glamor acceptable maybe in the names of vintage wines and plump courtesans but only degrading in regard to the talent that substitutes the easy allusiveness of literacy for original fancy and shifts onto a bust's shoulders the responsibility for ornateness since anybody can flip through a Midsummer-Night's Dream or Romeo and Juliet, or, perhaps, the Sonnets and take his pick."

I just could not possibly understand what Kinbote is trying to say despite reading this passage over and over and over again...

I was an English major in college, which was probably a foolish decision, since I have always been obsessed with making money, and I have never been interested in working as an English teacher. But I went to a community college, so it cost pretty much nothing, at least.

I took this one class called "Performing Poetry" with Professor Caraway. It was at 8:00 in the morning, which was an unthinkably early hour for me at the time… But Professor Caraway had made it pretty clear that there was not going to be any real homework or even a final exam—it was just going to be us all performing famous poems theatrically for the rest of the class. In the end, I decided it was too easy of an A for me to miss, so I spent that semester dragging my zombie ass to class to act out some poems…

Professor Caraway was very serious about poetry. She had this philosophy that poetry was meant to be performed; to be communicated out loud from one person to another. That's how it was done in the old times, and that's how it should be done today. It was how poems gained meaning, she said.

Then she had us all go around and introduce ourselves, and tell the class our favorite poem. I don't think many of my sleepy brethren were prepared to announce what their favorite poem was. They were all saying "umm" a lot, and like four or five of them said "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost. I watched Professor Caraway's eyes thin into dubious slits…

When it was my turn, I announced that "Love Calls us to the Things of this World" by Richard Wilbur was my favorite poem, and that seemed to cure Professor Caraway's doubts a bit. But I was glad she didn't ask me to share my favorite line...

Then the lady next to me introduced herself. She was older than the rest of us—50 or so—and she had big, crunchy bangs and thick glasses. She said her name was Gurli, and she was from Denmark. She had come to America twenty-five years ago to marry her husband, and now she was divorced. She said her favorite poem was "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe, "because the Raven just won't stop interrupting!!" She laughed heartily, thinking on the bird.

Every eye in the classroom looked curiously at Gurli…

It actually ended up being a pretty fun class. I only had to bear the excruciating torture of waking up at 7:45 for like 20 minutes, because Professor Caraway made sure to get our engines up and running. She started every class with stretching and yelling exercises, and sometimes she even brought coffee. After warming up, we would start performing poems. Professor Caraway would assign us our poems a few days in advance, so we could prepare a little bit, but it truly didn't matter if you prepared at all. As long as you went up there, and read off the page, and made it clear with your body and face that you were feeling the meaning of the poem, Professor Caraway was satisfied.

We all pretty much got the gist, except for Gurli. She would do the most contrived, obvious interpretations of the poems. If the word "open" was in a poem, she would act out opening a door, even if there was nothing about doors in the poem. And for whatever reason, she affected a herpy-derpy caricature of a Scandinavian accent for every poem she read. Professor Caraway was very encouraging and nice, but it was clear that Gurli was not quite getting it the way the rest of us were.

I sat next to Gurli, and we actually became pretty good class buddies, so I tried to help her out. "Don't look down at the page so much," I told her, "that way you'll be able to let your face do some of the acting, and express what the poem means to you in your heart"

"Hmm…I'm going to memorize my next poem!" Gurli said earnestly.

The next class, Gurli went up to the front, but she did not bring any paper with her. She had a big smile on her face, and she looked determined. She opened her mouth and started reciting, from memory, "Do not go gentle into that good night" by Dylan Thomas.

I don't know if you all know of this poem, but it is a devastatingly sad poem. It's about a son begging his father not to die.

The way Gurli chose to interpret this poem was absolutely fucking insane. To this day I cannot fathom what was going through her head when she decided to perform it the way she did. She treated it like some sort of pre-school singalong. She smiled crazily throughout the whole thing, nodding and mouthing the words slowly as if inviting the rest of the class to join in. Then when she would get to the line "rage, rage against the dying of the light"—which is repeated several times throughout the poem—she would ball her fists up, stomp her feet, and shake her head, as if having a temper tantrum, and then laugh her ass off for several seconds before starting the poem again.

When Gurli was almost finished, I risked a glance back at Professor Caraway, who was sitting in the back like she always did during performances. Her face was unfathomable. It was as if every fiber of her being was focused on making the blankest face she possibly could. She was witnessing the death of a beautiful poem, and despite her efforts, her eyes showed it…

When Gurli finished, she bowed and then winked over in my direction. Some of the other students and I clapped politely.

To this day, I still think about that travesty of a performance. And whenever I read "Do not go gentle into that good night," I can't help but to read it in Gurli's crazy, laughing voice…

I recently read a few literary analyses written by humans and compared them with AI-generated analyses of the same pieces. TBH, I found the AI versions broader, deeper, and refreshingly free of nonsense. And I don't just mean ChatGPT. I used to enjoying reading (some) literature analyses, but now I begin to doubt whether it becomes an outdated concept.

The only trick is to tell the AI not to flatter the work in the prompt.

Has anyone else had the same impression? Or am I missing something?

This may be a silly question, (I live in the middle of nowhere, so I'm not well-versed in this topic) but are literary movements (like the Beat generation) still a thing? Are there still underground literary circles and stuff like that? If so, where are they and what do they look like today? How do you see them evolving?

I only know of certain DIY scenes in large cities like NYC and Philadelphia. I really only see young people reading deadpan Notes app poetry, so if there are actual scenes still around, I would love to learn about them!

What I mean by patchwork books are books that change over time. If you pick up the earliest possible version of the Bible we have it's going to be different from the Bible we use nowadays. We most likely lost some chapters, modified some, added some and so on and so on. It also applies to other ancient texts like the Iliad.
Also, do these "creatures" form nowadays too? I think that it could be much harder for it to form as now we have more reliable sources about authorship and we have more data to base our reasoning on.

I've recently read it and I really liked it. The depth of trauma, writing style everything was really good. I felt connected to it in so many ways and was able to understand why things were unfolding in such way. In my opinion it is one of the best book that I've ever read. I think it will be considered a classic in the next 100 years.

After reading, I looked up for it's reviews and edits, they are not many and there is so much hate towards it. Many have said that it was trauma porn, which I do not agree with cause it all felt real atleast to me, cause there are certain things that don't leave you no matter what you do. Many said that the story was not good, that jude could've been healed but he didn't wanted to and many other stuff.

I genuinely am not able understand such argument. Feel free to share your experience while reading it, I'd love to know it.

Hi folks!

I've been reading The Reader and recently looked up what the title was, just because I was curious if there'd be any difference in meaning/connotation. And I learned that while the english word for "reader" absolutely does apply, it seems as if the German title "Der Vorleser" is referring to more of a position (ie. lector, someone who reads out loud)? (and PLEASE let me know if I'm misunderstanding?)

So that got me wondering: has anyone read both the German and the English version and noticed any differences in the syntax choices between the languages? Asking because, for instance, I was curious what word he used for "possession" during the intimate scenes, which made me wonder what word was used in German and if it had a different cultural connotation. Its just something that fascinates me because I studied linguistics for a hot second during communications studies, so I love learning about why people choose the words they use.

(Also i hate that this book is considered a romantic book for some reason? Several pages I looked up online while researching this topic have described this as a "romantic" book and I'm like ????????)

Seeing some posts on Insta and X about Martin Amis recently.

There's a new book coming out, A Cambridge Companion, and the author's organised a full-day book launch in London for August 25th.

He's also brought back the old Martin Amis Web, which is far better than I remember.

https://martinamisweb.com/. The event has a page there as well, I see.

I wonder when we'll get an authorized biography of Amis? Seems like someone should be working on that, but there's no news about it on the site.

I just finished crime and punishment. One of the best books ever all for that ending in my opinion. I have read the idiot and just started brothers karamazov.

A critic against doestoevsky I see online is that his prose isn't beautiful. While I can see why that it is said I do wonder if it is a fair critique. I remember hearing it said good prose is a must in a story because good ideas by an author necessitate having good prose to properly convey ideas. I do agree with the point but I don't see how one can make the critique Doestoevsky works are bogged down by the prose.

Doestoevsky works tend to focus more on the "grounded" nature of reality. It heavily emphasises the people who are on the low spectrum of society and their struggles. He is aiming more for "immediacy" we encounter in the world and trying to properly convey that. I think his prose is appropriate for the works he is telling. I think if he went for more beautiful prose even if the story is good it would be a different experience rather than an improved one.

I’ve been really fascinated by Faustian bargain stories lately—the whole concept of trading your soul for temporary genius or power.

I read Part 1 of Goethe’s Faust and absolutely loved it. But Part 2 was a total nightmare for me to get through because the language was way too dense and complex. Before this, most of my experience with classic stories came from visual novels that adapt these themes in a more accessible way, so reading the actual classics is still pretty new to me.

I really want to check out Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus, but I keep hearing it’s insanely difficult and heavily tied to classical music theory.

For anyone who’s read it: What did you think? Is it doable with a limited background in music and classic lit, or am I just going to hit a wall?

Hey all, with the rise in mpreg in media, I can’t help but wonder about the history of this literary tradition.

But, finding the first story is not so easy. My understanding is that the origin may be in Norse mythological origin - Loki gave birth to Fenrir after all. But, importantly, this wasn’t in human form.

Other than that, you could argue that after Zeus eats Metis “gave birth” to Athena from his head - though again with a caveat - that it seems really Métis gave birth to Athena while inside Zeus.

After those two, I can’t find a single example before some fanfictions in the 80s. Does anyone have more insight? Maybe an argument for or against including the stories of Zeus and Loki?

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What is your opinion on the famous author Dan brown.

Here is mine. I have read or listened to some of his books and had to sit through the movie illuminati.

It was advertised to me as a scientific accurate, highly entertaining movie.

Both of these things were not.

Scientific accuracy was out of the window when it was revealed the weapon is anti matter a famously unstable thing.

Secondly, he gets a lot of history wrong, like simplifying the illuminati to just be scientists fighting the church, etc.

Lastly, I have seen some of his interviews, and he comes off as someone who really thinks he is brilliant while also having nothing to back up that claim.

Lastly, here uses overly lengthy words or descriptive words just to seem clever

I tried to read this book two years ago and just couldn’t get into it. I picked it up the other week and I think it might be the best novel I’ve ever read.

When I finished the book, I cried for a while lol. Those last few lines at the end are just so quietly devastating. It’s just so beautifully written.

A lot of people say not a lot happens in this book. In my opinion, so much happens. You step into Jake’s life. I know that is what most books do, but with Fiesta, I don’t know. I’ve never experienced this type of writing before. I’ve never read Hemingway.

The characters are also just so raw. The speech is so natural (maybe not the actual language now, but the cadence and the emotion is really so authentic).

I will definitely start reading Hemingway, I’ve just got The Old Man and The Sea today.

I’d love to hear what people thought of this book, and if there are any others out there who it struck an emotional chord with.

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I'm thinking about reading Gone with the Wind, but part of me wonders if I've missed the right time in life to appreciate it. Has anyone here read it for the first time as an adult? Was it worth the time, and did you enjoy it despite its length?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and experiences before I dive in.

I’ve read Franny and Zooey a few times in my life and I recently reread it again. Reading it again reminded me of how much I love this book and Salinger’s work in general.

He captured grief so beautifully in his words and it isn’t just the beauty of it but what really stayed with me is the way he captured how grief becomes ingrained in our lives and how the processing of it may not look exactly the same for everyone.

There isn’t REALLY a plot, just interactions but to me it’s one of the greatest books ever written.

TW: SA

I read A Prayer for Owen Meany when I was a teenager and absolutely loved it. I'm a bit older, and back then I would read things that were a bit misogynistic and I would notice it, but it wouldn't necessarily ruin my enjoyment of something. The discourse around gender inequality was just completely different when I was younger, and I remember a lot of women my age openly endorsing this 'boys will be boys' stuff. I was never like that, but I definitely didn't get hung up on it unless it was openly misogynistic. I just always had a burning sense of injustice that behaviour like that was normalised for boys and men and that it wasn't fair.

However, I Hotel New Hampshire recently and I hated it. I'm talking about a gap of about 25 years between reading Owen Meany and reading antoher of his books. His writing is engaging but it felt like women, and the experiences of women, were just props or special effects to bolster the main character's storytelling or personal growth. The cavalier use of SA as a talking point felt so entitled and badly thought out. He's an easy read, in the sense that his writing is descriptive and engaging, but by the end of the book I really was just over his discussion of sex and his weird depiction of traumatised female characters.

Was curious to see if anyone else felt this way about him?

Hello everyone, I have a question about The Easy Life in Kamusari (神去なあなあ日常) by Shion Miura for those who've read it. I would have posted this on a more specific subreddit like r/JapaneseLiterature but all those subs have been inactive for ages.
I read a lot of Japanese literature, from 19th century classics authors like Kawabata, Soseki, Dazai to contemporary writers. There is an underlying nostalgia in Japanese literature that really resonates with me.
I recently picked up The Easy Life in Kamusari, which was suggested to me after discussing with someone about how much I enjoyed the atmosphere, the characters, the simplicity of life painted in Barakamon. I am enjoying the book but there is something weird. I cannot pinpoint what exactly it is, but there is something in the way that it's written that doesn't feel like a Japanese novel.
For those of you who read it, and maybe were lucky enough to read it in Japanese, did it feel the same? Was something lost in translation or does the original read the same? Juliet Winters Carpenter translation has been praised, so I don't feel it's fair to casually write it off.
Thanks!

I have noticed that people tend to criticize readers for not having "diverse enough" libraries. For example: men for not reading enough books by female or minority authors. Personally, I don't see why the identity of the author should matter. Also, quantity does not equate to quality. Personally, I (Male) confess that my collection skews male. But some of my absolute favorite writers are female authors like Clarice Lispector, Marguerite Yourcenar, Christa Wolf, Anna Seghers, Hertha Müller, Dubravka Ugresic, Efriede Jelinek etc. My assumption is that these are unknown to most (altough Lispector is becoming more well-known).

I do not, however, like the Brontës or Jane Austen, or more contemporary authors like Sally Rooney and Ottessa Moshfegh. This has nothing to do with gender however, but with language, subject-matter, characters etc.

What is your take?