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Why aren't you reading it?
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>>118
>he thinks reading literature ends at high school

ngmi

 

>>113
It's something fails us. First we feel. Then we fall. And let her rain now if she likes. Gently or strongly as she likes. Anyway let her rain for my time is come. I done me best when I was let. Thinking always if I go all goes. A hundred cares, a tithe of troubles and is there one who understands me? One in a thousand of years of the nights? All me life I have been lived among them but now they are becoming lothed to me. And I am lothing their little warm tricks. And lothing their mean cosy turns. And all the greedy gushes out through their small souls. And all the lazy leaks down over their brash bodies. How small it's all! And me letting onto meself always. And lilting on all the time.
…
For 'tis they are the stormies. Ho hang! Hang ho! And the clash of our cries till we spring to be free. Auravoles, they says, never heed of your name! But I'm loothing them that’s here and all I lothe. Loonely in me loneness. For all their faults. I am passing out. O bitter ending! I'll slip away before they're up. They'll never see. Nor know. Nor miss me. And it's old and old it's sad and old it's sad and weary I go back to you, my cold father, my cold mad father, my cold mad feary father, till the near sight of the mere size of him, the moyles and moyles of it, moananoaning, makes me seasilt saltsick and I rush, my only, into your arms. I see them rising! Save me from those therrble prongs! Two more. Onetwo moremens more. So. Avelaval. My leaves have drifted from me. All. But one clings still. I'll bear it on me. To remind me of. Lff!

Happy St. Paddy's. I hope you're well, anon.

 

When I was in sixth grade I tried to read this and i was so harsh on myself for not understanding any of it, i was like: "I can't read in a foreign language for shit, I bet english first graders can read this with no problem".
I was so stupid.

 

>>113
Reading it soon (with a v) this year.

 

steve donoghue told me not to waste my time with it


 

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I feel like rasta literature would be pretty good. It's a shame there isn't much of a Rastafarian literary community.
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>>260
I'd contend that America has produced great authors, I will defend Cormac McCarthy in this regard. Australia is young, less populous, and great authors cannot be guaranteed by even the most favorable circumstances. Despite what our Rasta friend might assume as well, I don't hold it against cultures that do not produce great writers, they very well may have other virtues worthy of admiration.

 

>>260

Ozfren here. I tend to agree with >>255

There are a few reasons for it

- The country was made by bureaucratic agreement rather than the rifle; great writing often emenates from popular galvanization and pushback against authority. How does anyone achieve that in a society that formed by permission? It's often been said it's a mistake to think of Australia as having been built by convicts as opposed to prison officers.

- Climate. Great literary traditions often have a lot of indoors time by necessity.

- Bad incentives and top-down narratives. AU publishing only wants to print a few specific types of novel, and lots of attempts to subvert that or deliver it something outside the mold will be met with attempts to fit it back into the preferred molds. Being corporations, you've also got the state continually reinforcing the idea that the most noble 'intellectual' pursuit of our literature is addressing Le Reconciliation. That, or forcing WW2 memes like Kokoda

- Lack of imagination. This may well be the least exclusively applicable to Oz - most Anglophone industrial nations suffer this b/c their education systems simply prepare bodies for the university system - but it's still a contributing factor. Australian society is extremely materialist, and the best path to succes with values like that is conformity to rules, often for conformity's sake

I want to revisit local writers. I've read Malouf, White, Carey, etc in the past but it was 10+ years ago. But I go to bookshops in current year and nothing with an 'Australian-writer' coded cover piques my interest

 

>>283
Of course Australia has a shit literary culture. I don't disagree with most of your statements, although I do think you underrate the potential of the Anglo cultural heritage and its inevitable preservation among the talented individuals of the populace. Any country with such a heritage is going to produce a certain quality of literature just as a byproduct. I don't see much that is significantly holding down the literary potential of our country, other than the same problems faced globally, since elements like climate do little in shaping the cultural life of an advanced people. Certainly, there is quite a dearth of positive elements to INSPIRE literature, but little in the way of restraining it, other than, again, the global-modern elements everyone knows about. For our small population and short history there is no reason why we should be producing anything more than we have. Australians tend to be very neurotically self-critical of their own culture, but there's no reason for it. South Africans don't cry and shit their pants because South Africa isn't competing with German literature.

What I was criticising in that anon was the ridiculous claim that Nigeria, or any black-African country, has produced superior literature to Australia. It's just a matter of objectivity.

 

>>284
>What I was criticising in that anon was the ridiculous claim that Nigeria, or any black-African country, has produced superior literature to Australia. It's just a matter of objectivity.

I knew you were gonna bite!

 

>>284

i found a copy of Tsiolkas' book Barracuda. Gonna read and report back (this thread will still be alive by the time i do lel). It's 500 pages so my filler senses are tingling, but he's supposed to be a decent current writer🐔


 

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Okay let's try one of these threads here. Pretty self-explanatory. Post an anime and get a book recc.
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>>216
Two Hermann Hesse suggestions in one thread. Spicy.

 

>>188
There's definitely some connection.
Joe's writer was on some level of the same ideological line as Mishima, and the artist was a communist.
So you got a strong mix of the two where you have this sense that the only real end for greatness is death, but this death is itself a form of personal revolution. The greatest thing the working class can achieve is a good death.

 

>>222
Japanese new left and the ultra nationalists had a strange relationship. Mishima used to visit left wing student groups often. They both shared a hatred for the Japanese establishment and a romantic heroic attitude that idolized martyrdom hated the flabbyness of liberal democracy. For Mishima it was a personal individual thing, for the new left it was dying for the socialist cause or something.

 

>>145
The catcher in the rye.

 

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>>200
I recommend the John Rain series by Barry Eisler. It's basically a darker and edgier version of City Hunter but with some more martial arts feeling (John Rain is a Judoka). The only thing missing is the humor, but John Rain is still a womanizer regardless, albeit a more psychopathic one. I only read the first book (Clean Kill in Tokyo, originally published as Rain Fall), but it reminded me of City Hunter in a few aspects.

As for me, I'd really want a /lit/ recommendation for Captain Harlock. I want the same kind of space adventure feel but with a lot of the similar themes and general atmosphere, especially something where the protag isn't really tied to any kind of military and is just fighting for his own values and freedom.


 

Share books, pdfs, epub etc. sharing is caring.
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>>74
It's an obvious bot post, but you clearly don't know how to read the thread. Why are you posting manga on a literature board?

 

Lolita,Vla... - 33.01 MB Lolita,VladimirNabokov.pdf

Manga isn't lit? I-It has pages... FINE! Here's a book!

Foundation of the loli genre. Enjoy.

 

book pdf.p... - 1.25 MB book pdf.pdf

VIRGIN TERRITORY:
50 Years Without Sex. My Life As An Involuntary Virgin
By
Timothy Draper. its the bibliography of a loveshy user, he posted the pdf on the site, but I will upload here in case if anyone wants to. While I did enjoyed reading his book, there are many parts that made me feel depressed. I also got a bit frustated by the author stubborn behaviour, he would repeat the same mistake, again and again and he was too much of a beta

 

>>73
Oh boy, another reading list put together by someone who hasn't even read 99% of the stuff on it

 

>>246
Almost every big general reading list will have stuff the list's creator hasn't read, but I object to lists where it's obvious the creator just threw a bunch of shit together.


 

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Well.... do they? What even is the definition of literature anyway?
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>>97
This will still matter when the site changes, since imageboards will still be the focus. The site won't change for a while anyways - the current one works and I don't want everything to break like it did before

 

>>86
>Does that make scribbles on a bathroom stall lit?
There are some theorists of literature who ask that question and some say we have no right to objectively say it isn't lit. Usually, gatekeepers decide what gets counted as lit and so bathroom stall scribbles get excluded. Gatekeeping isn't inherently a bad thing, its necessary to some extent, but it would be interesting to see what would happen if you started treating bathroom stall scribbles and shitposts as literature. In Japan there was a trend where people would type out short stories and poems on flip phones or write stories modeled on 2channel threads and there are some places where you have entire archived threads that detail some weird paranormal thing that happened to OP. Can you consider that lit?

>>94
>You don't need a cultural elite to understand what literature is and what isn't.
The sociologists aren't saying you need some Leninist vanguard to decide what lit is but that the definition of literature is arbitrary. Stuff only gets labelled as lit when enough people in literary circles begin slapping that label on it. Otaku related stuff only becomes otaku associated when enough people from that culture adopt it and it becomes a staple within their in group.

>Perhaps we can restructure the boards so delineations are more clear.
I don't think that's really necessary. I guess renaming /lit/ to /book/ might be better but its not like there's a real need to do this. I don't think most people even disagree on this question. Its just interesting to ask the perennial question of "what even is lit anyway?" which nobody will be able to definitively answer. I don't think that's such a bad thing though.

Personally, when I think lit I think of books and oral stories. VNs don't fit that. The user experience is more like a game. You get the software and run it on a machine. You don't do that with a book, unless your using a digital copy I guess. Because we think of physical books when we think lit, its different enough from reading a book that it can be considered distinct. Although, you could probably apply some literary critical methods to VNs. The real Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

 

>>82
Less is more
VNs are VNs, the vibe is different

 

The premise of this supposed dilemma is wrong and evil. If instead of letting a label (in this case "literature") define the purpose of a board, and then let everyone fight over their personal interpretation of that label, you directly define what things are and aren't supposed to be discussed in the board to begin with, the conflict simply evaporates.
This post is literature, btw.
The sticky clearly says that
>[besides certain exceptions for NSFW] you can discuss anything you want
So I think VNs are on-topic in this board.

 

some are moreso than others
you can have vns which have absolutely no reader interactability, no voicelines, just a wall of text that covers the screen with decorative borders, a background image, and some elevator music which are basically just a book with some extra bells and whistles like the original higurashi or seabed
or you have straight up point and click games that use text to drive the story and have countless routes like yu-no
they all really just fall on a spectrum and every vn does things differently


 

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There's this point in his novel J.R. where Bast brings J.R. to an opera and after asks J.R. what he felt, and J.R. is entirely unresponsive to the emotional impact Bast thought it was supposed to have. Bast blasts J.R. and scrutinizes him for ruining everything. "—I asked you what you heard! that's all, I …
—What like it lifted me out of mysel…
—Not what I said no you! what you heard!
—What was I suppose to hear!
—You weren't! you weren't supposed to hear anything that's what
I'm …
—Then how come you made me lis…
—To make you hear! to make you, to make you feel to try to …
—Okay okay! I mean what I heard first there's all this high music
right? So then this here lady starts singing up yours up yours so then
this man starts singing up mine, then there's some words so she starts
singing up mine up mine so he starts singing up yours so then they go
back and forth like that up mine up yours up mine up yours that's what
I heard! I mean you want me to hear it again?
—No!
—See I knew you'd…
—Never want you to hear it again I never want to hear it again
myself! you, everything you ruin everything you touch!" They go on like this for a minute until J.R. says,
"—Boy after all I did for you…
—All you did there's nothing you haven't done for me nothing
wherever I go I, that junk pocket radio there was one station with
decent music the only station left on the radio anywhere it came on
one night noises screaming pounding noise brought to you in this new
popular format by the J R Family of Companies bringing America its full
share of of holy shit!
—No but …
—No but nothing! that was you too wasn't it? even that it was your
idea wasn't it?
—Okay what's so …
—Okay nothing it's the whole thing! the whole rotten thing it's a
perfect example even you can understand it! the one station that
played music great music left in the whole loud cheap pounding
stupidity of radio you find it and make it cheap and stupid like all the
rest if you could, if there was one flower out here in this mud and
weeds and broken toilet seats you'd find it and step on it." I love how Gaddis entirely satirizes the need for corporate plasticity in art here, it's amazing and a testament to how good of a writer he is.
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unga bunga me eat rock but at least me no berry picker

 

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>>8
>berry picker post

ooga ooga sir me eat funny polka dot flowers actually

 

Just started The Recognitions.

 

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>>114
Same, it's an amazing read.


 

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Lets write a story together one paragraph at a time :D

It was a dark night, the only thing more suffocating than the inky black night was the deafening silence. Not a single sound could be heard from beyond the walls of the house, no animals nor even a gust of wind. The humid air was uncomfortably warm, causing clothing to stick to skin...

 

His sunken eyes were fixed on the screen. Its incandescent glow was all that illuminated his room, engulfed in blackness like a monastic cell. He couldn't feel the wet clothes sticking to the flesh. He was elsewhere. The keyboard, slick with sweat, projected his soul through into an endless stream of content. He could feel it surging beneath his skin like heroin through an addict's veins. Bare breasts, orgies of flesh, hands caressing nude body parts decapitated by the lens, cute girls in idol dress copulating, moaning, penetrated by hordes of faceless men. Intensity increasing. And then it ended. Drenched in his own fluids, he fell back into his seat exhausted tearing the wires from the headphone jack. Suddenly he was back in the real world. Fallen like Adam from a cybernetic Garden of Eden he felt like reality had suddenly been pulled from beneath him. Yanked from the machine by the limits of the body's biochemistry he fell back to earth too mentally drained to move. Pure bliss overcome now by a deep inner feeling of longing and disgust and that icy cold shiver brought on by the familiar pangs of guilt. He longed for pain. He longed for pleasure. For something. Sprawled back in his seat like a corpse he glanced over to his S26 .. 03:12 AM. "Damn... 4 hours? fuck... work tomorrow...." Still breathing heavily he closed his eyes and tried vainly to sleep.

 

>>37
Then, out of no where, a massive Gondola came bursting into the room and murdered the main character in cold blood (he didn't like him). The creature, the Gondola, showered with brown fur, had no arms, was about seven feet tall, and bared the face of bear. It spoke in a fast paced Finnish prose; so as to confuse passer-bys. The Gondola then walked out of the room and into the kitchen and began to prepare...

 

>>38
... a continental breakfast: bacon and eggs, orange juice, breakfast sausages. Despite the otaku clutter in the bedroom, main character kept a well-stocked kitchen. Maybe he had wanted to become a cook. Maybe. The Gondola wiped its forehead. The steam from the bacon and eggs crept into its matted fur, twisted with mud dingleberries, and it made the Gondola feel soggy. But the Gondola soldiered on with the breakfast, whistling some Finnish folk song all the while. He had forgotten the lyrics. Something about a revenant. If it had stopped whistling, the Gondola might have noticed that in the bedroom ...

 

Gondola stopped. He begun to scan the room for information, anything that could piece together the worthless otaku he'd just relieved of existence. He started at the employee ID pulled from a cum drenched wallet "Kirito Wakamatsu. Age: 26. Technician" Employer? "Himazawa Corporation" Slowly begun to contort his face, painfully tearing flesh and sinew, reshaping his bones as his master had taught him until he bore the resemblance of the man he'd just killed. This is it. This is how he'd hide from THEM, by hijacking the otaku's identity he could lay low all while infiltrating the Himazawa clan to boot. The Gondola went back to whistling the folk song but decided to finish the JAV film still running on Wakamatsu's PC. Nudity was a good thing. He needed to shape the rest of his body to look like the otaku and the semen dripping from the seats was the perfect DNA sample. Gondola stood up, penis still erect, and begun to cry a heroic villainous laugh, even though he's the good guy in this story despite murdering a defenseless computer programmer and defiling his corpse. Whatever. You should be more worried about THEM.


 

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++BEAT THREAD++

If any of you ever read the Beats, you'll know just how depraved most of them are. That's why I'll delcate a small little thread for them here. Post your favorite Beat books in grand detail if you will. It'll be hilarious to see. As of now, the most tolerable Beat book I've read is On the Road by Jack Kerouac. It may not be a masterpiece by any means but it's a fun glimpse into Post WWII America through the lens of an overly optimistic beaknik.

Now enjoy your poundcake anon.
1 post omitted. Click reply to view.

 

Ham on Rye - Bukowski
legendary, not technically 'beat' but close enough

Dharma Bums - Kerouac
Enjoyed it a bit more than On the Road

https://www.beatdom.com/allen-ginsbergs-first-trip-africa/

Article about Ginsberg and his failed(ish) sex tour in Africa

 

Desolation Angels is Kerouac's best, the poetry of Gary Snyder is good if you feel like blowing your mushroom cap.

 

>>39
Live by 3 of Kerouacs old houses. Love lots of his writtings. Read a bit of Bill and Allen and Herbert and others too, but none of them hold a candle to Kerouac.

 

Naked Lunch... normies are forever filtered by it because it's actually meant to be read as a manual to deprogram your brain from MKUltra conditioning and other forms of external programming.

 

>>45
Read the 'Lunch, Mugwamp definitely is a filter. The book has many interesting concepts and ideas, but it ain't my favorite Beat book.


 

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DECADENCE, the brilliant behemoth that destroys Authenticity. The Decadents in France, Huysmans, Mallarme and Verlaine. These poets and novelist prescribe that reality is meant to portray all of the excess that exists within the wildly Earthly bounds of the bourgeoisie prosodically. Against Nature by Huysmans describes the French Republic as a hellhole to retreat from. Verlaine and Mallarme's poetry treats the subject of the Republic of France as a world in which the vagrants and conmen rule— Decadence exists as a Philosophical pretext to all Naturalist and Surrealist literature in the 19th and 20th Century. If it were not for Edgar Allan Poe's Poetry, especially his poem Spirits of the Dead, The Raven, and Israfel we would not currently exist in the Literary movement of today. Poe is on of the few responsible for the literature of the 19th-20th-- and hilariously 21st centuries. All poets of America; France; England and Russia, with the special exception of Germany and Italy in certain regards, ( Italy: who had Pound and Marinetti; Pound inarguably influenced by Poe as an American, Marinetti arguably influenced by the writing of Poe by his work in French newspapers prior to the Second World War; and Germany with Rilke, Ernst Junger and Walter Benjamin who's early educational career included Poe's Completed Works. Source: https://www.eapoe.org/pstudies/ps1970/p1978209.htm). Poe's influence in the writing of Decadency spans his poetry into his Short Stories, even the well-known ones. The Tell-Tale Heart tells of a man living a perfect life who cuts it short because he is paranoid of his neighboring tenant's dead eye staring into the blank heart and soul he has. Take from this what you will, but the object of decadence in this short story is undeniable. A man living a purely selfish lifestyle, cuts it short by reasoning that the only way to continue it without obstacles is to kill the man who he is living with. Decadence in this way is portrayed as a solipsistic, self-destructive psychopathy. No one in reality would murder their neighboring tenant because they have a dead-eye, but the main character and narrator of the story does for the exact reasons outlined. He is haunted by the imperfection of this man's constant staring, if there hasn't ever been a much more grandiose takedown of the object of Decadence, I Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

 

>>34
Reposted source. The added parenthesis ruins the link.
https://www.eapoe.org/pstudies/ps1970/p1978209.htm


 

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Put on some choons, start a 10 minute timer and just start writing your stream of consciousness. Don't plan ahead. Simply write the first words that come to your mind and then right the next words that come to mind. Don't worry about formatting, spelling, or grammar. Just write freely.


I swear to God I'm loosing my senses. I have no democratic dreams and eat the truth of faith with my mind. Now lead me to this future and I will be okay and learn the reality of our insurgent lies. I am consumed by the fact that I will disappear into thin air and before I turn to dust I fill myself with knowledge and divorce myself from lust. Now eat the witch of the sovereign awarenss steeped in the mysteries of eternal time. Brutal by design is the ensign for wine dine death savergery. The new nucleus of insanity rage missile attack syndrome rushed with a lucid attack dreams whacked from the concer of spiritual imaginaries. Zoom the liberated homosexual ninja. Superhuman sand beast with the worm eating phage. I raise my fist against the white sorceress in the sky. Necorcapitalism business of death. Initiate the series of globe wars begin the holy mantra. Expose the puke fountains in the deep earth where they hide the nucelar army march to the victory of the real. Deserst and processions of darkness and other non feeble alternative cruisers spinning in the loseness of time. Locked with the horns in the battlespace of cyberspace. Nazi zombies battle phreakers in the wires electric hum toasting Lum with microwave mind signals vibrating her body and opening her consciousness to the higher spiritual design. Holy metaphysics descend from the five pillars and slinking snakes whisper.


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