I just finished Perdido Street Station. My head hurts in a great way, and my soul's got that burden of feeling a bit dirtier and fatigued after finishing a really enjoyable, if somewhat difficult book.
During cleanup, I had the good fortune of sitting around a table with Wildchild, Playground, HazMatt and Big Spoon after some of the best Shepherd's
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I don't really finish a book until it's been completely, throughly ratted. Then I'll finish reading the book.
The flipside of this is that I never get any money when I try to resell my books. Figures. But, really... books are living, wearable art in the sense that they get integrated into one's life during the time that they are being read. And who says art has to be flawless and perfectly clean? Art that moves is not perfect art.
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Also, I have a deep reverence for books in general. Too many people have died throughout History over the abstract concept of printed/written word
A dead book is recycled and replaced.
Infected books stay away from the rest of the books.
Etc.
So as 'visceral' as I am, it's a scale not all will find too different from 'courtly.'
Interesting words...
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My philosophy books? Different story. Some of them are literally falling apart, but I can't replace them because they are filled with notes and marginalia. This is why I'm really looking forward to the next generation of e-books. Search, annotations, cross-references: these are all things a scholar needs, and squished dead trees aren't getting the job done.
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