one day closer to death
July recs update this morning:
unfitforsociety has been updated with 40 recs for July 2007:
* 22 Supernatural
* 10 Harry Potter
* 6 Crossovers
* 2 Friday Night Lights & 1 Homicide: Life on the Street
Read, love, send feedback!
~*~
The latest brouhaha sent me scrambling for my copy of Absalom, Absalom, which is one of my favorite books of all time and my candidate for Greatest Novel Ever Written, and I was skimming for choice quotes last night, and I realized that this probably explains a lot about some of the stories I write. So I share with you:
Henry, the provincial, the clown almost, given to instinctive and violent action rather than to thinking, ratiocination, who may have been conscious that his fierce provincial's pride in his sister's virginity was a false quantity which must incorporate in itself an inability to endure in order to be precious, to exist, and so must depend upon its loss, absence, to have existed at all. In fact, perhaps this is the pure and perfect incest: the brother realising that the sister's virginity must be destroyed in order to have existed at all, taking that virginity in the person of the brother-in-law, the man whom he would be if he could become, metamorphose into, the lover, the husband; by whom he would be despoiled, choose for despoiler, if he could become, metamorphose into the sister, the mistress, the bride. (p. 76-77)
[...] as though it actually were the brother who had put the spell the sister, seduced her to his own vicarious image which walked and breathed with Bon's body. (p. 85)
It was because Bon not only loved Judith after his fashion but he loved Henry too and I believe in a deeper sense than merely after his fashion. Perhaps in his fatalism he loved Henry the better of the two, seeing perhaps in the sister merely the shadow, the woman vessel with which to consummate the love whose actual object was the youth. (p. 85-86)
Perhaps this year someone will write me some Quentin/Shreve or some Quentin/Caddy or maybe some Henry/(Judith)/Charles Bon for yuletide...
Speaking of unspoken hetcestuous desires, I must go back to my harlequin, now that it's not due today OMG. Snogging has been achieved! And I am only 5K words into the story. Sigh...
~*~
unfitforsociety has been updated with 40 recs for July 2007:
* 22 Supernatural
* 10 Harry Potter
* 6 Crossovers
* 2 Friday Night Lights & 1 Homicide: Life on the Street
Read, love, send feedback!
~*~
The latest brouhaha sent me scrambling for my copy of Absalom, Absalom, which is one of my favorite books of all time and my candidate for Greatest Novel Ever Written, and I was skimming for choice quotes last night, and I realized that this probably explains a lot about some of the stories I write. So I share with you:
Henry, the provincial, the clown almost, given to instinctive and violent action rather than to thinking, ratiocination, who may have been conscious that his fierce provincial's pride in his sister's virginity was a false quantity which must incorporate in itself an inability to endure in order to be precious, to exist, and so must depend upon its loss, absence, to have existed at all. In fact, perhaps this is the pure and perfect incest: the brother realising that the sister's virginity must be destroyed in order to have existed at all, taking that virginity in the person of the brother-in-law, the man whom he would be if he could become, metamorphose into, the lover, the husband; by whom he would be despoiled, choose for despoiler, if he could become, metamorphose into the sister, the mistress, the bride. (p. 76-77)
[...] as though it actually were the brother who had put the spell the sister, seduced her to his own vicarious image which walked and breathed with Bon's body. (p. 85)
It was because Bon not only loved Judith after his fashion but he loved Henry too and I believe in a deeper sense than merely after his fashion. Perhaps in his fatalism he loved Henry the better of the two, seeing perhaps in the sister merely the shadow, the woman vessel with which to consummate the love whose actual object was the youth. (p. 85-86)
Perhaps this year someone will write me some Quentin/Shreve or some Quentin/Caddy or maybe some Henry/(Judith)/Charles Bon for yuletide...
Speaking of unspoken hetcestuous desires, I must go back to my harlequin, now that it's not due today OMG. Snogging has been achieved! And I am only 5K words into the story. Sigh...
~*~