/lit/ - Literature

It ain't gonna walk itself, boy.

>>21204625
Cormac McCarthy’s new book came out just over a week ago and it’s the best thing I’ve read all year (not counting my Ulysses re-read). There’s still stuff out there.

>In one of his few interviews, McCarthy revealed that he respects only authors who "deal with issues of life and death", citing Henry James and Marcel Proust as examples of writers who do not. "I don't understand them ... To me, that's not literature. A lot of writers who are considered good I consider strange", he said.

Um, based?

You do write your own corncob Blood Meridian fan fiction right anon?

They rode now the company did through swift trailing scrublands. the quiet desert hyenas following behind half crazed on foot, falling grapewad rain down from the Heavens like strange nightshade ocean spray with lapping furor of the Almighty, each man a sort of shrouded fever dream dust wraith, plodding day and night across the starlit forbidance of plateaued clay and pumice and sweet alien air. Horses hooves clipping at the barren land beneath them and everywhere dust. Nothing moved. Not a lizard. Tufts of Indian Pete moss and here harsh scrapped sampling of blackberry bushels, local fauna alike, jutting out - blotting the hearty pecos Mesa landscape that now burst fully upon their collective ethos with an exhubersnce and a continence not of this time. The gang simmered and stopped again for camp. A clearing. Glanton, nude from his wainscoat down, sporting a new sort of stove pipe hat negotiated in trade with a German haberdasher and sitting back on his horse like some inert virtuous Zoraster, spat something fierce, a great bile gob of Flem and mucus emerging from his larynx and dolloping out in portered oversized pools and somehow effortlessly cooling the blob did in the desert night sand at his horse’s feet as the Kid watched. No one moved. The Judge, while minding his keep of journals and field books and other anchorite tomes some distance yonder did seek out fleeting solace in the company of one if not two nightly tiny Mexican souvenir cigerellos, his puffed pig lips pursing lightly and wan as he kissed and nibbled softly at the lit peppered bakky leaves from foreign lands, both attic and in terrorem complete. One of the Mexican guides, a half-wit nineteen year old with pallet cleft and pricked ears, son of drunkards and liars, spoke wearily at Glanton as they reached the summit and looked out at the caldera sprawl. They were three days out from Bexar. Maybe four.

hombre, vamos a hacer algo. todo lo que hacemos es caminar por el desierto mirando bebés muertos.

Glanton regarded the Mexican’s words disdain while observing through a patinaed telescope a group of rabble - hostiles - Delewares some five clicks yonder. Motionless high dry clouds on horizon yonder still. The company leader sat ponderous in his stirrups.

Si. Manana. said Glanton.

They rode down a gravel trail. They road through some brush. A mule succumbed to dypsteria and every nightfall there crept in the shadows some last thin wolves. The company stopped and watered at the request of Toadvine that Sunday mid morning and regrouped, each man endeavoring upon intruding even when beholding the mightiest of rulers to their thrones. Toadvine and the Kid spent the day at a nearby watering hole foraging for mescal and grand monstrous steaming ladled heapings of beans and greasy tortillas glazed with lard and kissed with specks of queso fresco from abuela tortillamakers.

>>20232084
As should be

>>19506358
So, he had it even better! He was the most blessed, and so the most charitable to give what he gave. Just as he realized that being famous young hinders a life, so did he realize too much money was not a blessing. One of his favorite mottos (that’s how he actually phrased it with this one) was that he was daily thankful that he didn’t manage Rome. He was a bit of a miser, but one of my favorite moments has him advancing broad Aristotle and saying that: saving money while young is a virtue, but saving money while old is a sin (not exact word here).

Is unironically a fantastic sub. It would be even better with some /lit/izens regularly appearing on it, because most redditors cant write for jack shit. This is explicitly NOT a call for raiding the site or anywhere else, so jannies, relax.
All I am saying is that where as most of reddit usually sucks, r/WritingPrompts is actually good. They just provide basic writing prompts, then you leave a short story or excerpt reply in the comments. Everybody votes on your work and comments. Its good shit.
How do you feel about it, and does anybody wanna go do a little writing over there tonight?
We cant really mimick that format due to the way chans are formatted.

It aint gonna walk itself, boy.

You're gonna walk that road son. Whether you like it or not. It has to be walked.

You will walk the road boy and you will like it.

>>18620792
Geoffrey Hill, Krasznahorkai, Lobo Antunes, McCarthy >Dostoevsky, Balzac, Turgenev, Maupassant, Chekov, Zola, Dickens, Dumas, Hugo, Lermontov, Melville, Stendhal
And I would argue that John Fosse, Pynchon, Handke, Sebald, Bolaño, Vargas Llosa etc. are as good as Turgenev, Maupassant etc. and way better than overrated mediocrities like Balzac. Not to mention poets like Adunis and Bonnefoy.
Also,
Penderecki, Ligeti, Rautavaara > Haydn, Bizet, Liszt, Mendelssohn, Bellini, Prokofiev, Puccini, Rossini
And, while were at it, Kiefer, Richter, Barceló, Veličković > Fragonard, Boucher, Le Brun, and pretty much any 18th century artist with few exceptions (such as Chardin)


The problem is that culture now faces strong competition from other, faster ways of satisfying yourself. I firmly believe that my statements above are correct (and even if they weren't, they are definitely not outrageous or other-worldly, but the opinions of someone who reads carefully), yet most people do not notice the truth of it because they would rather look at Instagram or Twitter.
Back in the day, Puccini and Johann Strauss were among the top celebrities in Europe, up there with the Queen of England and the Pope. Now, Lobo Antunes is a better artist than both (and if you disagree you are an idiot) but he's nearly unknown. The problem is not him, it's the people who simply do not care, and won't bother to make the effort of reading his (rather difficult) books.
High culture is not dead, but people have thrown it inside the coffin anyway. It does not like screaming, so there's little chance anyone is going to notice.

>the guy who spits on the burros

>>9128931
buncha plebs using punctuation

>The snow fell nor did it cease to fall.

Is this sentence correct?

The Passenger comes out next year /lit/, you excited? I have a feeling it'll be in the 1,000 page range.

http://santafe.edu/news/item/sfis-krakauer-mccarthys-new-work-be-featured-august-5-art-event/

In August Cormac McCarthy is doing a public reading from his novel "The Passenger"

Does this mean it's finished?

What's this jerk have against quotation marks?

Suttree>Blood Meridian

they're equal in prose but Suttree has better narrative, characters and atmosphere. It's also much less didactic with its themes and it's surrealism doesn't need to slap you in the face to make itself known.

This guy isn't good with characters or character development.