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/lit/ - Literature

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File: 123 KB, 411x560, the_monster_at_the_end_of_this_book_starring_lovable_furry_old_grover.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
1720225 No.1720225 [Reply] [Original]

Best book ever? I think so.

>> No.1720228
File: 22 KB, 200x267, Miss_Piggy_In_Pink_165218.gif [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
1720228

Grover is for pseudo-intellectual cunts.

MISS PIGGY FOHEVUR.

>> No.1720233

its postmodern as fuck

>> No.1720238

loved that book

I still have it somewhere

>> No.1720241

Grover is a metaphor for the exploitation of the youth in western society

>> No.1720270

I find the concept of Grover to be very shallow an for the lesser, uneducated of readers.

Oscar however shows a certain depth not attainable by many characters. His mere existence opens up so many questions to the reader, almost like a new universe. Why does he live in a trash can? Why is he so grouchy? Is it because he lives in a trash can? Were his parents taken from him at a young age? Is he naturally green, or has living in waste changed his complexion?

Oscar also could be an extended metaphor for Christ, living in a trash can being the equivalent of carrying the cross of our sins (a very appropriate gesture for Holy Week). He shows Christ's human side in his grouchy behavior, as Jesus did when calling upon his heavenly father during his last moments on Earth.

Thats just my opinion though.

>> No.1720267
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1720267

>> No.1720296

i'm happy for oscar and imma let him finish but lucy van pelt was the best iconic children's media grouch of all time

>> No.1720878

OMFG I had this book as a kid and loved it.

>> No.1720972

>>1720270
Oscar is solipsist or nieztchenian?

>> No.1721197

Thanks for making me nostalgia OP.
Here:
http://smollin.com/michael/tmonstr/mon001.html

>> No.1721734

>>1721197

woot

>> No.1721772

dat breaking of the third wall

dat self-referential humor

dat GROVER

>> No.1721776
File: 53 KB, 411x475, Grover_mails.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
1721776

>> No.1721782

I recently read The Monster at the End of This Book, by Lovable Furry Old Grover. I picked it up on a lark, figuring it would by a typical horror/thriller throwaway. It followed a pretty obvious course through the old cliches of the genre most of the way through, but the ending threw me for a shock that had me catatonic in existential malaise for weeks afterwards.

NOTE: DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU DO NOT WANT IT TO BE SPOILED!!!
When I found out that the monster in the book was indeed Grover I thought, "My god... it could be any of us." Yes that's right, the narrator of the book, the kindly and gentle guide through this thrill-ride, was indeed the monster of which he spoke.

This raised many, many questions. It seems from reflection that Grover himself was unaware that he was the monster. However, in the modern and postmodern likelihood of unreliable narration, it seems that it could just of easily been a clever deception by the monster, to lure the reader into his confidence before springing his trap. But the question remains. Does a monster know he is a monster? Or does his twisted logic somehow rationalize his monstrosity and allow it run rampant? Also, if this physically harmless appearance could harbor the monster of the book, doesn't that mean that anyone could be a monster? That "evil has no face" as they say?

Ultimately, it brought me to reflect that one may be a monster and not even be full conscious of the fact. That one may be revealed to be monstrous, but only at the end of a mysterious and terrible life of lies.

>> No.1721826

>>1721782
...

>> No.1721861

>>1721782
I myself thought it was more of a work of self-reflection. Grover's line near the end of the story ""The next page is the end of this book, and there is a Monster at the end of this book. Oh, I am so scared!" and his pleads for us not to discover him as the monster was an outright denial of who he was. He knew he was the monster, but he is fearful of accepting it; he was afraid of his own being. The last line really hit me hard, as he searched for sympathy, and acceptance from the reader. A great wave of melancholy crept into my chest as he left with the words "And I told, and told you there was nothing to be afraid of."