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Apr. 10th, 2012
Pain and Suffering
Apr. 10th, 2012 10:00 am“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
Bah, I am sure that stupid, shallow people hurt a lot, too. It's the human condition. Isn't it grand?
.
-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
Bah, I am sure that stupid, shallow people hurt a lot, too. It's the human condition. Isn't it grand?
.
Pain and Suffering
Apr. 10th, 2012 10:00 am“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
Bah, I am sure that stupid, shallow people hurt a lot, too. It's the human condition. Isn't it grand?
.
-- Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment
Bah, I am sure that stupid, shallow people hurt a lot, too. It's the human condition. Isn't it grand?
.
Atlas Shrugged (1,1) A Fading Masterpiece
Apr. 10th, 2012 01:00 pmEddie Willers continues his walk through the city to return to the office, and Ayn Rand uses the opportunity to convey through her descriptions that sense of a country and civilization in decline:
the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down under the slender, soot-eaten walls.... A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the reflection of a fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop.
This is juxtaposed against descriptions of what a thriving, vital economy looks like, while intimating the threat that hangs over such rich living, along with further hints of the fading of this vibrancy:
Eddie Willers shifted his glance down to the street, to a vegetable push cart at the stoop of a brownstone house. He saw a pile of bright gold carrots and the fresh green of onions. He saw a clean white curtain blowing at an open window. He saw a bus turning a corner, expertly steered. He wondered why he felt reassured - and then, why he felt the sudden, inexplicable wish that these things were not left in the open, unprotected against the empty space above.
When he came to Fifth Avenue, he kept his eyes on the windows of the stores he passed. There was nothing he needed or wished to buy; but he liked to see the display of goods, any goods, objects made by men, to be used by men. He enjoyed the sight of a prosperous street; not more than every fourth one of the stores was out of business, its windows dark and empty.
I like to think that the sense of unease over “the empty space above” is that grand metaphysical vulnerability of life against the vastness of the universe and whims of chance, so that people need to appreciate what they have in a rich city and keep working to maintain it; it does not maintain itself. And for Rand, the sky is indeed empty, there is no God to watch over us.
I imagine some critics might argue that Ayn Rand overdoes it, and she could shed some pages by cutting all these descriptions and heavy-handed intimations, but I think it helps to entrench the reader in her story, and that her story is worthy of all this layering.
And gold carrots are a new one on me.
the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down under the slender, soot-eaten walls.... A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the reflection of a fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop.
This is juxtaposed against descriptions of what a thriving, vital economy looks like, while intimating the threat that hangs over such rich living, along with further hints of the fading of this vibrancy:
Eddie Willers shifted his glance down to the street, to a vegetable push cart at the stoop of a brownstone house. He saw a pile of bright gold carrots and the fresh green of onions. He saw a clean white curtain blowing at an open window. He saw a bus turning a corner, expertly steered. He wondered why he felt reassured - and then, why he felt the sudden, inexplicable wish that these things were not left in the open, unprotected against the empty space above.
When he came to Fifth Avenue, he kept his eyes on the windows of the stores he passed. There was nothing he needed or wished to buy; but he liked to see the display of goods, any goods, objects made by men, to be used by men. He enjoyed the sight of a prosperous street; not more than every fourth one of the stores was out of business, its windows dark and empty.
I like to think that the sense of unease over “the empty space above” is that grand metaphysical vulnerability of life against the vastness of the universe and whims of chance, so that people need to appreciate what they have in a rich city and keep working to maintain it; it does not maintain itself. And for Rand, the sky is indeed empty, there is no God to watch over us.
I imagine some critics might argue that Ayn Rand overdoes it, and she could shed some pages by cutting all these descriptions and heavy-handed intimations, but I think it helps to entrench the reader in her story, and that her story is worthy of all this layering.
And gold carrots are a new one on me.
Atlas Shrugged (1,1) A Fading Masterpiece
Apr. 10th, 2012 01:00 pmEddie Willers continues his walk through the city to return to the office, and Ayn Rand uses the opportunity to convey through her descriptions that sense of a country and civilization in decline:
the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down under the slender, soot-eaten walls.... A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the reflection of a fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop.
This is juxtaposed against descriptions of what a thriving, vital economy looks like, while intimating the threat that hangs over such rich living, along with further hints of the fading of this vibrancy:
Eddie Willers shifted his glance down to the street, to a vegetable push cart at the stoop of a brownstone house. He saw a pile of bright gold carrots and the fresh green of onions. He saw a clean white curtain blowing at an open window. He saw a bus turning a corner, expertly steered. He wondered why he felt reassured - and then, why he felt the sudden, inexplicable wish that these things were not left in the open, unprotected against the empty space above.
When he came to Fifth Avenue, he kept his eyes on the windows of the stores he passed. There was nothing he needed or wished to buy; but he liked to see the display of goods, any goods, objects made by men, to be used by men. He enjoyed the sight of a prosperous street; not more than every fourth one of the stores was out of business, its windows dark and empty.
I like to think that the sense of unease over “the empty space above” is that grand metaphysical vulnerability of life against the vastness of the universe and whims of chance, so that people need to appreciate what they have in a rich city and keep working to maintain it; it does not maintain itself. And for Rand, the sky is indeed empty, there is no God to watch over us.
I imagine some critics might argue that Ayn Rand overdoes it, and she could shed some pages by cutting all these descriptions and heavy-handed intimations, but I think it helps to entrench the reader in her story, and that her story is worthy of all this layering.
And gold carrots are a new one on me.
the shafts of skyscrapers against them were turning brown, like an old painting in oil, the color of a fading masterpiece. Long streaks of grime ran from under the pinnacles down under the slender, soot-eaten walls.... A jagged object cut the sky above the roofs; it was half a spire, still holding the glow of the sunset; the gold leaf had long since peeled off the other half. The glow was red and still, like the reflection of a fire: not an active fire, but a dying one which it is too late to stop.
This is juxtaposed against descriptions of what a thriving, vital economy looks like, while intimating the threat that hangs over such rich living, along with further hints of the fading of this vibrancy:
Eddie Willers shifted his glance down to the street, to a vegetable push cart at the stoop of a brownstone house. He saw a pile of bright gold carrots and the fresh green of onions. He saw a clean white curtain blowing at an open window. He saw a bus turning a corner, expertly steered. He wondered why he felt reassured - and then, why he felt the sudden, inexplicable wish that these things were not left in the open, unprotected against the empty space above.
When he came to Fifth Avenue, he kept his eyes on the windows of the stores he passed. There was nothing he needed or wished to buy; but he liked to see the display of goods, any goods, objects made by men, to be used by men. He enjoyed the sight of a prosperous street; not more than every fourth one of the stores was out of business, its windows dark and empty.
I like to think that the sense of unease over “the empty space above” is that grand metaphysical vulnerability of life against the vastness of the universe and whims of chance, so that people need to appreciate what they have in a rich city and keep working to maintain it; it does not maintain itself. And for Rand, the sky is indeed empty, there is no God to watch over us.
I imagine some critics might argue that Ayn Rand overdoes it, and she could shed some pages by cutting all these descriptions and heavy-handed intimations, but I think it helps to entrench the reader in her story, and that her story is worthy of all this layering.
And gold carrots are a new one on me.
Strange Flesh
Apr. 10th, 2012 06:22 pmTo say that I have a weakness for women is like saying Ernest Hemingway enjoyed the occasional cocktail.
-- “Strange Flesh” by Michael Olson
I began the novel today, and it is looking like a winner. I am kind of regretting not having the hardcover instead of the e-version, but then I would still be waiting some weeks before being able to take a taste of Olson’s work instead of being enrapt in it now.
_ _ _
If “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was a titillating introduction to hacker noir, then “Strange Flesh” seduces us into a rocking threesome with it. Blending taut suspense with tech savvy and vigorous prose, Michael Olson shows us a world so salacious, the real one looks flaccid by comparison. This debut tour de force will leave mystery fans flushed, breathless, and begging for more.
-- Dustin Thomason
-- “Strange Flesh” by Michael Olson
I began the novel today, and it is looking like a winner. I am kind of regretting not having the hardcover instead of the e-version, but then I would still be waiting some weeks before being able to take a taste of Olson’s work instead of being enrapt in it now.
_ _ _
If “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was a titillating introduction to hacker noir, then “Strange Flesh” seduces us into a rocking threesome with it. Blending taut suspense with tech savvy and vigorous prose, Michael Olson shows us a world so salacious, the real one looks flaccid by comparison. This debut tour de force will leave mystery fans flushed, breathless, and begging for more.
-- Dustin Thomason
Strange Flesh
Apr. 10th, 2012 06:22 pmTo say that I have a weakness for women is like saying Ernest Hemingway enjoyed the occasional cocktail.
-- “Strange Flesh” by Michael Olson
I began the novel today, and it is looking like a winner. I am kind of regretting not having the hardcover instead of the e-version, but then I would still be waiting some weeks before being able to take a taste of Olson’s work instead of being enrapt in it now.
_ _ _
If “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was a titillating introduction to hacker noir, then “Strange Flesh” seduces us into a rocking threesome with it. Blending taut suspense with tech savvy and vigorous prose, Michael Olson shows us a world so salacious, the real one looks flaccid by comparison. This debut tour de force will leave mystery fans flushed, breathless, and begging for more.
-- Dustin Thomason
-- “Strange Flesh” by Michael Olson
I began the novel today, and it is looking like a winner. I am kind of regretting not having the hardcover instead of the e-version, but then I would still be waiting some weeks before being able to take a taste of Olson’s work instead of being enrapt in it now.
_ _ _
If “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” was a titillating introduction to hacker noir, then “Strange Flesh” seduces us into a rocking threesome with it. Blending taut suspense with tech savvy and vigorous prose, Michael Olson shows us a world so salacious, the real one looks flaccid by comparison. This debut tour de force will leave mystery fans flushed, breathless, and begging for more.
-- Dustin Thomason
Taking Hockey to the Next Level
Apr. 10th, 2012 09:00 pmIt seems to be merging with professional wrestling. I don't feel the thrill myself.
Taking Hockey to the Next Level
Apr. 10th, 2012 09:00 pmIt seems to be merging with professional wrestling. I don't feel the thrill myself.