A.J. Jacobs The Year of Living Biblically (2007) |
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: A.J. Jacobs |
Paul Auster Ghosts (1986) |
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: Paul Auster |
2042 (1986) |
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Erlend Loe Stille dager i Mixing Part (2009) |
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: Erlend Loe |
Fred Vargas L'Homme à l'envers (1999) |
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: Fred Vargas |
Scarlett Thomas The End of Mr. Y (2006) |
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: Scarlett Thomas |
(2009) |
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(1984) |
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Jean-Michel Di Falco, Frédéric Beigbeder Je crois Moi non plus (2004) |
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: - Jean-Michel Di Falco Frédéric Beigbeder |
Philip K. Dick How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later (1978) |
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I can't claim to be an authority on anything, but I can honestly say that certain matters absolutely fascinate me, and that I write about them all the time. The two basic topics which fascinate me are "What is reality?" and "What constitutes the authentic human being?"
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Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.
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I have a secret love of chaos. There should be more of it. Do not believeand I am dead serious when I say thisdo not assume that order and stability are always good, in a society or in a universe. The old, the ossified, must always give way to new life and the birth of new things. Before the new things can be born the old must perish. This is a dangerous realization, because it tells us that we must eventually part with much of what is familiar to us. And that hurts. But that is part of the script of life. Unless we can psychologically accommodate change, we ourselves begin to die, inwardly. What I am saying is that objects, customs, habits, and ways of life must perish so that the authentic human being can live. And it is the authentic human being who matters most, the viable, elastic organism which can bounce back, absorb, and deal with the new.
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In my writing I got so interested in fakes that I finally came up with the concept of fake fakes. For example, in Disneyland there are fake birds worked by electric motors which emit caws and shrieks as you pass by them. Suppose some night all of us sneaked into the park with real birds and substituted them for the artificial ones. Imagine the horror the Disneyland officials would feel when they discovered the cruel hoax. Real birds! And perhaps someday even real hippos and lions. Consternation. The park being cunningly transmuted from the unreal to the real, by sinister forces. For instance, suppose the Matterhorn turned into a genuine snow-covered mountain? What if the entire place, by a miracle of God's power and wisdom, was changed, in a moment, in the blink of an eye, into something incorruptible? They would have to close down.
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The pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Parmenides taught that the only things that are real are things which never change... and the pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus taught that everything changes. If you superimpose their two views, you get this result: Nothing is real.
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: Philip K. Dick |
Gore Vidal Messiah (1954) |
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Much of the luminous crockery which was seen in the sky was never entirely explained. And explanation, in the end, was all that the people required. It made no difference how extraordinary the explanation was, if only they could know what was happening: that the shining globes which raced in formation over Sioux Falls, South Dakota, were mere residents of the Andromeda Galaxy, at home in space, omnipotent and eternal in design, on a cultural visit to our planet... if only this much could definitely be stated, the readers of newspapers would have felt secure, able in a few weeks' time to turn their attention to other problems, the visitors from farther space forgotten. It made little difference whether these mysterious blobs of light were hallucinations, inter-galactic visitors or military weapons, the important thing was to explain them.
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There is a certain dignity and excitement in possessing a dangerous secret life. To lose it in maturity is hard... and once promiscuously shared, it does become ordinary, no more troublesome than obvious dentures.
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The sky that day was like an idiot's mind, wild with odd clouds, but lovely too, guileless, natural, allusive.
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I had a small income which made modest living and careful travel easy for me... a fortunate state of affairs since, in my youth, I was of an intense disposition, capable of the passions and violence of a Rimbaud without, fortunately, the will to translate them into reality; had I had more money, or none, I might have died young, leaving behind the brief memory of a minor romanticist.
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I was of course interested in the movies, though they no longer had the same hold over the public imagination that they had had in earlier decades when a process of film before light could project, larger than life, not only on vast screens but also upon the impressionable minds of an enormous audience made homogeneous by a common passion, shadowy figures which, like the filmy envelopes of the stoic deities, floated to earth in public dreams, suggesting a braver more perfect world where love reigned and only the wicked died. But then time passed and the new deities lost their worshipers: there were too many gods and the devotees got too used to them, realizing finally that they were only mortals, involved not in magical rites but in a sordid business. Television (the home altar) succeeded the movies and their once populous and ornate temples, modeled tastefully on baroque and Byzantine themes, fell empty, the old gods moving to join the new hierarchies, becoming the domesticated godlings of television which, although it held the attention of the majority of the population, did not enrapture, did not possess dreams or shape days with longing and with secret imaginings the way the classic figures of an earlier time had.
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: Gore Vidal |
Zygmunt Bauman City of Fears, City of Hopes (2003) |
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: Zygmunt Bauman |
(2001) |
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Mil Millington Things My Girlfriend and I Argued About (2002) |
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: Mil Millington |
Richard Brautigan An Unfortunate Woman: A Journey (1982) |
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: Richard Brautigan |
Charles Bukowski Notes of a Dirty Old Man (1969) |
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: Charles Bukowski |
Kurt Vonnegut Galápagos: A Novel (1985) |
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: Kurt Vonnegut |
Stephen King The Body (1982) |
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: Stephen King |
Jo Nesbø Sorgenfri (2002) |
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: Jo Nesbø |
Kurt Vonnegut Dead-Eye Dick (1982) |
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: Kurt Vonnegut |