Books you didn't understand

Locke

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The Road

The massive critical acclaim only makes me even more perplexed. I mean, modernism and stream-of-consciousness aside, I don't draw any sort of theme or message out of that work aside from "everything dies." Thanks, but I think that one's been covered pretty well already.
 

mccardey

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I can't believe Paul Auster's name hasn't come up.

I love him to bits. Really love him.

Trying to think of some of the (very many) books that I really don't like, but apart from my Year Nine Maths text, I can't recall them clearly enough.

That Maths book was a total bastard, though. Still have nightmares about it.
 

Rhoda Nightingale

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Julian Barnes The Sense of an Ending. That's the only one I've read recently that left me feeling like I had NO idea what the hell just happened. Which was a problem, because I had to write a research paper on it. So I looked up some theories as to what the book was actually about, and realized the biggest turning point of the main character's life was told entirely in metaphor, which I completely skated by because I took it literally.

Fucking metaphors, man. Sometimes I hate being so literal-minded. Like, I can understand symbolism okay, but if you tell me, as the narrator, "So then this thing happened," I will assume that exact thing happened.

With no further information, what the hell am I supposed to do with that? Just confusing, man. I've noticed this happens most often when someone's talking about sex or death. Those seem to be the two ideas that literary writers flat-out refuse to describe in plain English. OR describe in lurid detail. Never just . . . y'know, describe. We hates it, precious.
 

ishtar'sgate

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I've noticed this happens most often when someone's talking about sex or death. Those seem to be the two ideas that literary writers flat-out refuse to describe in plain English. OR describe in lurid detail. Never just . . . y'know, describe. We hates it, precious.

Ah, but some avoid it with humor.

Just finished reading Jon Sandford's Storm Front revolving around a hunt for a stolen archaeological artifact. Chapter 22 ends with....
Ma patted the mattress and said, "Virgie, there's only one way you're gonna get that stone."
Chapter 23 was a single sentence.
Sometimes, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
 

Rhoda Nightingale

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^False equivalence--that's innuendo plus a fade-to-black. Which I prefer, since I can follow what the crap's going on, actually. What I'm talking about is this scene where the MC and his girlfriend's mother are alone in the kitchen, and she's cooking him eggs. Apparently that was a metaphor for them having the sex on the kitchen table, and the only in you get for that is one of the yolks got "broken." Opaque to the point of absurdity.
 

Lena Hillbrand

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The Road

The massive critical acclaim only makes me even more perplexed. I mean, modernism and stream-of-consciousness aside, I don't draw any sort of theme or message out of that work aside from "everything dies." Thanks, but I think that one's been covered pretty well already.

This is one of my favorite books. I'm not sure if all his books are what you call stream-of-consciousness or just really, really long sentences, but this is definitely my favorite McCarthy novel. His style doesn't really bother me.

Which may be odd, because my #1 "Didn't get it" book is Ulysses.
 

Locke

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I'm willing to suffer an odd style, even McCarthy's reluctance to allow quotation marks to sully his pages, so long as there's some sort of compelling theme at work. But I didn't find that theme. I just found a story in which you can predict the outcome of any plot turn by gauging which would be the most stark and depressing. Difficult solution to the pandemic? Nope. A pithy observation about the nature of humanity on the verge of extinction? No. I got nothing out of it except frustration and difficult passages (seriously, no quotation marks or proper names where both main characters are male, so "he" becomes hopelessly ambiguous).
 

Publius

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Ulysses . . . definitely Ulysses. I tried so hard to get it, but about half way through I took it back to the library. The librarian nodded. I think she knew.

I loved the Satanic Verses though. I thought the blending of fantasy and reality, past and present was a good spin.
 

Locke

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Ulysses . . . definitely Ulysses. I tried so hard to get it, but about half way through I took it back to the library. The librarian nodded. I think she knew.

Ulysses inspired me to create a new shelf on Goodreads titled "Gave Up."
 

Mr Flibble

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Maybe I just read/watch weird stuff, but I actually see breaking/cooking/eating eggs used to represent sex a lot.


I can imagine a lot of things being a metaphor for sex

But eggs? Eggs?

I do wonder if that's just critical thought on the book mentioned, and the author meant something else

A the curtains are fucking blue moment*




*I keep trying to get my son to say this to his teacher when they discuss themes and metaphors, but he won't. :D
 

kuwisdelu

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I can imagine a lot of things being a metaphor for sex

But eggs? Eggs?

Eggs are inherently sexual. That's their biological role, after all. Reproduction. The whites have a similar consistency to semen. The yolk bleeds when broken, similar to virgin during first intercourse.

The two examples that came to mind for me:

1. In the movie The Dreamers, when Matthew has sex with Isabelle for the first time (taking her virginity), her brother Theo watches them while making fried eggs.

2. In the anime FLCL, when Naota's father and Haruko eat a fried egg together, it serves to make Naota suspicious and jealous of his father's potentially sexual relationship with her.
 
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Mr Flibble

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Eggs are inherently sexual. That's their biological role, after all. Reproduction. The whites have a similar consistency to semen. The yolk bleeds when broken, similar to virgin during first intercourse.
I suppose maybe if you alluded to those things in the prose that would make sense.

By frying eggs = having sex* is a hell of a bloody stretch! I'd need more than that for a clue tbh.

I'm still not sure about eggs being sexual -- I mean yes, I suppose they are though I don't suppose many people think that when they eat one.

Thinking "I am just about to eat a boiled chicken ovulation" is enough to put you off your breakfast...and while I am a fan of a bacon and egg sarnie as much as the next (non veggie) person, I can't say it's a sexual experience.

So I remain muchly boggled.


* could make as much of a case for cleaning the carpets = sex.
 

Perks

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I'm still not sure about eggs being sexual -- I mean yes, I suppose they are though I don't suppose many people think that when they eat one.

Yeah, we've done quite a lot to separate sexuality from reproduction, so that oblique a reference would be tricky for me as well.
 

Mr Flibble

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The fact that the eggs we eat are infertile, and therefore not made for reproduction, might throw me too.

Also, the white is the same consistency as semen? I must be bonking all the wrong men or something. It's very vaguely similar. About as similar as watery tapioca (in the opposite direction perhaps). Don't see anyone using tapioca, or wallpaper paste as sexual metaphors.
 
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kuwisdelu

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I guess it's just all those things together, and the fact that I've seen eggs used that way in sexual scenes before, that makes eggs=sex work for me.

I've never read the book you did, so I have no idea if it works at all in that scene; I'm just saying in general, as a metaphor for sex, I get how it makes sense.
 

Devil Ledbetter

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I have not been able to stick with The Electic Koolaid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe. I'm not sure if it's just me but I so far can't discern a plot or keep the enormous cast of shaggy hippy characters straight. Or maybe that's sort of the point? Is it supposed to be a long, rambling, neo-journalistic ramble?

I like How To Be Good by Nick Hornsby but the ending left me cross-eyed in confusion. What just happened?
 

Mr Flibble

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I'm just saying in general, as a metaphor for sex, I get how it makes sense.

I think I'm just bad at getting metaphors.

Though I am tempted to put in carpet cleaning for sex now (All that rhythmic action, the gush of fluids...)
 

eyeblink

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I think I'm just bad at getting metaphors.

Though I am tempted to put in carpet cleaning for sex now (All that rhythmic action, the gush of fluids...)

It's not called a shag pile for nothing, you know...
 

Tuesdays

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I don't understand the appeal of Name of the Wind. I couldn't finish that book, but lots of people love it. I don't understand what other people see in it.