Literature

[Tony Storaro]

How did I miss this thread? @Tony Storaro, I never took you seriously until now. At the same time I'm wondering if my love for Salinger has no more substance to it than your obsession with Stöckli.

Ahh, that's OK man. It is not like I am insisting on being taken seriously, well most of the time anyway as most of the stuff I post here is tongue-in-cheek.
This or that brand of ski-this is not serious enough to fight over. Well, not if you are a grown adult that is.

But Stockli are good.

As for Salinger, one of these days when I have time I will try to explain why in my view he is so phenomenally good.

 

[Tony Storaro]

Not a lot of disagreement about Big Two-Hearted River, but I’d definitely argue Macomber is still retrograde Hemingway. Instead, Hills Like White Elephants is without doubt H at his best.

You know, sometimes (most of the times for me) one gets so invested in the story that he or she forgets to pay attention of the quality of writing.
For me Hills Like White Elephants was not a good story. It sucked. Big time. I mean the story, not the writing.
I am going to re-read it but from what I can remember it was about a man and a woman on a railway station somewhere in Spain, having drinks and discussing something that I would not dare mentioning here.
Far too serious. Cuts to the bone and leaves scars forever. Better not talk about it.

On the other hand Macomber although finishing badly, was a real nice story and I can remember jumping on my feet and yelling: HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM, YOU NASTY B**CH! He might have died, but he died like a man who finally found his balls.
Good story. I first read it perhaps 20 years ago and I still can vividly remember the details. Unforgettable. This is what good writing/story telling is to me.

 

[Tony Storaro]

Now....Salinger. Deep waters are these gentlemen, deep waters.

Let me just say that in my personal opinion the key to understanding Salinger does not lie in his works. No. To me, it lies in the beautiful Breakfast of Champions by my beloved Vonnegut.
More precisely in the speech which Rabo Karabekian delivered in defence and explanation of the Temptation of St. Anthony. That's a painting. Let me quote this speech here real quick:

"I now give you my word of honor…that the picture your city owns shows everything about life which truly matters, with nothing left out. It is a picture of the awareness of every animal. It is the immaterial core of every animal—the “I am” to which all messages are sent. It is all that is alive in any of us—in a mouse, in a deer, in a cocktail waitress. It is unwavering and pure, no matter what preposterous adventure may befall us. A sacred picture of Saint Anthony alone is one vertical, unwavering band of light. If a cockroach were near him, or a cocktail waitress, the picture would show two such bands of light. Our awareness is all that is alive and maybe sacred in any of us. Everything else about us is dead machinery."

Now, this and a line that occurs quite regularly in the suttas of the Pali Canon, which goes like this:

"It is not easy, while living in a home, to lead the holy life utterly perfect and pure as a polished shell."


Holy life utterly perfect and pure as a polished shell.

Luminous beings are we gentlemen, luminous beings, not this crude matter! (thanks Master Yoda)


Well this is what Salinger searched for his entire life. This is what his work is all about. I think. And there is no search more noble than this, I am telling you.

 

[cantunamunch]

*is going to have to quit this thread until he starts drinking again* *lots*

 

[Tony Storaro]

*is going to have to quit this thread until he starts drinking again* *lots*

I am just going to go to the Hardgoods thread and tell everyone who still do not own a pair of WRT ST how stupid they are.

I might put a title to it: "To all Non-WRT ST owners. With Love and Squalor".

 

[Tony Storaro]

"Do you know how pale and wanton thrillfull
Comes death on a strange hour?
Unannounced, unplanned for...
Like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven's claws"



Jim Morrison is one of the finest American poets ever. Prove me wrong.

 

[geepers]

"Do you know how pale and wanton thrillfull
Comes death on a strange hour?
Unannounced, unplanned for...
Like a scaring over-friendly guest you've brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all
And gives us wings where we had shoulders
Smooth as raven's claws"



Jim Morrison is one of the finest American poets ever. Prove me wrong.

Like a dog without a bone
An actor out of moan (or is that "An actor out on loan")

Hmmm.....

(Still a great song but that may owe more to Ray's haunting keyboard than Jim's lyrics.)

A gold pro once told me that the reason Tiger was the best (at that time) was his worst golf was better than anyone else's worst golf.

But maybe we shouldn't judge poets on their unbest efforts.... MHO dogs bones probably still beat

Mosquito, my libido.

 

[Tony Storaro]

Mosquito, my libido.

Club 27 has many many distinguished members indeed.