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 No.60032[Last 50 Posts]

Book discussion.
Previous thread: >>54504

So it's been about a year since I read Arabian Nights (>>54901, >>54902) and last night I was staring at the ceiling before going to bed and out of nowhere felt like going through it again and started reading. Not sure why, I think it's because it turns out it's my favorite literary work out there. This was not obvious to me until very recently but it's becoming clearer now. Let's see how a second reading feels like. I feel like this book is everything I look for in literature. Weird fantasy, horror, mystery. It feels exotic and outlandish and you never follow the same people for long. You catch them at the turn of the tide, just before the angel of death comes for them. It races through this odd, tragic world at a steady pace, highlighting the shitshow that is humanity. Beasts, monsters, men and succubi who in their fear and ignorance become even more cruel and unpredictable than a Djinn. Ghouls feeding their young with the flesh of a young prince. Warm colors of a beautiful palace, where the powerful fill their stomachs with delicate pastries in a hurry, before their inevitable demise. The peaceful, lulling sounds of a gentle breeze in the desert. Dromedaries feeding on the flowers of an Acacia tree under a clear bright sky. Fishermen dreaming about rings of sorcery inside the belly of a blue tilapia. Forgotten ruins, forgotten, sleeping demons. I want to go back to those places again and when you read it, for a moment, you're there.

Also I got a warning for posting 'test' on the previous thread. Apologies, I wanted to check if it was still bumping and forgot to delete it.


How do you lads decide what to read next? I have a list of thousands of books I want to read but can never pick one…


I thankfully don't have this problem, I always just pick one book, read it, start looking for a second one.

Maybe you should start reading what you added first, and if it's boring, skip it and start reading what you added second.


I just finished reading Snow Crash, it was weird but definitely an enjoyable read. Before that I read the Neuromancer trilogy which was also pretty good. Probably going to read Dune next.


I'm bored so I will start posting a brief summary of the things I've read so far this year. Here I go:

>El Criticón by Baltasar Gracián

This was pain to read honestly, I can't recall anything besides the major themes he Gracián touches on the book. This is a work about general skepticism and pessimism about life and this world. Trickery, lies, corruption, traps are around the corner and are the norm in this world. You can't trust anything offered by this world and redemption can only be found in God and truth. Schopenhauer had Gracián in high regard and I see the reasons. There are some memorable fables in the book but overall I will dare to say that it's poorly constructed and the metaphors he uses are rather abstruse and hard to digest. This is a Spanish classic and Gracian helped to build the basis that various European thinkers used in the next centuries but I prefer Don Quixote of Cervantes more. He's is clearer, funnier and feels like a fresh breeze when compared to El Criticón of Gracián.


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I was reading the accidental superpower. The premise of the author is that due to the fall of the soviet union, and aging populations around the world the US has become uninterested in continuing it's NATO and other worldwide relationships that have resulted in troop withdrawal, lack of trade deals, and increasingly a less american presence around the world. We're only continuing due to inertia but he expected "something" to eventually force america to return home and for history to "restart".

My main criticism is that I think he paints too rosy of a picture for the USA should it completely abandon the rest of the world but otherwise I think he's right.


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I finished reading children of men. The simplest summary I can give it is that in the end it was about a succubus jumping from man to man in search of security for her offspring with no care for any of them.

It also varied quite a bit from the movie needless to say.


Does Wizards like goth literature? What would goth folks recommend besides Edgar Allan Poe?


Idk what "goth" literature is but I totally adore gothic horror.
Is that what you mean?
If so I highly recommend reading the classics of the genre. While some of the modern stuff is quite good it just doesn't compare to the stuff that has stood the test of time.


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Recently I finished a book called Suttree, that I really liked. It's a hilarious book, something I didn't expect from the same guy who wrote Blood Meridian. A few days later I read The Screwtape Letters, since it's so brief and the prose isn't very dense, it's a really light and easy read.

I want to break next into The Technological Society by Jacques Ellul, before I do my annual re-read of The Satanic Verses. This year I've read almost all of Houllebecque's work, at least all of his novels that were translated into English.

I don't know what I'll read next, but by the time I do it'll be 2022. I guess I can decide then.


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I'm OP and I have to confess I dropped the Arabian Nights a couple of days after I started, getting just a little beyond Shahrazad'a frame story.
Instead I've been reading something quite different and I dare say quite rare indeed. In fact I don't think there's a translation of this in English at all, certainly not in its entirety and even in its native language this text is known by very few and read by even fewer.

I'm talking about Chronicle of king Peter I by Fernão Lopes, written around the 1430s. It's a very interesting text about two kings Peter, the Portuguese one and the Castilian one. Funny how the people chronicled here reminded me of the characters on the Arabian Nights. These kings are cruel and prone to violence. The Castilian Peter is perticularly perverse. The whole book is a long collection of people being terribly punished, hung, beheaded, shot, drowned, stabbed, clubbed, burnt and worse.

Yet there's a charm here, not only in the content but how Lopes tells us about those things. He uses a very personal, casual style and informs us about it in a very unceremoniously manner. I just was not expecting that from an official document from the 1400s.

Some of the events he tells us are quite memorable. There's this particular episode when the Castilian Peter uses caravels to transport his army in order to besiege a particular city. The siege doesn't go as planned and he orders every single man, including the sailors, to go ashore and help. Then at the evening a particularly strong wind pushes most of his caravels against the rocks and since no one was manning the fleet he loses most of it. Some he has to actually burn it down because he's afraid his enemy is going to be able to use them once he retreats. Lopes then casually informs us that some of those boats were from Genova and the Genovese sailors had to go back to their home on foot 'and they were very upset about it'. I imagine they were.

Also interesting is his sense of justice being nothing but the will to punish. He tells us several episodes where the Portuguese Peter goes out punishing adulterers, thieves and murderers. This guy liked to go around his kingdom, asking if there were any criminals to be punished that particular day and if there were he was quick carry out the punishment himself. Peter would have a cudgel on him at all times just in case the place he was visiting at the time had a criminal in need of a good beating. He also liked to watch those punishments being carried out while he was having his dinner. Would you imagine that.

Lopes is also quick to point out the rich, powerful and even those close to the king himself were not free from his swift justice. He tells us about two of the king squires who robbed and killed a jew and how Peter had them both beheaded, even if they were his squires and the victim was 'just a dirty jew'. And he also castrated several men for sleeping with married succubi. Somtimes he would hang the succubi too for good measure.

The people depicted are so picturesque in their behavior you almost forget they are actually real people and most of those events actually happened. Fernão Lopes was not only the official chronicler of the kingdom of Portugal, he was also the guardian of the Royal Archives and all the stuff he tells us in his books he found registered with great care on official legal documents there.

I'm fascinated. It's not the easiest read because his Portuguese is 600 years old but it's very worth it. I quite like his language, his choice of words and the stories. Two other chronicles by his hand survived. Chronicle of king Fernando I, which picks up after the death of Peter I and the coronation of his son Fernando, and Chronicle of king John I, a king from another dynasty whose Lopes was a contemporary of. I'm planning to read both.

Unfortunately there are no English translations for this, I don't think, but there are A LOT of such medieval Chronicles in English and they must contain a lot of human folly as well I'm sure. I have the impression they'll probably sound a lot more official than the way Fernão Lopes did though. Who knows. I might check on that later. I know of Froissart but never read his stuff. We'll see.
Anyway if you're curious you can find several printings of Lopes's work from the 17th and 19th centuries for free at https://archive.org/search.php?query=creator%3A%22Lopes%2C+Fern%C3%A3o%2C+b.+ca.+1380%22 I'm using the ones from 1895 because they're obviously the easier ones to read.


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>The Divine Comedy,Dante Alighieri

I don't know how to put it, Dante is eternal for a reason. As you all probably already know, Dante's hell is divided in circles. At there Dante goes to the full lengths of perversion, suffering and sadness that humanity can reach converting them in eternal ideas. The couple doomed to being blown away by a strong wind by all eternity due to their forbidden love, the rains and lakes of blood and fire, those being perpetually tortured and dissected and then, at the ninth circle, Judas and all the traitors to God, lying in a frozen lake, experiencing the strongest glacial cold imaginable, being chewed by Satan while no light, no company, no goodness will ever reach these deeps, therefore experiencing an acute eternal loneliness too.

At purgatory the intensity of the work decreases a little though is still very beautiful. At the shores of the Mount of Purgatory lies the wandering souls longing for bliss of God. While Dante climbs up the mountain he encounters many examples of extreme penitence of those who desire to reunite with God. Intense images of how they wish with all their might and soul to be granted with God's love.

At heaven Dante starts to introducing some dense discourses of how the order of world works and how everything is directed by the eternal and infinite love of God. Nonetheless, the intense imagery still remains here even more powerful. To represent this infinite love Dante has to go to the limits of his talent, probably his best poems are here. Lights, angels, music, harmony are among the resources Dante used to convey the idea of the eternal love of God sustaining the whole structure of the universe and how despite the suffering and the fluctuating nature of the world, everything is hold together in unity and for all the eternity by the never ending love of God and we are all embraced by it. That was beautiful.

Of course, Dante uses the particular motifs and characters of his time and place and he evens actively condemns or praises some of them (all that Guelphs and Ghibellines stuff in Florence, the city of Dante) and all of that is important in the work but to me the greatness of The Divine Comedy lies in the intensity and eternity of the motifs represented in the work. Truly magnificent.


Did you read it in English? I should give TDC another shot, I tried to read it years ago and gave up even before getting to purgatory. One might say I've been stuck in hell since.


did any of you read lotr



You either read it or did not, no need for ?


>Did you read it in English?
No, I read it in spanish



Random pick out of the hundreds of books I have.

Usually I buy more books because of reading about something that I want to know more about, so the 'random' book is infact interesting one too. And so the reading continues eternally.

This really only works on non-fiction. I'm currently trying to read all the Finnish literature classics, of course of which there wasn't much left to read except scraps from Snellman's, Alkio's, Linnankoski's, and Ivalo's works.

Two Finnish writers of which collected works I haven't yet touched (but have read single volume chosen works) are Juhani Aho and V.A. Koskenniemi (the latter I have steered away from, because large part of his works are poems and some such).

Not really interested in any other modern classical literature, except for few chosen ones.
I have of course read all Dostojevskis's big works and The Idiot and The Devils (for its realistic prophecy of what revolution will bring about) are really great, thanks least of which is for their Finnish translator.

In fact for Russian writers there is one really simple rule: those who have been jailed and sent to the camps for political 'offences' or are not in reality Russian (Gogol, Ukrainian), are good ones; those withn leisure life are mostly garbage (yes, I'm loooking at you Tolstoi: never again War and peace).

One exception to the rule is Chekhov, who really had the nag for writing interesting short novels and for his Sakhalin camp report (Solzenitsyn use it very often as a comparison between the camps of old older and Soviet ones).

Jaroslavs Hasek's 'Svejk' I have to mention too, because it's one of my favourite work and rereading the book after reading more about Prussian or German in general and obviously about Austro-Hungarian history, many little details and situations became understandable (why the hailing German student was beaten up for example).

Few weeks ago finished rereading Kershaws' second volume of his biography of Hitler. Best biography from the point of view of details and facts, but not as well written as Toland's.

From this subject I have read too much about (just like about Russian revolution, Soviet Union and Communism in general) really and currently somewhat tired about the subject, but will probably read Longerich's Goebbels biography in the near-future and Siemens history of the SA (read his book about Horst Wessel, which really filled all factual holes I was still missing from this specific person and incident, altough I didn't really like some of the conclusions the writer did, but that happens).

Oh yeah, also rereading Finnish Bible translation of 1776 (boy, Deuteronomy is really, really slow read…). Have also read 1642 (this was the first full Finnish Bible translation, and had extremely large meaning for written Finnish word) and also 1933 (OT) and 1938 (NT) translations, which are really good ones and much comparable to the King James version - which I have read (except for apocryphics) too.



pretty cool site i found today, has books organized by topic.


I've tried listening to the audiobook of Timur Vermes' newest book along with the second entry in Liu Cixin's trilogy but I get bored halfway through. The same thing happened with ebooks and physical books which made me switch to audio but now it seems like I can't get through anything. Maybe fiction just doesn't do it for me anymore and I need to stick with non fiction


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>The world as will and representation, Arthur Schopenhauer

This book is a milestone of pessimism. I tend to gravitate towards this kind of philosophy/literature but I had never read any Schopenhauer's book before. This is an immense work that can't be fully explained here in a mere imageboard post nor I got a complete understanding of the work but still I will give a brief recapitulation of what I believe are the central points of the book.

Schopenhauer starts by addressing one of the principal problems of metaphysics and epistemology: if one tries to think in what our perception of reality lies, generally two elements are found: each one of us as an unit perceiving the world around and that external world itself. We have sensors to capture stimulus existing in the external world and somehow this process creates the notion of reality inside our heads. The problems here are: how can we be sure that the external world truly exists at all when the whole notion of it we have is a movie generated by the conjunction of our senses and our mental structures? are the external stimulus truly coming from "outside" ? how can we even grasp some of the "truth" of the world when we are trapped inside our heads and senses?

Schopenhauer takes Kant's philosophy as the starting point to address this question. He earnestly recommends to read Kant before attempting to immerse in The World as Will and Representation. Honestly I didn't do that. Shortly, based on Schopenhauer's points in the book, Kant states that besides our sensory limitations, we are subjected too to our mental structures, i.e., the notions of space, time and causality are prebuilt inside us, everything that we can think of is immediately referred to these notions and we can't proof that these notions form the basis or the truth of this reality, the "thing-in-itself" as Kant named it. The whole perception arising from these basic notions is what he calls the world as representation.

So, If there is anything beyond space, time and causality, it would be virtually impossible to us to know anything about it. We are trapped in this realm of causes and consequences. Are we doomed to this universal prison or can we take another path to even remotely grasp some of the true nature of reality? well, that's what Schopenhauer tries by taking a different approach. He invites to look inwards, to look inside our beings.

If we look inside us we are still subjected to the limits of human knowledge but some elemental and basic facts start to appear. Each one of us can be categorized as an undeniable will expressing itself. An individual is mass of actions, plans, desires and when we wholeheartedly examine our beings we can't deny that we are that: actions and desires taking place, being sexual desire the most powerful manifestation of this inner will.

Schopenhauer takes a leap of faith here and he admits it. We've looked at ourselves and at the deepest of our beings we found pure will, why wouldn't all the things that exist behave in the same way, i.e, will is at the core of their actions and existance? Schopenhauer accepts this and stablish will as the most fundamental principle of reality.

The movement of the planets, the existance and reproduction of life, physical and chemical forces, etc are all manifestations of a universal and single will. This will appears to us as chaotic and irrational force with no purpose. This will cares only for the preservation and propagation of eternal ideas and motifs. A clear example of this is life itself: living beings are borning and dying all the time but the species, the DNA are preserved through time. Schopenhauer even argues that time, space and causality are mere tools, mere apendixes of the will that living beings use to navigate through life. The most fundamental nature of reality is then WILL. No space, no time, no causality affects the essence of will, will is a never setting sun. This is the world as will.

However, we humans and living beings in general are disposable and hopelessly trapped in the world of representation, in the world of causes and consequences. So, individual life is no more than a fugue in time waiting for inevitably wreckage of death.

What can we do? No much really, Schopenhauer offers art as mean to reduce the pain of living and connect to the eternal ideas of existance.


That was a really nice overview. I recently got the first volume, but I never read much philosophy books aside from Kierkegaard’s Either/Or, so I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a difficult read for me. Great post however.


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I do not like the majority of literature that I read because I feel it deals excessively with superficialities and trivialities. I am not impressed with reading anything that is concerned with the "human condition" because the majority of so called human concerns seem completly pathetic to me - I feel a great distance between myself and the great masses of people, and I look upon their activities with disdain. It makes no sense to me to read about these types of people when the very reason that I started reading was to get away from them. Similarly, the themes of most of the poetry I have read are uninteresting - why am I reading a poem about the beauty of trees when I can turn my head and experience this beauty with my own senses? I do not see the point of such sensual poetry.

I am interested in the idea of literature that uplifts the spirit but I can rarely find anything that truly does so. After listening to frankenstein I dropped it at the exact some point that I did when I was reading it a year ago. It suffers from the exact same problem that Dracula does, that the antagonists are more interesting than the protaganists are. I am starting to believe that the entire horror genre is unfitting for people of my constitution. The theme of this genre is that the superficial and domestic affairs of human existance are being threatened by some "evil" and that this evil must be destroyed so that the trivial existance of the herd can be maintained.

I was extremely interested in the book when it was referencing the principles of the natural sciences and describing frankenstein's obsession with his area of research - these are the uplifting ideas that I wish to be inspired by in my life. But of course, this intensity is not maintained and he has to pull back from this inspired state back into trivial existance along with his fellow apes - and what's more he has to regard his creation as "evil", and to moralise that humans are not supposed to rise to such a level. I was extremely dissapointed by this development and I can't really bring myself to go any further. The literature that I desire is still eluding me.


Hey! i used to read that blog, the guy wasn't a great writer but i really liked the stuff that he was into, it was like listening to a good friend talk about his favorite things (which is kind of the writing i'd like to make).


Obviously because you’re reading normie tier classics. Not all books are like that.
Do you tend to go for books that validate your worldview? I’m genuinely asking, not being sarcastic or anything.


I don't know how to distinguish between normal and non normal. I am trying to find something that amuses me as much as visual novels do now that I have already read most of the good ones. I suspect that the main reason that I enjoyed visual novels so much is that they allowed me to self insert so I didn't feel that I was observing the story of someone who was more boring than myself. So it would be true to say that I am looking for validation of my own ideals.

At first I was just reading VNs for simple amusement but then I read too much philosophy. Now I don't feel comfortable reading VNs anymore because they are rooted in the particular instance of recent Japan whereas I now want to attempt to experience universality. The problem is, of course, that most of the literature I attempt to read does not meet the lofty standards that some philosopher hold it to have according to my tastes.

The source of this distaste is probably my own undisciplined mind and poor understanding but the gods have decided that I must continue to push the boulder up the hill as punishment for my ineptitude.


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>I do not like the majority of literature that I read because I feel it deals excessively with superficialities and trivialities. I am not impressed with reading anything that is concerned with the "human condition" because the majority of so called human concerns seem completly pathetic to me - I feel a great distance between myself and the great masses of people.
>I am interested in the idea of literature that uplifts the spirit but I can rarely find anything that truly does so.
>I was extremely interested in the book when it was referencing the principles of the natural sciences - these are the uplifting ideas that I wish to be inspired by in my life. But of course, this intensity is not maintained and what's more he has to regard his creation as "evil", and to moralise that humans are not supposed to rise to such a level. The literature that I desire is still eluding me.
Thus Spake Zarathustra is your book.


I’m curious to know what kind of philosophy books and visual novels you’ve been reading. I’m somewhat similar, but not quite. I don’t enjoy reading anymore but still do it out of obligation, or because I don’t have anything else to do. The only book that got close to describing how I feel was a short novella by Georges Perec called A Man Asleep. I suppose any depressed wizard can self-insert into that.


>Thus Spake Zarathustra is your book.
Indeed, it is the kind of book that I desire. The problem is that Nietzsche has introduced the puzzle of literature that still torments my mind. I also now feel compelled to listen to classical music even though, again, I don't really like it that much.

I've done a fair amount of research into the history of philosophy, the individual philosophers that I'm most familiar with are Plato and Nietzsche. My favourite VNs are Air, Tsukihime, Subahibi, Umineko and Kikokugai. While I like VNs I don't have much fondness for anime which I conclude must be because it does not have the memorable soundtracks that VNs have and because the VN format is easier to project one's own attitude into so that while characters and plotlines that are uninteresting in anime become far more intruiging in VNs because it feels that I am the one who is experiencing them and not someone else.

I'm currently listening to Don Quixote and it is tolerable so far. I suppose I'll start posting in the audiobook thread shortly because listening to books is easier than reading them, although it can be easy to zone out and lose track of what is happening.


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>The Guermantes Way, Marcel Proust

This is the third volume of In the Search Of The Lost Time series. This time we follow the narrator fascination with the Guermantes family, the Duchesse de Guermantes and all the wonders encompassed by that surname.

ISOLT (In Search Of the Lost Time) might be a tedious reading if you aren't in the correct mindset because there isn't a thrilling or complex plot going on, nor Proust is as raw and direct when examining the human condition when compared to Dostoevsky for example. Besides, Proust can go for hundreds of pages describing rather mundane scenes. So, ISOLT can be a torture to read to a newcomer reader. However, when you "get it", ISOLT is great. With "get it", I'm referring to being in a state of meditation and contemplation, where you look behind and examine your life and you remember all the little details that compose it: the particular weather of a season, the landscapes, your feelings, the smells, the flavors, what you thought of a person back then and how you looked at the world in general. With that in mind you can appreciate the beauty of the scenes described by Proust.

Some notable fragments I can recall of this volume are for example: when the narrator associates the word "Guermantes" with colors and seasons of the past, the excitement and joy he felt when the Duchesse and the Princesse of Germantes smiled at him in the theater, the long essay the narrator does when he's alone at bed about the nature of the sound and silence and how sound vivifies the world, the sadness the narrator felt when he called his grandmother by telephone and after listening her dim and lonely voice, sadness invaded him; the sickness and death of his grandmother, the first time he kissed with Albertine and he was rather disappointed and I could go on.


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Some quotes to better convey the nature of the book:

>“We may, indeed, say that the hour of death is uncertain, but when we say so we represent that hour to ourselves as situated in a vague and remote expanse of time, it never occurs to us that it can have any connexion with the day that has already dawned, or may signify that death — or its first assault and partial possession of us, after which it will never leave hold of us again — may occur this very afternoon, so far from uncertain, this afternoon every hour of which has already been allotted to some occupation. You make a point of taking your drive every day so that in a month’s time you will have had the full benefit of the fresh air; you have hesitated over which cloak you will take, which cabman to call, you are in the cab, the whole day lies before you, short because you have to be at home early, as a friend is coming to see you; you hope that it will be as fine again to-morrow; and you have no suspicion that death, which has been making its way towards you along another plane, shrouded in an impenetrable darkness, has chosen precisely this day of all days to make its appearance, in a few minutes’ time, more or less, at the moment when the carriage has reached the Champs-Elysées.”

>“It is illness that makes us recognize that we do not live in isolation but are chained to a being from a different realm, worlds apart from us and by whom it is impossible to make ourselves understood: our body. Were we to meet a brigand on the road, we might manage to make him conscious of his own personal interest if not our plight. But to ask pity of our body is like talking to an octopus, for which our words can have no more meaning than the sound of the sea, and with which we should be terrified to find ourselves condemned to live.”

> “But should a sensation from the distant past-like those musical instruments that record and preserve the sound and style of the various artists who played them-enable our memory to make us hear that name with the particular tone it then had for our ears, even if the name seems not to have changed, we can still feel the distance between the various dreams which its unchanging syllables evoked for us in turn. For a second, rehearing the warbling from some distant springtime, we can extract from it, as from the little tubes of color used in painting, the precise tint-forgotten, mysterious, and fresh-of the days we thought we remembered when, like bad painters, we were in fact spreading our whole past on a single canvas and painting it with the conventional monochrome of voluntary memory.”

> “Poets claim that we recapture for a moment the self that we were long ago when we enter some house or garden in which we used to live in our youth. But these are most hazardous pilgrimages, which end as often in disappointment as in success. It is in ourselves that we should rather seek to find those fixed places, contemporaneous with different years. And great fatigue followed by a good night's rest can to a certain extent help us to do so. For in order to make us descend into the most subterranean galleries of sleep, where no reflexion from overnight, no gleam of memory comes to light up the interior monologue—if the latter does not itself cease—fatigue followed by rest will so thoroughly turn over the soil and penetrate the bedrock of our bodies that we discover down there, where our muscles plunge and twist in their ramifications and breathe in new life, the garden where we played in our childhood. There is no need to travel in order to see it again; we must dig down inwardly to discover it. What once covered the earth is no longer above but beneath it; a mere excursion does not suffice for a visit to the dead city: excavation is necessary also. But we shall see how certain fugitive and fortuitous impressions carry us back even more effectively to the past, with a more delicate precision, with a more light-winged, more immaterial, more headlong, more unerring, more immortal flight, than these organic dislocations.”


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Currently reading the Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa, the incomplete autobiography of a flâneur/literary genius. I don't know about his personal life but his detached anhedonia perfectly exemplifies a wizard's attitude, he puts into words what many of us are only half consciously thinking on the daily, and the words are beautifully structured in a way that you don't even realize until you've already finished the sentence.

It's fairly long and requires to be read when in a specific mood, thematically it can get repetitive but that is very clearly on purpose.

Most of it revolves around his preference for dreams and disdain for any sort of action, his nostalgia or his renunciation of it, his deep melancholy as he describes Lisbon which moves on around him.


that rock quote is a real feeler

if you find anything else please share


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I'm not exaggerating I could post basically the entire book, any wizard would relate to Pessoa more than any other author I can think of


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hot damn the mirror one is brutal in the best possible way


I'm convinced, will read it now.


I can read most things in French but Proust is a whole other level of difficulty. I really wanted to read it in the original language first but every time someone brings it up I feel like starting right away with a translation.


I'm reading the book of disquiet now and I have to say everything I'm reading in it resonates on a level I've never had before. I am loving the way it was written too, in fragments and pieces. The way it starts out you would think it was written in 2015 but he must've written that in the early 20th century. It cements in my mind that we've been living in a prolonged dark age of sorts since before we were born if things were that bad back then.


"With merely a kind of smile in my soul, I passively consider the definitive confinement of my life to the Rua dos Douradores, to this office, to the people who surround me. An income sufficient for food and drink, a roof over my head, and a little free time in which to dream and write, to sleep – what more can I ask of the Gods or expect from Destiny?

I've had great ambitions and boundless dreams, but so has the delivery boy or the seamstress, because everyone has dreams. What distinguishes certain of us is our capacity for fulfilling them, or our destiny that they be fulfilled.

In dreams I am equal to the delivery boy and the seamstress. I differ from them only in knowing how to write. Yes, writing is an act, a personal circumstance that distinguishes me from them. But in my soul I'm their equal.

I realize that their are islands to the South and great cosmopolitan attractions and…

If I had the world in my hand, I'm quite sure that I would trade it for a ticket to the Rua dos Douradores.

Perhaps my destiny is to remain forever a bookkeeper, with poetry or literature as a butterfly that alights on my head, making me look ridiculous to the extent it looks beautiful.

I'll miss Moreira, but what's that next to a glorious promotion?

I know that the day I become head bookkeeper of Vasques & Co. will be one of the great days of my life. I know it with forestated bitterness and irony, but also with the intellectual advantage of certainty."


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>A Short History of Decay, Emil Cioran

Cioran probably wrote the same book several times but he's always a quality reading. Amongst the countless prophets and messiah that pullulate over the world, he on the other hand offers nothing. No salvation, no redemption is possible. Language, words, politics, tradition, ideologies, etc, all are absurdities when compared with the vast void and emptiness of the world. Yet he knows that a strong and criminal conviction is needed to sustain civilization and keep living. Once the lie has worn out, societies are doomed to collapse and death. Still, one can say that Cioran, rather than being a life denier, experienced life intensely. To doubt of everything, to doubt of even meaning and language, to deeply apprehend the void intrinsic to life is equal to be marveled at the wonder of existence. He's full of life. For that reason he had in very high regard the saints, those capable of almost abandoning consciousness and melting with God and eternity.


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>The Reactionary Angels

>It is difficult to sit in judgment on the revolt of the least philosophical of the angels without a tinge of sympathy, amazement, and . . . blame. Injustice governs the universe. Everything which is done and undone there bears the stamp of a filthy fragility, as if matter were the fruit of a scandal at the core of nothingness. Each being feeds on the agony of some other; the moments rush like vampires upon time’s anemia; the world is a receptacle of sobs. . . . In this slaughterhouse, to fold one’s arms or to draw one’s sword are equally vain gestures. No proud frenzy can shake space to its foundations or ennoble men’s souls. Triumphs and failures follow one another according to an unknown law named destiny, a name to which we resort when, philosophically unprovided for, our sojourn here on earth or anywhere seems insoluble to us, a kind of curse to endure, senseless and undeserved. Destiny—favorite word in the vocabulary of the vanquished. . . . Greedy for a nomenclature of the Irremediable, we seek relief in verbal invention, in lights suspended over our disasters. Words are charitable: their frail reality deceives and consoles us. . . .

>Thus “destiny,” which can will nothing, is what has willed what happens to us. . . . Infatuated with the Irrational as the sole mode of explanation, we watch it tip the scale of our fate, which weighs only negative elements. Where find the pride to provoke the forces which have so decreed, and what is more, are not to be held responsible for this decree? Against whom wage the struggle, and where lead the assault when injustice haunts the air of our lungs, the space of our thoughts, the silence and the stupor of the stars? Our revolt is as ill conceived as the world which provokes it. How take it on ourselves to right wrongs when, like Don Quixote on his deathbed, we have lost—madness at its end, exhausted—vigor and illusion to confront the highroads, combats, and defeats? And how regain the energy of that seditious angel who, still at time’s start, knew nothing of that pestilential wisdom in which our impulses asphyxiate? Where find enough verve and presumption to stigmatize the herd of the other angels, while here on earth to follow their colleague is to cast oneself still lower, while men’s injustice imitates God’s, and all rebellion sets the soul against infinity and breaks it there? The anonymous angels—huddled under their ageless wings, eternally victors and vanquished in God, numb to the deadly curiosities, dreamers parallel to the earthly griefs—who would dare to cast the first stone at them and, in defiance, divide their sleep? Revolt, the pride of downfall, takes its nobility only from its uselessness: sufferings awaken it and then abandon it; frenzy exalts it and disappointment denies it. . . . Revolt cannot have a meaning in a non-valid universe. . . .

>(In this world nothing is in its place, beginning with this world itself. We must therefore not be surprised by the spectacle of human injustice. It is equally futile to refuse or to accept the social order: we must endure its changes for the better or the worse with a despairing conformism, as we endure birth, love, the weather, and death. Decomposition presides over the laws of life: closer to our dust than inanimate objects to theirs, we succumb before them and rash upon our destiny under the gaze of the apparently indestructible stars. But they themselves will crumble in a universe which only our heart takes seriously, later expiating its lack of irony by terrible lacerations. . . .

>No one can correct God’s injustice or that of men: every action is merely a special, apparently organized case of the original Chaos. We are swept on by a whirlwind which dates back to the dawn of time; and if this whirlwind has assumed the aspect of an order, it is only the better to do away with us. . . .)


I recommend Oswald Spengler "Decline of the West" good book. Link: https://archive.org/details/DeclineOfTheWestSpengler/mode/2up


Boring, keeps going in circles for no reason. It's just one simple idea and it could have been expressed in one paragraph. Fucking writers always have to masturbate over their little pet theories like they're something special. Over 100 years later the same crowd is still screeching about 'decline.'


Anyone knows where i can find "Schloss Nornepygge" by Max Brod in english? or in text form so i can easily copy and translate it


Is there another anonymous board for discussing literature? 4chan mods are trying to enforce tiktok attention span, and wizchan is nice and well moderated, but too slow.


>4chan mods are trying to enforce tiktok attention span
What do you mean?


How did you feel about the end? I've read it two or three times and always wished it had another twenty pages to resolve the stuff with Hiro and such, but I don't hate the ending.


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probably encouraging posts like this


I can't imagine being a 4chan mod, the place goes so fast it would be like a full time job, eventually getting burned out by the never ending assault of retards on proxies and dynamic IPs, the once fun board you used to like would become an annoying shitshow of unwanted work while people get mad at you for not being some unsleeping robot that instantly catches shitty posts that are made every second


that's just /b/ though right? i hope. i have fond memories of the other boards, that would be unthinkable seeing that shit on any other board


it's /v/ but those have been one in the same for since 2009.


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>The Temple of Dawn, Yukio Mishima

This is the third volume of the Sea of Fertility tetralogy. We follow Shigekuni Honda, an old adult man by this point, his meditations of different currents of Buddhism and his increasing voyeurism.

On the first part of the book Honda travels to Thailand where he meets a princess called Ying Chan who claims to be the reincarnation of a young Japanese man (Isao and Kiyoaki, the two boys that died in the two previous volumes following their passions and were close to Honda). After that Honda embarks in a travel to India where he visits sacred places of Hinduism and then the book introduces heavy analysis on different schools of Buddhism. I don't recall the details of these long meditations but I find interesting how Mishima thinks that despite the fleeting nature of life and beauty yet there is something eternal and transcendental in existence in a fashion akin to Buddhism. I can recall touching moments across the tetralogy (the photo of the soldiers going to the war with Russia; Honda, Kiyoaki and the two princes from Siam at the beach contemplating the sea; the harakiri of Isao while the sun was rising, etc) that transmit this feeling of ephemeral yet eternal beauty. The events in the world are in continual cycle of creation and destruction but the idea of beauty is eternal.

However in this same volume we probably see how Mishima was increasingly worried with growing old and leading of life of mediocrity and conformity. Honda is the character that Mishima uses to represent this aspect. His inadequacy, his old age and his feeling of a wasted life are conveyed through his voyeurism: Life with all his passion and beauty is going but now he is just a man that can only spy persons having sex, that can only watch from far away. That's ugly. He, the man that led a life of order and rationality can only loose some of his passions through this petty act.

Following Mishima style, this volume ends with a climax where Honda spies Ying Chan having lesbian sex and the subsequent destruction of the house where this event took place by fire. An act of consummation.



Some quotes:

>It was outrageous that his pleasure might disgust others and thereby subject him to their everlasting repugnance and further that such disgust might one day grow to be an indispensable element of pleasure. Chilling self-disgust fused with the sweetest allurement… the very denial of existence joining with the concept of immortality that can never be healed. This unhealable existence was the unique essence of immortality.

>Flames reflecting in the water… burning corpses… Benares! How could he have dreamed of recapturing the ultimate he had seen in that holy land?The house had turned into kindling and life had become fire. All triviality had turned to ash and nothing but the most essential was important, and the hidden, gigantic face had turned up its head abruptly from the flame. Laughter, screams, sobs were all absorbed in the clamor of the flames, the crackling of wood, the distorted panes of glass, the creaking of the joints – sound itself was enveloped in an absolute quiet.


Fellow reading wizzies, forgive my blogpost, but I'd like to ask for some advice.

I find it really difficult to fit reading into my daily life for two main reasons. Reason 1 is that my attention span is bad due to constant internet/tech usage when I'm awake, meaning it's hard for me to read more than a page or two at a time before my eyes and mind wander. Now, I have solved this before, having spent multiple periods of time offline and/or tech free, spending most of my free time reading (usually 3-6 week long periods). These periods can be really nice, and I have lots of nice memories of relaxing and reading for hours at a time - and I feel genuinely happier and more fulfilled than any day using the net and tech. This, however, leads me to Reason 2:
When I read a lot, my days get painfully lonely. Usually I have 0 problems with loneliness, because I can chat online all day with online friends or anonymously in forums, and I can discuss hobbies and relatable things with others who understand. But when I read for a few weeks and keep away from the net, I get struck with a feeling of isolation, not just because I can't talk to people (all my friends are online), but also because I'm no longer participating in or doing anything that my peers can relate to. I have nobody to talk to about reading or the tech detoxing.

To reiterate, I really want to read more. Sometimes I'll read 3 or 4 novels in a week when away from tech and I enjoy it more than anything I do online. But I don't know how to do it without the downsides of not being in touch with internet culture, friends and forums, which feel like my last tether to decent mental health and sanity. I feel bored and sad and unfulfilled when I spend days online, scrolling content I don't care about. So how can I strike a balance? Until now I've only ever done cold turkey tech/internet detoxes, but I don't want to do another one (I've done more than 10 before, lost count) just to go back to "normal".

Lots of wizzies and some normal folks manage to balance tech and reading, but to me they seem incompatible. The internet is something you skimread and you dart your eyes around looking for the best content, whilst reading is the opposite, you fall into the pages and absorb every sentence.

Any advice or similar experiences are appreciated.




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>Lots of wizzies and some normal folks manage to balance tech and reading, but to me they seem incompatible. The internet is something you skimread and you dart your eyes around looking for the best content, whilst reading is the opposite, you fall into the pages and absorb every sentence.
There are different types of reading. Falling into a page is one type, entering a dialectic with the text is another. There are traditions of lectio divina and biblomancy, along with structural and deconstructive literary techniques. There's no reason why reading has to be a passive act. Not all texts are worthy of active participation, but the ones that are may help you restrike the balance.

Sehr gut, I hope wiz appreciates the irony.


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You need better reason to read than just "I like to read", only changing your enviroment might help. Have you thought about joining book club or internet forum for readers? You will have a good reason to actually read a book, because that will be your duty as a club member (one downside is that it probably won't be book you like) and you won't feel as much lonley because there will be other people too.


>There are different types of reading
I understand what you mean, but I specifically like the feeling of being carried away by a novel for a a few hours, losing myself in the story. That's the part of reading that makes me happy and feels fulfilled, and it's the only hobby I've had in years that makes me forget about/lost track of time. The way I read forums and the news etc is totally different.

I don't think you understood what I meant, but that's probably my fault.
>You need better reason to read than just "I like to read"
this isn't my only reason. As I mentioned to the another anon just now, reading is the only hobby I have that I enjoy enough to really lose track of time, and it's the only form of media that really emotionally affects me. I enjoy it significantly more than anything else that I do in life, besides maybe cycling, which I can't do for half the year.
>You will have a good reason to actually read a book
Again, I'm not missing a "reason" to read, I'm missing the attention span. When I spend a few weeks of tech I can read for hours at a time with almost complete concentration, taking 2 minute breaks when I need it, every hour or so. But when using the internet as normal I can barely read 2 pages.


Don't be too hard on yourself,just take a break, if you can take a break for six months from cycling, you can also take a break from reading for a few days (even if you don't want to).


Has anyone read that 48 laws of power book? I skimmed a PDF and it seems like sociopathic bullshit, but who knows. I like the idea of a secular book of principles like that anyway.


It's not really sociopathic. Some of it seems so, and Greene is a Jew, if that matters. He reminds the reader to engage as ethically as possible, and to not just be callous with people who don't have much to offer.


Was Either/Or worth the read? I have it on my desk right now.


I read that and "Purity of Heart" and enjoyed both. Read it wiz!


I remember this guy! He wrote about efilism, pessimistic, escapism and NEET related stuff in Spanish until he deleted all his entire content one day. Apparently he has APD or something like that.

Anyway. I just found another blog pretty similar to Mainländer's one:

>As far as I’m concerned, nihilism reminds us that we’re nothing more than rudderless puppets, spastically flailing in the dark for anything to grab on to that can alleviate us the burden of our existence. We distract ourselves, we put our faith into cultural ideas or other human made institutions, or we try to paint a more aesthetically pleasing face over what is otherwise a bottomless hole of nothing.


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Does anyone know of a short book, something small I can fit into my pocket perhaps, that contains great practical wisdom? Like a little manual for life or a short fable or something like that. A poetry book perhaps?


The Bible - Proverbs
The Dao De Ching (Up to interpretation)

There was a book I find at library as child, big some 200 pages of proverbs and general advice for teens, mostly for males. It had a Yoda quote "Do or do not, there is no try". Not sure of name.

Some soldiers, many from Vietnam conflict, have written series' of practical lessons they learned through trials and camaraderie.


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> Duino Elegies, Rainer Maria Rilke

This was a rather hard reading for me. These poems are difficult to interpret but when you "get them" the beauty of them flourish. Rilke, through the figure of the angel puts the reader through some difficult questions and dilemmas proper of the human condition. I don't know what he's exactly talking about when he uses the concept of angel. For sure, he is not talking about a particular being nor the classical definition of angel. Probably I'm totally wrong here but the angel is something like transcending the fears and constraints of mundane life, totality, experiencing life to its fullest. Among the major themes Rilke touches in this book are fear of death, loneliness, the nature of sexual desire. I will have to reread this some time in the future, I'm sure I will appreciate it better. For the time being I can say I liked it and got some vague impressions.

>It’s true enough, of course, no longer to live on earth is strange, to abandon customs barely mastered yet, not to interpret roses and other auspicious things, not give them meaning in a human future. No longer to be as we have always been, in those endlessly anxious hands – to leave even our name behind us as a child leaves off playing with a broken toy. Strange, no longer to know desires desired – strange to witness the involvement of all things lost suddenly, each drifting away singly into space. And truly, to be dead is hard, so full of making up lost ground, till little by little we find a trace of eternity. Yet, the living are wrong to draw such distinctions so clearly: angels (it is said) are often never quite sure whether they pass among the living or the dead


>"Nobody sees Death,
Nobody sees the face of Death,
Nobody hears the voice of Death.
Savage Death just cuts mankind down".

Gilgamesh, Tablet X, VI.


Pretty good summary. I have some things to add though. Schopenhauer's "leap of faith" in relation to the identification of the Will as the sole substance of reality is indeed a crucial step in his argumentation, it's the "narrow door" in Kant's epistemology. It would be paradoxical to identify the substance through the logic of the representation, since it wouldn't lead us to the thing-in-itself but, obviously, to the representation. Thus the "leap of faith". It is important to notice that Schopenhauer gives an in depth analysis of nature (in this is and other books) that point towards a confirmation of his theory. And indeed, as an evolutionary psychologists I will tell you Schopenhauer's metaphysics feels proven to me the more I study this field.

>What can we do? No much really, Schopenhauer offers art as mean to reduce the pain of living and connect to the eternal ideas of existance.

That's not all. Since the Will produces suffering through eternal dissatisfaction (the Will moves you from point A to point B, since all its nature is is self-continuation, through desire; this move requires that you feel dissatisfied with being at point A, you get satisfied momentarily when you reach point B, get bored, and then start desiring point C) the solution to suffering is denial-of-the-Will, to stop desiring to reach another "point".


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i've been reading some afrocentric literature for black history month

i wonder how true all this information is.

he comflates indentured servants with black slaves. i was always told those were different things





I have studied arabic for sometime
These guys are super nihlists
Many of their poems are about hating the current life most of them believe there is another life
One of the poets who is famous for that is Aba al atahya
If you can read arabic please read for him
His words truely describes our lives

sometimes i even doubt that he was secretly a wizard being a wizard in arab society is like bekng a homo or even worse


How to smoke weed and read books? Is there someone here who does both successfully? I'm not very disciplined but I have read a few books before starting to smoke, but I feel like a retard when I'm in a period where I smoke (even when I'm sober in the following days) and I can't focus. Is this a choice I have to make? I feel like both books and weed improve my creativity. Weed is definitely less healthy, but it's easier. I feel guilty not being able to focus on what I'm reading.


What are your thoughts on the way the publishing industry is going?

Do you guys even read newer and just released books?


I thought Al-Ma'arri was the OG Arabian wizard. I can't read Arabic though, wish I could jahili/pre-Islamic poetry in translation is still beautiful.


I am currently reading The Constitution of Liberty by the economist Friedrich Hayek.

This book discusses the ideals of freedom and liberty that have shaped the Western civilization and the dangers of an expanding government that may halten the West growth and lead to its decline.

I guess you would consider it anti-NEET as it leans more towards libertarian ideology.
However, it's a very good read. I was oblivious to the dynamics that freedom creates in a society.


>expanding government

Careful with those ideas. Just stop an think for a second: were do you have more freedom and liberty? in the private sector? are corporations and workplaces "democratic"? No, they are authoritarian and completely vertical. You do what your boss tells you or you get fired, and even if you do what your boss tells you, you still can get fire anyway because of cost reduction or because he just doesn't like you.

Once you realize that, it's follows automatically that if you have more of that and less of the state that is the only true "free and democratic" institution that you have in society were you have any say at all (beyond a few minor exceptions) you are not going to have more freedom at all but completely the opposite. Once the state is lessen or out of the picture, you know what the corpos in the private sector are going to do, because they are already doing it, they are going to enslave you even worst and you are going to have to work 12-16hs a day 6-7 days a week like it was 100 years ago.

The problem is not a "big government" the problem is an "efficient government" that works for you instead of the bureaucrats and the corpos.

Or that libertarian shit only works if you already have money and power. If you are a broke peasant you are going to eat shit even worst in a libertarian society.


Democracy is not a synonym for freedom.
Voluntary hierarchy isn't inherently anti-freedom.

Arguments aside the book sounds interesting and I think I will at least check to see if there is a easy to find audio book version of it so I can listen to it while at work.


>Once the state is lessen or out of the picture, you know what the corpos in the private sector are going to do
You can even think about it backward.
If the corpos are removed from the picture, the state would oppress its people like what happened in the communist era.

I think we need a fine balance between state interventionism and laissez-faire. The issue is that such balance is extremely difficult to preserve and to define because :
-First, this balance is not set in stones. Different times, different needs.
-Secondly, the leaders are biased by the community they're trying to appease or their own interest.

So, maybe it's a process of experimentation. We throw laws around, see their effect and judge if they should continue to be applied or abolished.

The issue with the experimentation process is that you are toying with people's life (this isn't like a science lab where you play with chemicals) and quite possibly hurting the social tissue. It will take a long time for the wound to heal, granted you are not experimenting with other laws that can mess this situation even more.

Plus, when your book of law contains thousand laws, how is it possible to differentiate the defective harmful ones from the neutral or good ones. Frankly it's no easy task and it's probably why governments quickly abandon the idea of reforming and just adds in new laws to the ever expanding set.

In this context, I can see the appeal of laissez-faire. Get rid of this pile nobody can make sense of anymore, implement few basic laws and let the market do its thing.
At the same time, it could be scary if it leads to the elites sucking us dry. Although you can argue it's kinda already the case since 1% people owns 90% wealth, this mostly due to the usury that our financial system is based on.


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>Les Chants de Maldoror, Lautréamont

In this collection of prose poems, Lautréamont takes the reader through the "adventures" and musings of Maldoror, the incarnation he uses to represent pure evil. Lautréamont is almost a natural heir of Baudelaire, Rimbaud, etc. Following that style, Lautréamont poems are like an invitation to "explode", to transcend the Baudelaire's spleen by letting all of our inner desires to take free expression in this world. Doing that implies inflicting suffering and pain unto others, basically being evil, but to Lautréamont that also is like a form of merging with the universe, connecting with God, experiencing "total reality". Both Baudelaire and Rimbaud share this need of expanding outwards, of letting everything inside you to takes free way and of experiencing sensations to its fullest but Lautréamont is another level of brutality and violence. This was a very fierce and intriguing book.


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>We must let our nails grow for a fortnight. Oh! how sweet it is to snatch a child from his bed, who has nothing on his upper lip, and, with his eyes open, pretend to pass his hand sweetly on his forehead, tilting his hands hair! Then, suddenly, at the moment when he least expected it, to push the long nails into his soft breast, so that he did not die; for if he died, one would not later have the appearance of his miseries. Then the blood is drunk by licking the wounds; and during this time, which should last as long as eternity lasts, the child weeps. Nothing is so good as his blood, extracted as I have just said, and still warm, if not his tears, bitter as salt. Male, Have you ever tasted your blood, when by chance you cut your finger? How good it is, is not it; for he has no taste. Besides, do not you remember one day, in your gloomy reflections, carried your hand, hollowed in the depths, on your diseased ligure wet by what was falling from your eyes; which then went fatally towards the mouth, which drew long lines in this cup, trembling like the teeth of the pupil who looks obliquely at the one who was born to oppress him, tears? How good they are, are they not? for they have the taste of vinegar. One would say the tears of the one who loves most; but the tears of the child are better on the palate. He does not betray, not yet knowing the evil: the one who loves most betrays sooner or later … I guess by analogy, though I do not know what friendship is, or love (it is probable that I will never accept them, at least on the part of the human race). So, since your blood and tears do not disgust you, feed, feed with confidence the tears and blood of the adolescent. Bend his eyes, while you tear his palpitating flesh; and after hearing long hours his sublime cries, like the piercing groaning in a battle the throats of the dying wounded, then, having thrown you as an avalanche, throw yourself into the next room, and you will pretend to to come to his rescue. You will untie his hands, with the nerves and the swollen veins, you will render the sight to his eyes lost, restoring you to lick his tears and his blood. As then repentance is true! The the divine spark which is in us, and appears so rarely, shows itself; too late! As the heart overflows with being able to console the innocent one who has been harmed: "Adolescent, who has just suffered cruel pains, who has been able to commit a crime on you which I know not what name to call! Unhappy that you are! How you must suffer! And if your mother knew this, she would not be nearer to death, so abhorred by the guilty than I am now. Alas! what is good and evil? Is it the same thing by which we rage our impotence, and the passion of reaching to infinity by even the most insane means? Or are they two different things? Yes … that it is rather the same thing … for, if not, what will become of me on the day of judgment? Teenager, forgive me; it is he who is before your noble and sacred face, who has broken your bones and torn the flesh that hangs in different parts of your body. Is it a delirium of my sick reason, is it a secret instinct that does not depend on my reasoning, like that of the eagle rending its prey, which prompted me to commit this crime; and yet, as much as my victim, I was suffering! Adolescent, forgive me. Once I have emerged from this passing life, I want to be interwoven for eternity; to form but one being, my mouth stuck to your mouth. Even so, my punishment will not be complete. Then you will tear me, without ever stopping, with teeth and nails at the same time. I shall wrap my body with balmy garlands for this atoning sacrifice; and we shall both suffer, to be torn, you, to tear me … my mouth glued to your mouth. O teenager, with fair hair and so sweet eyes, will you do what I advise you? In spite of you, I want you to do it, and you will make my conscience happy. "After speaking thus, at the same time you will have harmed a human being, and you will be loved by the same being: it is happiness greater than can be conceived. Later, you can put him in the hospital; for the perclus will not be able to make a living. You will be called good, and laurel wreaths and gold medals will hide your bare feet, scattered over the great tomb, with the old face, O you, whose name I do not want to write on this page which consecrates the sanctity of crime, I know that your forgiveness was immense as the universe. But I still exist! be torn, you, tear me … my mouth stuck to your mouth. O teenager, with fair hair and so sweet eyes, will you do what I advise you? In spite of you, I want you to do it, and you will make my conscience happy.


I am reading the "Love letter to America", written by a KGB defector Yuri Bezmenov, in which he details the communists (thus the KGB) tactics to culturally destroy then physically conquer a nation that cannot be taken out frontally.

It's at the same time eye-opening but also quite frankly frightening, specially when you notice that these tactics are still being used (not by USSR since it's long gone) but by the elites who own mass media, hollywood, governments etc.

Here is the pdf link : https://ia802308.us.archive.org/34/items/1984-yb-love-letter-to-america/1984%20YB%20Love%20Letter%20To%20America.pdf

He quoted a writer named Gregory Clark, and it's quite accurate to our current time :
"If I were a communist agent in America with millions of dollars to spend annually I would not waste it in bribing public servants to give away states secrets. But I would lavish and encourage the sleazy tune-smiths of that region to turn out more and more of garbage culture"



gonna read a world history textbook from cover to cover


Wizards know deep Arab lore remains an underrated catalogue of books. Lovecraft based his Necronomicon on Arab esoterica for good reason.


Do you think his solution of backing up religious institutions is really the only way to counter the Communists after our precious bodily fluids?



capitalists are more neet friendly than commies



Well that book is more about minarchism vs the welfare state than communism vs capitalism, there are different points along the economic spectrum not just 2 binary extremes


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>Sodom and Gomorrah, Marcel Proust

This volume of In the Search of the Lost time puts great emphasis on homosexuality. As through the whole series, we perceive in a very intimate way how the world changes for the narrator when he discovers new facets of the persons he frequents. This time, homosexuality is a hidden force, a secret society beneath the general public and the formal relations. To fully satisfy their desires without bluntly disrupting the normal order, the homosexuals, the members of this secret club, have to resort to tricks, gestures and keywords only known by the members of the club. The application of these tactics is the perfect ferment to someone like Marcel, our narrator, to discover new sides of the characters. The Baron de Charlus is basically the main character in this novel used to represent the secret fraternity of homosexuals. He's all uppity, aristocratic, disparaging and fondly proud of his bloodline but when his desires takes the ride, he begins to act cowardly, timid, incoherent or even he's more conceited and disrespectful.

Another aspect I enjoyed in this volume was the mourning of Marcel due to the death of his grandmother. She died in the previous volume, probably several months/years have passed since then but he didn't totally realized that she was absent for ever until he returned to Balbec and everything there was reminding him of her. A classical Proustian moment when the things, the spaces, the weather take us to the past but also a cruel reminder that all these things we love in life are permeated by death and we will depart from this spectacle someday.

Sadly for Marcel, his beloved Albertine also takes part in the fraternity of homosexuals. Marcel suspects it and we are witnesses of his pains and sufferings while he tries to divert Albertine from that path.

The volume ends with an "in crescendo" where Marcel realizes that all his efforts where futile since the beginning, Albertine has been homosexual for several years already, she's an integral member of the secret club. This realization breaks the hearth of Marcel and life now looks depleted and painful to him. The sunshine at the shore of Balbec is not an invitation to life like it usually looked to him but a heavy and melancholic painting.



You do realize that was his shitty communists country the one that collapsed and they had complete control over the culture?

In other words, he doesn't know what he is talking about. The Communist leaders ideas - and by extension the KGB - on the matter were proven to be garbage when they failed to prevent their own culture collapse.

In practice it works the other way around, if you try to control the culture so it's "good" like they did, you infantilize it killing creativity and making it less resilient. If you expose it to "garbage" it develops anti-bodies for it and it grows stronger. That is why shitty countries that control their culture like China have to steal all their technology from the West and live like lowly dogs and not the other way around.


What translation are you reading? Would you say Proust is overrated


I wouldn’t say overrated since most people don’t read beyond the first two, or maybe even three books. It gets dull in some parts, but overall it’s a good book. Not War and Peace good, but still good. A lot of people like to name-drop Proust as a way of social posturing, mentioning the Madeline cake, the theme of involuntary memory and all that. But really deep down it’s very disquieting and pessimistic once you get to the later parts.
I’d recommend Samuel Beckett’s essay on him if you’re interested in a different perspective.


>Habit is a compromise effected between the individual and his environment, or between the individual and his own organic eccentricities, the guarantee of a dull inviolability, the lightning-conductor of his existence. Habit is the ballast that chains the dog to his vomit. The periods of transition that separate consecutive adaptations represent the perilous zones in the life of the individual, dangerous, precarious, painful, mysterious and fertile, when for the moment the boredom of living is replaced by the suffering of being.

You seem to read a lot. Do you have reading tips or advice? And may I ask what you do for living or how you make time for reading? Just curious about jobs that would enable one to read so much. Also, did you ever feel compelled to go to college to study any of this?


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"The ancients, to awake from life, turned to death. The moderns flee from death in order not to awake, and take pains not even to think of it. Which are the more ‘practical’? Those who compare earthly life to sleep and wait for the miracle of the awakening, or those who see in death a sleep without dream-faces, the perfect sleep, and while away their time with ‘reasonable’ and ‘natural’ explanations? That is the basic question of philosophy, and he who evades it evades philosophy itself."

Lev Shestov. It's a very interesting philosopher who was pretty much a sort of irl Dostoevsky's Underground Man. He was both the Anti-Spinoza and the Anti-Aquinas as he thought God is beyond all reason and logic, the realm of absolute freedom against the Necessity and the laws. For him death was one of the most important philosophical topics, death is the tragic and pure reality and everyone is asleep until they confront Her face to face, like Dostoevsky himself.


It's funny how every philosopher has to believe to have found the basic question of philosophy in order to philosophise.


I find useful to think about modern philosophy as a branch of literature. NEETzsche said philosophy is mostly biographical and I agree, so it's common that we see so many different philosophies and systems from different "axioms" or premises. The philosopher is a man of flesh and bone like Miguel de Unamuno said, the philosopher is after all only a man who is gonna die and suffer, not an AI or a robot so of course a big part of philosophy is subjective and more similar to literature than to science. But it's enjoyable and stuff imo. It's a big part of the soul and charming of philosophy itself.


Heraclitus Fragments, One Robe, One Bowl: The Zen Poetry of Ryokan, Enchiridion

Yep, I felt the exact same way when I first read it. Some authors you can just tell were spiritual (or actual) wizards. If you want something lighter read Welcome to the N.H.K., the novel the anime was based on. The author was an actual hiki when he wrote it and I won't spoil anything but the epilogue he writes a few years after the book's original publication is a sobering lesson for us all.


I'm reading Pedro Salinas spanish translation


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>On the Heights of Despair, Emil Cioran

As I have already stated, Cioran wrote the same book several times. He always touches the topic of the sense of amazement, anguish and despair towards the condition of existing and the mystery of being. Rather than trying to be a philosopher and starting lines of reasoning, Cioran dwells in the sensations and organic reaction produced in ourselves when confronted with this vast unknown condition of being. We are hopelessly unarmed and unable to comprehend or establish a complete theory of metaphysics. Cioran just explores painstakingly the reaction and the compartments in our souls. In this book, Cioran is particularly good at that. He writes little essays that are meticulous descriptions about his probably own inner experience. The despair produced by this cosmic bewilderment and solitude is traduced in pulsations in the nerves, muscles and hearth. He's loyal to the title, this book is a study about despair.

>There are no arguments. Can anyone who has reached the limit bother with arguments, causes, effects, moral considerations, and so forth? Of course not. For such a person there are only unmotivated motives for living. On the heights of despair, the passion for the absurd is the only thing that can still throw a demonic light on chaos. When all the current reasons—moral, esthetic, religious, social, and so on—no longer guide one's life, how can one sustain life without succumbing to nothingness? Only by a connection with the absurd, by love of absolute uselessness, loving something which does not have substance but which simulates an illusion of life. I live because the mountains do not laugh and the worms do not sing.

>The deepest and most organic death is death in solitude, when even light becomes a principle of death. In such moments you will be severed from life, from love, smiles, friends and even from death. And you will ask yourself if there is anything besides the nothingness of the world and your own nothingness.

>I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece. I would like to melt in the world and for the world to melt orgasmically in me and thus in our delirium to engender an apocalyptic dream, strange and grandiose like all crepuscular visions. Let our dream bring forth mysterious splendors and triumphant shadows, let a general conflagration swallow the world, and let its flames generate crepuscular pleasures as intricate as death and as fascinating as nothingness.

> seriously ask myself, What is the meaning of all this? Why raise questions, throw lights, or see shadows? Wouldn't it be better if I buried my tears in the sand on a seashore in utter solitude? But I never cried, because my tears have always turned into thoughts. And my thoughts are as bitter as tears.

>Despair is the state in which anxiety and restlessness are immanent to existence. Nobody in despair suffers from “problems”, but from his own inner torment and fire. It’s a pity that nothing can be solved in this world. Yet there never was and there never will be anyone who would commit suicide for this reason. So much for the power that intellectual anxiety has over the total anxiety of our being! That is why I prefer the dramatic life, consumed by inner fires and tortured by destiny, to the intellectual, caught up in abstractions which do not engage the essence of our subjectivity. I despise the absence of risks, madness and passion in abstract thinking. How fertile live, passionate thinking is! Lyricism feeds it like blood pumped into the heart!


Longerich doesn't explain enough (or maybe G. didn't elaborate in his diaries) why Dostojevski made such a strong impression on Goebbels. I'd really like to read his diaries, but I don't know Germany well enough.

I can see why he would liked Crime and Punishment, but why Idiot (this is also especially mentioned)? Because the prince is purest and most honest slavophile (which was and is pretty different from European nationalism) and thru this the ideal man of vision?

From Longerich biography of G. it becomes very clear that even aside from Dostojevski and other Russian writers, he was a russophile. But not enough I quess to steer away from Hitler once he became The Man of Destiny for him.

Rosenberg as a Baltic German was on many occassion also disgusted by Goebbels positive views of Muscovism and Russians and even the Bolshevik takeover of the country.


I started reading a lot of classical literature and I think this is the ultimate NEET hobby in many ways. I know everyone relates NEET hobbies to mostly watching anime and vidya but think about it. You need tons of free time to read and properly enjoy classic literature books, especially big fat books from the 1800s. Plus you can have additional fun reading about the lore and there are usually millions of pages written about every single detail of the characters / the plot / the book / the context. Reading War & Peace by Tolstoi as a NEET with no worries is a really comfy experience.


I agree with you that reading old books is really comfy there is something magical about them.When you read them you feel like ,time traveling to books era


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If you fellas want an ultra comfy book from around that era check out Xavier de Maistre's "A Journey Around My Room" which he wrote while he was in house arrest for 42 days for fighting a duel (possibly over a succubus). It's just him "exploring" his room out of boredom and it's got some beautiful passages that reveal parts of his life story and his surprisingly gentle character


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> The Decay of the Angel, Yukio Mishima

This is the final volume of the Sea of Fertility tetralogy. Honda is now a retired old judge. He finds a boy named Toru that works in a port watching and taking notice of the ships arriving. Upon watching on him the same moles that Kiyoaki, Isao and Ying Chan had, he decides to adopt this boy thinking he is another reincarnation of them.
But Toru doesn't share the same romantic and passionate nature of the previous reincarnations, he's rather sadistic, manipulative and selfish. Toru isn't guided by any noble ideal, he's framing how to get rid of Honda to inherit all his wealth.

Keiko, that was previously informed by Honda about the line of reincarnation he witnessed, tells Toru that Honda believes he's a reincarnation of the aforementioned persons and if he doesn't die before he turns 20 years old he will prove himself to be a fake. This deeply hurts the pride of Toru and subsequently he tries to commit suicide but he fails, proving then that he's not part of that line.

Honda also falls in disgrace when his voyeurism is made public. When he presages that death is near, he visits the temple where Satoko retired many years ago after the incident with Kiyoaki, and then the conclusion of this journey is dismal: nothing happened at all, universe remains the same, unity is unchanged.

Through the course of the tetralogy we saw romantic portraits of passion, heroism, immolation but after that we also saw ugliness, pettiness,ageing and a feeling of uselessness that permeates all. Mishima was a very interesting and troubled man and one wonders if his death was an act of romanticism, passion, despair, nihilism or all this combined.


That sounds a bit similar to Against Nature by Huysmans. The main character is a rich NEET who spends the entirety of the story (save for one chapter) at home. Every chapter is either about him gushing over some sort of hobby of his or reminiscing about a past experience.


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Hey wiz, it's been about 20 days since you made that post. I'm sorry I just saw you replied to me. How's your reading going? Still enjoying it? Did you drop it?

It's a ridiculously long book, quite a challenge even though the stories are very easy to follow. I can honestly say it's still my favorite literary book of all times.


I've been meaning to read that for a couple years, but like everything else I keep procrastinating. Thematically it might be a bit similar but from what I know Huysmans was more cynical while Xavier was somewhat of a romantic, also Against Nature is presumably way better in a literary sense since Xavier wasn't a novelist but a military man


A biography of Pessoa has just been published this year by his translator Richard Zenith. It's pretty good from what I've read, and very detailed.


Thanks I'll check that out, although I'm always scared to learn about my favorite authors' lives in case they turn out to be lame.

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