Blogging the Bookshelf » American

We Are The People You’re Talking About – “Revolutionary Road” – Richard Yates

Tim — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 05:15:05 +0000

I remember looking at you and thinking ‘God, if only he’d stop talking.’ Because everything you said was based on this great premise of ours that we’re somehow very special and superior to the whole thing, and I wanted to say ‘But we’re not! Look at us! We’re just like the people you’re talking about! We are the people you’re talking about!’ I sort of had – I don’t know, contempt for you, because you couldn’t see the terrific fallacy of the thing.

To be honest, I didn’t really get into this book. It came to me highly recommended and I was enthusiastic, but for some reason it just didn’t click. Maybe I’m too far removed, but I just didn’t buy the protagonists as believable characters. Thought they were a bit cartoonish.That being said – this quote definitely rung true with me.

Afraid to Merge - “Less than Zero” – Brett Easton Ellis

Tim — Fri, 12 Aug 2011 07:31:06 +0000

People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles. This is the first thing I hear when I come back to the city. Blair picks me up from LAX and mutters this under her breath as she drives up the onramp. She says, “People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles.” Though that sentence shouldn’t bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I’m eighteen and it’s December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered on the legs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair’s clean tight jeans and her pale-blue shirt. All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge than “I’m pretty sure Muriel is anorexic” or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blair’s car. All it comes down to is the fact that I’m a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven’t seen for four months and people are afraid to merge.

Man is Not Made for Defeat – “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway

Tim — Sat, 14 May 2011 07:30:06 +0000

“But man is not made for defeat,” he said. “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”

What a Man Can Do and Endure – “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway

Tim — Sat, 14 May 2011 04:00:06 +0000

“I’ll kill him though,” he said. “In all his greatness and his glory.” Although it is unjust, he thought. But I will show him what a man can do and what a man endures.

The Fish - “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway

Tim — Sat, 14 May 2011 00:30:06 +0000

The line rose slowly and steadily and then the surface of the ocean bulged ahead of the boat and the fish came out. He came out unendingly and water poured from his sides. He was bright in the sun and his head and back were dark purple and in the sun the stripes on his sides showed wide and a light lavender. His sword was as long as a baseball bat and tapered like a rapier and he rose his full length from the water and then re-entered it, smoothly, like a diver and the old man saw the great scythe-blade of his tail go under and the line commenced to race out.

Bringing in the Fish – “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway

Tim — Fri, 13 May 2011 07:30:06 +0000

Then he began to pity the great fish that he had hooked. He is wonderful and strange and who knows how old he is, he thought. Never have I had such a strong fish nor one who acted so strangely. Perhaps he is too wise to jump. He could ruin me by jumping or by a wild rush. But perhaps he has been hooked many times before and he knows that this is how he should make his fight. He cannot know that it is only one man against him, nor that it is an old man. But what a great fish he is and what will he bring in the market if the flesh is good. He took the bait like a male and he pulls like a male and his fight has no panic in it. I wonder if he has any plans or if he is just as desperate as I am?

First You Borrow, Then You Beg – “The Old Man and the Sea” – Ernest Hemingway

Tim — Fri, 13 May 2011 04:00:06 +0000

“One sheet. That’s two dollars and a half. Who can we borrow that from?”

“That’s easy. I can always borrow two dollars and a half.”

“I think perhaps I can too. But I try not to borrow. First you borrow. Then you beg.”

Goodbye - “Snow Falling on Cedars” – David Guterson

Tim — Wed, 11 May 2011 07:30:05 +0000

It was in her to say good-bye forever and tell him she would never see him again, to explain to him that she’d chosen to part because in his arms she felt unwhole. But she didn’t say it, that they had been too young, that they had not seen clearly, that they had allowed the forest and the beach to sweep them up, that all of it had been delusion all along, that she had not been who she was. Instead, unblinking, she looked at him, unable to hurt him in the way that was demanded and in some undefined way still loving what he was, his kindness, his seriousness, the goodness in his heart. He stood there, Ishmael, looking at her desperately, and that was the way she would remember him. Twelve years later she would still see him this way, standing at the edge of the strawberry fields beneath the cover of the silent cedars, a handsome boy with one arm outstretched, beckoning her to come back.

Inside the Cedar Tree - “Snow Falling on Cedars” – David Guterson

Tim — Wed, 11 May 2011 04:00:06 +0000

They lay beside each other in the cedar tree talking until half an hour had gone by. Then, once again, they kissed. They felt comfortable kissing inside the tree, and they kissed for another half hour. With the rain falling outside and the moss softly under him Ishmael shut his eyes and breathed the smell of her fully in through his nostrils. He told himself he had never felt so happy, and he felt a sort of ache that this was happening and would never again happen in just this way no matter how long he lived.

Deliberately Controlled Hysteria – “Snow Falling on Cedars” – David Guterson

Tim — Wed, 11 May 2011 00:30:06 +0000

Hatsue settled into missing her husband and learned the art of waiting over an extended period of time—a deliberately controlled hysteria that was something like what Ishmael Chambers felt watching her in the courtroom.