That book is great.
OK, a few parts are bullshit, but for the most part it’s great. Because O’Brien makes many good points but also stays tongue-in-cheek.
I don’t know why Good Show Sir has this up as a bad book cover. This is amazing. If it didn’t say “L. Ron Hubbard” on it I’d read it in a heartbeat.
Guy N. Smith’s infamous pulp-horror “classic” Killer Crabs series, Dell reprints from the 1980s.
This is so great.
Find that thing you’re passionate about, and do that for the rest of your life.
I can’t stop thinking about Garth Marenghi.
“Bigger And Crabbier Than Ever” is a t-shirt I would pay good money for.
I might genuinely have to read these.
Balthazar, Lawrence Durrell
Balthazar is the second of four novels - each telling the same story from a difference perspective - in Lawrence Durrell’s Magnum opus: ‘The Alexandria Quartet.’ In this novel, Darley, from whose viewpoint the first novel Justine is told, is forced to revisit, re-evaluate and revise his previous interpretation of the past when his Alexandrian friend Balthazar pays an unexpected visit to his Corfu island retreat.
Durrell presents multiple perspectives in his Quartet, creating what he described as a “stereoscopic effect,” to give a greater sense of verisimilitude. However, whilst more knowledge is gained with each novel; Durrell, perversely, also makes the reader aware - that by its transient and unstable nature - the truth is ultimately elusive.
Like the past Durrell writes about, so too has his Quartet undergone continuous reinterpretation. A commercial and critical success at the time of its initial publication; it later fell out of fashion; and is currently enjoying something of a revival, including being selected last year for discussion and analysis by The Guardian Reading Group.
The book in the photographs is a First Edition, second impression, published by Faber in 1958 with a jacket design by Berthold Wolpe.
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2013 is the year I’m finally reading this series.
Honoré Daumier, from Némésis médicale illustrée (illustrated medical nemesis) vol. 2, by François Fabre, Paris, 1840.
I’m trying to wrap my head around what this is supposed to mean. I can’t.
“For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.”
— James Baldwin
She’s reading “Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion de desesperada y cien sonetos de amor,” by Pablo Neruda. He’s reading “Time Travel and Warp Drives: A Scientific Guide to Shortcuts through Time and Space,” by Allen Everett and Thomas Roman.
Whoa. Where’d he get that tie?
Miss Rotundity shews fight.
Phiz (Hablot Knight Browne), from The commissioner: or, De lunatico inquirendo, by G. P. R. James, Dublin, 1843.
Is she hitting him with a snake?
It is all very well to talk of the Unknown and the Infinite whereof we are assured we are the heirs, but that does not make it any easier for us to part with the Known and the Finite. The contemplation of the wonders of Eternity does not conceal the advantages of actual and existent Time. In short there is no one of us, from a sainted archbishop down to a sinful suicide, who does not regret the necessity of farewell to the pleasant light and the kindly race of men wherewith we are acquainted.
For after all, who can be quite certain of the Beyond? It may be splendid, but it will probably be strange, and from strangeness, after a certain age, we shrink. We know that all things will be different there; that our human relationships will be utterly changed, that perhaps sex which shapes so many of them, will vanish to be replaced by something unknown, that ambitions will lose their hold of us, and that, at the best, the mere loss of hopes and fears will leave us empty. So at least we think, who seek not variation but continuance, since the spirit must differ from the body and that thought alarms our intelligence.
- H. Rider Haggard, When the World Shook. (You can read more here; this quote is from a part of the book not inclued in the physical HiLoBrow copy.)
Fantastic Adventures, December, 1945
It looks like that dinosaur alien is crying blood. So metal.