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- Slow Ride (Playing for Keeps, #1) by Cathryn Fox
Sleep tight! By Kazuo Ishiguro Because of questions like this: "How can you ask a world that has come to regard cancer as curable, how can you ask such a world to put away that cure, to go back to the dark days? By Neal Stephenson Because this story of working-class girl makes good in a gritty, segregated slum run by guys with guns in their foreheads might as well be a Quentin Tarantino flick. By Shirley Jackson Evil dressed up in its Sunday best.
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If Flannery O'Connor had written stories about whole towns rather than individuals, they would have read like this. By Margaret Atwood What if, instead of founding Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg had invented a new race of hominids and killed off the rest of us to give them a chance at survival? The social fabric that prevents us from being unbelievably horrible to one another is so thin that it's perpetually on the verge of coming undone.
Saramago shows us just how easy it would be to pull the first thread. By Haruki Murakami The soldiers had failed to finish the tigers off with a single volley. Snapping out of their trance, the soldiers pulled back on their rifle levers, ejecting spent shells, and took aim again. By Philip K. Dick Everything Philip K.
Ten Things I Wish I Knew When I Started 'Destiny 2: Forsaken'
Dick wrote is like a bad dream and a good dream at the same time. Or a bad trip and a good trip at the same time.
Or, like, what if humans and androids were totally the same and also not the same, and the fundamental question of what makes a human human doesn't even make sense, man? Did you ever think about that? By Ursula K. Le Guin Any society that had eternal peace, free sex, and universal happiness would have to have a secret this awful. And we'd all like to think we'd be the ones who wouldn't accept it. By Kurt Vonnegut Jr. By Tom Chiarella.
Great guy. Creative writing professor. Steals books though. In , when I was 12 years old, I stole a copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions from my aunt Betsy's mantle and read it in a day and a half. It was the first book I ever really chose, first book I really read with a greed for the ideas inside it. Best cover ever, as far as I'm concerned.
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I'd know that book from a thousand paces. I stole it from my aunt after seeing it from across the room. This was before Wikipedia, of course, but even then we had a need to know. Rosewater ; and the single most dog-eared book I have ever come across in all my years of reading: Welcome to the Monkey House, the collection of Vonnegut's short stories. It was in three pieces, Scotch- and masking-taped into a hopeful tablet. The pages were bent, with flipped corners, and written on, underlined, and marked up with hot little stars by three different pens. People love that book. They steal most copies we get.
I'd read my share of books by then, but I'd never even heard of a short story. I read the magazines and left them there, started the novel but I thought it was gassy and serious, so I left it there too. I took that used-up edition of Welcome to the Monkey House home with me, and I never took it back. Kurt Vonnegut's best stories and Welcome to the Monkey House contains the bulk of them are hyperboles of love, or science-fiction fables and manifestos, torqued-up conceits run amok within the pretty narrow strictures of his plain-Jane prose.
The best ones feel like they come from a writer imagined rather than real—as if they were written by the fictional sci-fi writer Kilgore Trout, I suppose, Vonnegut's nightshade image of himself. I'd never read a book like it. Never tumbled from one story to the next with the hope that it might be even better. Never lived in a circus of the absurd the way I did with that collection.
I sometimes think I live there still. His later essays and letters sometimes seemed incomprehensible, and as an older guy who traveled in literate and literary circles, I learned to not mention him as one of my favorites. Vonnegut was openly pooh-poohed in the stripped-down fluorescent light of the minimalist s and the return of the big novel that followed.
I let him drift out of my head until his death in I still believe the work in Welcome to the Monkey House is his very best. It goes end to end on the guy.
In the time he took to write all that and more, Vonnegut became the man he would remain: former soldier, family man, cranky recluse, unapologetic socialist, artist with pencil, commentator, and angry voice of common sense. He died revered, remembered, and reclaimed, the most moral writer of our age, a guy who was legitimately angry at us all because we weren't willing to start everything over again, since it had gone so wrong so fast.
Kurt Vonnegut left us with a fistful of masterpieces, too, of unforgettable short stories, iconoclastic in their day, iconic in ours. By Carol Emshwiller If humans are just animals, then it stands to reason that we could be tamed like animals. You'll never be able to look at your dog the same way again. By Michael Chabon Because Detective Meyer Landsman "has the memory of a convict, the balls of a fireman, and the eyesight of a housebreaker.
When there is crime to fight, [he] tears around Sitka like a man with his pant leg caught on a rocket.nauprom.gq
Slow Ride (Playing for Keeps, #1) by Cathryn Fox
It's like there's a film score playing behind him, heavy on the castanets. By George Saunders This note to future generations has been true forever: "Sometimes, in our time, families get into dark place. Family feels: we are losers, everything we do is wrong … This makes person Father doubt value of whole enterprise, i. Willow Wilson In a city that is essentially Cairo, the government's Internet censor is called the Hand of God, and its job is to "discover, dismantle, and subdue.
By Ray Bradbury By Walter M. Miller, Jr. The question it asks is the one we all ask: "Listen, are we helpless? Are we doomed to do it again and again and again? Catch, with stranger weapons. By Charles Yu In a future where the wealthy outsource pain and grief to the impoverished, a hard day at the office could go like this: "The lowlight of the day is when I get to be a woman. I get to tell my husband that I have been sleeping with my trainer for the last year.
The first year of our marriage. I get to see his face, watch him try to keep it together. Of all the types of tickets, this is the worst. By Frank Herbert Imagine that there was a substance on earth that had all the usefulness of petroleum and also made people live longer and allowed them to see the future. Now imagine how much we'd fight over it. There are novels I like, and novels I love. Sports plays happen fast, and athletes develop the skills needed to make effective snap decisions. Any athlete who has played in a championship game knows the meaning of pressure.
This ability to function under pressure translates to person who is better at making deadlines and working in stressful situations in the future.