So who was the real Agatha Christie? Because Christie wrote the lines, “You know, you’re the sort of woman who ought to be raped. It might do you good,” under a pseudonym, the Telegraph‘s Laura Thompson appears to be in a great uproar. I’m not sure whether these striking lines say anything in particular about Christie as a person. (It is a common fallacy to equate a writer’s personality with the dark and disturbing things a writer sets down to paper.) Personally, I won’t be impressed until someone reveals that Christie managed to schtup half the men in Berkshire and single-handedly stopping a seditious affront to Mother England during her mysterious disappearance.
And speaking of Levi, this consideration of Richard Bach is madness. I was there when the friend in question screamed in horror. Levi held the book. There was a strange Zen-like grimace on his face, as if Levi had just finished having tea with the Dalai Lama. I had been talking with someone and stood silent and slackjawed and horrified when Levi then declared to all of us that Jonathan Livingston Seagull “wasn’t so bad.” I was then forced to exorcise the book so that Levi would be protected from future influence. Things proceeded okay from there. Let this be a lesson. Richard Bach is a dangerous man. Pick up his work at your own peril.
Jenny D is quite right about Gibson. Gibson’s houses are built on firm foundations of language and rhythm, and I think it can be sufficiently argued that his conceptual associations are likewise rooted upon these preternatural cadences.
Ah callow youth! Why are you so goddam non-rebellious when the world’s in the shitter? 64% of these little bastards “wake up happy?” Sixty-four percent? Christ, the generation after mine is disappointing the hell out of me. We were cynical as fuck and that was during the Clinton years! Maybe Charles Rangel is right. Maybe we should reinstate the draft just to give these smug little fucks a wakeup call. BLAM BLAM BLAM! What do you think of that, eh? If you want your nonfat hazelnut latte and your TiVo options, you’re going to have to march through the goddam DMZ to get them! HOW ABOUT THAT? Oh, what’s that? You need to go to the infirmary? Well, now that you’re in the middle of the GREAT CLUSTERFUCK YOU’VE BEEN GLEEFULLY IGNORING, that ought to put a damper on the whole “wake up happy” scenario, eh?