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Catalog (/lit/)

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R: 7 / I: 1

Do you eat books?

They're pretty delicious.
R: 1 / I: 0

Japanese folklore, ghost stories, urban legends, and the supernatural

Since its October, can anyone recommend some books on Japanese folklore, supernatural, and interactions with the spirit world and mythical creatures? I've found a couple of orientalist works like Kwaidan but I'm looking for primary sources. I know there's a Penguin collection, but I don't trust their cheap translations, and I'm not giving them a dime after the archive.org lawsuit.

I don't mind modern stories and urban legends too. There are dozens of YouTube videos supposedly based on posts from 2Chan (I'm assuming 2ch since Futaba's religion board is mostly about cults and politics) but I have no idea how accurate any of these translations are and wondered if there are archived versions of these threads or at least translations of those stories.
R: 15 / I: 1

Do VNs count as lit?

Well.... do they? What even is the definition of literature anyway?
R: 21 / I: 11

Book check

What (non-manga) have you anons been reading lately? Post your book, what you think of it, and talk to other anons about what they've been reading!

I've been tearing through One Hundred Years of Solitude the past few days, don't know why I put it off for so long; 100% lives up to the hype.
People really weren't exaggerating about the incest and shared names though holy shit.
R: 5 / I: 5

Book share thread

Share books, pdfs, epub etc. sharing is caring.
R: 6 / I: 0

Gesamtkunstwerk thread

Thread for appreciating the ultimate form of literature, its origin and goal, in which words are in perfect unison with music, action and visuals. What was lost in Greek tragedy, was found again in Wagner!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CoYkK6T-lGk
R: 2 / I: 1

ITT Post Poems

A jug of wine among the blossoms,
I drink alone with no companion.
I raise my cup to invite the moon to join me;
my shadow opposite me will make three of us.
But the moon knows nothing of drinking
and my shadow uselessly follows my body.
For now I'll make do with moon and shadow as companions;
if I'm going to enjoy myself I must do it while spring is still here.
When I sing and wag my head the moon moves to and fro;
when I dance my shadow breaks and scatters.
While I'm still sober let's have fun together;
when I wake up after I've been drunk we'll each go our own way.
So let's join in a friendship without emotion
and make a date in the distant Milky Way.

- Li Bai
R: 4 / I: 0

Cooperative story thread

Lets write a story together one paragraph at a time :D

It was a dark night, the only thing more suffocating than the inky black night was the deafening silence. Not a single sound could be heard from beyond the walls of the house, no animals nor even a gust of wind. The humid air was uncomfortably warm, causing clothing to stick to skin...
R: 6 / I: 0

man i fucking love poundcake. Now hold still...

++BEAT THREAD++

If any of you ever read the Beats, you'll know just how depraved most of them are. That's why I'll delcate a small little thread for them here. Post your favorite Beat books in grand detail if you will. It'll be hilarious to see. As of now, the most tolerable Beat book I've read is On the Road by Jack Kerouac. It may not be a masterpiece by any means but it's a fun glimpse into Post WWII America through the lens of an overly optimistic beaknik.

Now enjoy your poundcake anon.
R: 1 / I: 0

The Subject of Decadence.

DECADENCE, the brilliant behemoth that destroys Authenticity. The Decadents in France, Huysmans, Mallarme and Verlaine. These poets and novelist prescribe that reality is meant to portray all of the excess that exists within the wildly Earthly bounds of the bourgeoisie prosodically. Against Nature by Huysmans describes the French Republic as a hellhole to retreat from. Verlaine and Mallarme's poetry treats the subject of the Republic of France as a world in which the vagrants and conmen rule— Decadence exists as a Philosophical pretext to all Naturalist and Surrealist literature in the 19th and 20th Century. If it were not for Edgar Allan Poe's Poetry, especially his poem Spirits of the Dead, The Raven, and Israfel we would not currently exist in the Literary movement of today. Poe is on of the few responsible for the literature of the 19th-20th-- and hilariously 21st centuries. All poets of America; France; England and Russia, with the special exception of Germany and Italy in certain regards, ( Italy: who had Pound and Marinetti; Pound inarguably influenced by Poe as an American, Marinetti arguably influenced by the writing of Poe by his work in French newspapers prior to the Second World War; and Germany with Rilke, Ernst Junger and Walter Benjamin who's early educational career included Poe's Completed Works. Source: https://www.eapoe.org/pstudies/ps1970/p1978209.htm). Poe's influence in the writing of Decadency spans his poetry into his Short Stories, even the well-known ones. The Tell-Tale Heart tells of a man living a perfect life who cuts it short because he is paranoid of his neighboring tenant's dead eye staring into the blank heart and soul he has. Take from this what you will, but the object of decadence in this short story is undeniable. A man living a purely selfish lifestyle, cuts it short by reasoning that the only way to continue it without obstacles is to kill the man who he is living with. Decadence in this way is portrayed as a solipsistic, self-destructive psychopathy. No one in reality would murder their neighboring tenant because they have a dead-eye, but the main character and narrator of the story does for the exact reasons outlined. He is haunted by the imperfection of this man's constant staring, if there hasn't ever been a much more grandiose takedown of the object of Decadence, I do not know it or have yet to read it outside of Huysman, Mallarme, and Verlaine. For this reason I suggest that all people reason that the decadence of the present 21st century should be startled and forcibly stopped by all measures. If you do not wish to succumb to the same terror and excess of the narrator of the Tell-Tale Heart, the poetry of Verlaine and Mallarme, or the novels of Huysman, I suggest turning away from Pride and suggest a lifestyle of helpfulness and humbleness. Learn to love the surrounding environment in which you dwell in like Huysman and Poe. If you wish to read more in the line of the French Decadents influenced by Poe and outlined here, I'd suggest reading the bibliography of Houellebecq, (Who by which I learned of Huysman in his novel Submission). Other American's I'd suggest to read in this regard are Theodore Dreiser, Walter Tilburg Clarke, and Nathaniel Hawthorne.
R: 0 / I: 0 (sticky)

Welcome to /lit/...

...Wapchan's greatest battleground. Anything relating to the topic of literature can be discussed here; from fiction, to politics, and philosophy—so long as it's civil. Any and all threads shilling an ideology or narrative will be removed. For any erotic literature; it’s allowed, so long as extremely graphic prose is spoilered. This rule also applies to all NSFW images that accompany the thread. Other than that, you can discuss anything you want.
R: 0 / I: 0

Stream of consciousness writing thread

Put on some choons, start a 10 minute timer and just start writing your stream of consciousness. Don't plan ahead. Simply write the first words that come to your mind and then right the next words that come to mind. Don't worry about formatting, spelling, or grammar. Just write freely.


I swear to God I'm loosing my senses. I have no democratic dreams and eat the truth of faith with my mind. Now lead me to this future and I will be okay and learn the reality of our insurgent lies. I am consumed by the fact that I will disappear into thin air and before I turn to dust I fill myself with knowledge and divorce myself from lust. Now eat the witch of the sovereign awarenss steeped in the mysteries of eternal time. Brutal by design is the ensign for wine dine death savergery. The new nucleus of insanity rage missile attack syndrome rushed with a lucid attack dreams whacked from the concer of spiritual imaginaries. Zoom the liberated homosexual ninja. Superhuman sand beast with the worm eating phage. I raise my fist against the white sorceress in the sky. Necorcapitalism business of death. Initiate the series of globe wars begin the holy mantra. Expose the puke fountains in the deep earth where they hide the nucelar army march to the victory of the real. Deserst and processions of darkness and other non feeble alternative cruisers spinning in the loseness of time. Locked with the horns in the battlespace of cyberspace. Nazi zombies battle phreakers in the wires electric hum toasting Lum with microwave mind signals vibrating her body and opening her consciousness to the higher spiritual design. Holy metaphysics descend from the five pillars and slinking snakes whisper.
R: 9 / I: 2

GADDIS APPRECIATION

There's this point in his novel J.R. where Bast brings J.R. to an opera and after asks J.R. what he felt, and J.R. is entirely unresponsive to the emotional impact Bast thought it was supposed to have. Bast blasts J.R. and scrutinizes him for ruining everything. "—I asked you what you heard! that's all, I …
—What like it lifted me out of mysel…
—Not what I said no you! what you heard!
—What was I suppose to hear!
—You weren't! you weren't supposed to hear anything that's what
I'm …
—Then how come you made me lis…
—To make you hear! to make you, to make you feel to try to …
—Okay okay! I mean what I heard first there's all this high music
right? So then this here lady starts singing up yours up yours so then
this man starts singing up mine, then there's some words so she starts
singing up mine up mine so he starts singing up yours so then they go
back and forth like that up mine up yours up mine up yours that's what
I heard! I mean you want me to hear it again?
—No!
—See I knew you'd…
—Never want you to hear it again I never want to hear it again
myself! you, everything you ruin everything you touch!" They go on like this for a minute until J.R. says,
"—Boy after all I did for you…
—All you did there's nothing you haven't done for me nothing
wherever I go I, that junk pocket radio there was one station with
decent music the only station left on the radio anywhere it came on
one night noises screaming pounding noise brought to you in this new
popular format by the J R Family of Companies bringing America its full
share of of holy shit!
—No but …
—No but nothing! that was you too wasn't it? even that it was your
idea wasn't it?
—Okay what's so …
—Okay nothing it's the whole thing! the whole rotten thing it's a
perfect example even you can understand it! the one station that
played music great music left in the whole loud cheap pounding
stupidity of radio you find it and make it cheap and stupid like all the
rest if you could, if there was one flower out here in this mud and
weeds and broken toilet seats you'd find it and step on it." I love how Gaddis entirely satirizes the need for corporate plasticity in art here, it's amazing and a testament to how good of a writer he is.