Vol 3.1
There’s a good case to be made that this is the least translatable German book of the last century.
If you have one hour and you write for that whole hour, suddenly there is a book or at least part of a book, and when you have part of a book, you can always finish it.
You're a man now, I'm your blanket.
The value of lived experience, an epistemological commodity I was assumed to have in quantity.
From this angle, it’s almost as if the narrative itself—an ethereal ghost story and a cautionary tale about land grabs—is inconsequential to the book’s real currency: its paradoxically prominent underappreciation.
The dragon named communism, the final boss of history.
Perhaps the literary community needs a lot more of the absurd, even in spades, and perhaps especially in relation to economics.
Drug-eating is now drug consumption. Where "eating" implies a loamy process of co-constitution, "consumption" is a rote expression of your identity.
American cinema is nothing short of the dramatization of the desires and fears of an entire people.
The film cannot be said to be interested in persuading anybody of anything.
An error in the game was the realest feature. It formed a foundation. The developers thought how American. How reckless.