Vol 3.1
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.
Desire renders life like a poem: it collapses space and time, it calls into focus images, sensations, new voices and forms of seeing and saying something.
There’s a good case to be made that this is the least translatable German book of the last century.
You're a man now, I'm your blanket.
An error in the game was the realest feature. It formed a foundation. The developers thought how American. How reckless.
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.
The value of lived experience, an epistemological commodity I was assumed to have in quantity.
The film cannot be said to be interested in persuading anybody of anything.
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.
Queering the relationship between form and genre, troubling the notion of what makes a novel, working through questions of queerness and bodies and desire and space and language on the page.