Benjamin S. Farmer

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Benjamin S. Farmer

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Member Since
March 2012

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Average rating: 4.09 · 11 ratings · 9 reviews · 2 distinct worksSimilar authors
The Anonymous City

really liked it 4.00 avg rating — 10 ratings — published 2012 — 3 editions
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The Wall - A graphic Novel

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it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2012
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Insane
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Benjamin Farmer finished reading
Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
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Benjamin Farmer is on page 18 of 360 of Insane
Insane by Rainald Goetz
Insane
by Rainald Goetz
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Benjamin Farmer has read
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
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The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
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Benjamin Farmer is currently reading
Insane by Rainald Goetz
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Benjamin Farmer rated a book liked it
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
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Benjamin Farmer wants to read
Farenheit Says Nothing to Me by William Wall
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Benjamin Farmer rated a book it was amazing
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
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The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
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Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry
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More of Benjamin's books…
“From my own novel.


Because in the City, you know there is nothing else, it is a place without roads, without real people, without life. Just an abandoned wreck; desolate; isolated; unloved. Somewhere you go when there is no more life inside of you, when you have no choice, no . . . desire, no personality. It’s a place where you go to die, and after you’re dead, your body is left to rot, and get blown by the wind into nothing, and there is no heaven, no hell, just earth and dust, and insects crawling over your bleached bones . . . it’s bliss.”
Benjamin S. Farmer

“Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to fuck is infinite; it surpasses our own deaths, our fears, our hopes for peace.”
Roberto Bolaño

“Reading is like thinking, like praying, like talking to a friend, like expressing your ideas, like listening to other people's ideas, like listening to music, like looking at the view, like taking a walk on the beach.”
Roberto Bolaño, 2666

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“How ... how fragile situations are. But not tenuous. Delicate, but not flimsy, not indulgent. Delicate, that's why they keep breaking, they must break and you must get the pieces together and show it before it breaks again, or put them aside for a moment when something else breaks and turn to that, and all this keeps going on. That's why most writing now, if you read it they go on one two three four and tell you what happened like newspaper accounts, no adjectives, no long sentences, no tricks they pretend, and they finally believe that they really believe that the way they saw it is the way it is ... it never takes your breath away, telling you things you already know, laying everything out flat, as though the terms and the time, and the nature and the movement of everything were secrets of the same magnitude. They write for people who read with the surface of their minds, people with reading habits that make the smallest demands on them, people brought up reading for facts, who know what's going to come next and want to know what's coming next, and get angry at surprises. Clarity's essential, and detail, no fake mysticism, the facts are bad enough. But we're embarrassed for people who tell too much, and tell it without surprise. How does he know what happened? unless it's one unshaven man alone in a boat, changing I to he, and how often do you get a man alone in a boat, in all this ... all this ... Listen, there are so many delicate fixtures, moving toward you, you'll see. Like a man going into a dark room, holding his hands down guarding his parts for fear of a table corner, and ... Why, all this around us is for people who can keep their balance only in the light, where they move as though nothing were fragile, nothing tempered by possibility, and all of a sudden bang! something breaks. Then you have to stop and put the pieces together again. But you never can put them back together quite the same way. You stop when you can and expose things, and leave them within reach, and others come on by themselves, and they break, and even then you may put the pieces aside just out of reach until you can bring them back and show them, put together slightly different, maybe a little more enduring, until you've broken it and picked up the pieces enough times, and you have the whole thing in all its dimensions. But the discipline, the detail, it's just ... sometimes the accumulation is too much to bear.”
William Gaddis, The Recognitions

“I know you, I know you. You're the only serious person in the room, aren't you, the only one who understands, and you can prove it by the fact that you've never finished a single thing in your life. You're the only well-educated person, because you never went to college, and you resent education, you resent social ease, you resent good manners, you resent success, you resent any kind of success, you resent God, you resent Christ, you resent thousand-dollar bills, you resent Christmas, by God, you resent happiness, you resent happiness itself, because none of that's real. What is real, then? Nothing's real to you that isn't part of your own past, real life, a swamp of failures, of social, sexual, financial, personal...spiritual failure. Real life. You poor bastard. You don't know what real life is, you've never been near it. All you have is a thousand intellectualized ideas about life. But life? Have you ever measured yourself against anything but your own lousy past? Have you ever faced anything outside yourself? Life! You poor bastard.”
William Gaddis, The Recognitions

182685 The Feminist Orchestra Bookclub — 3837 members — last activity Feb 14, 2018 10:52AM
Discover and recommend more feminist reads here: https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/96419.The_Feminist_Orchestra_Potential_Reading_List We're also on ...more



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