Katabasis

by R.F. Kuang

“I’ve never thought about texts like this before.” “What, in terms of close reading?” “I just mean—I don’t know, taking into account when they were written, and the author’s social context, and such.” “Historicization, Murdoch. That’s what we call it. What, do you just take everything you read at face value?” “I mean, if the math checks out.” “Unbelievable,” said Alice. “This is why everyone hates logicians.”

No one admitted to watching television. No one kept up with pop culture. No one admitted to their professors that they were going on dates (to admit to being a sexual creature at all was so humiliating!). Those few who were married mentioned their wives and children with great embarrassment, and only to assure skeptics that the wives were managing the children. No one even admitted to liking the taste of food, which perhaps explained why the department only ever catered Yorkshire puddings that tasted of sand.

Deep down she suspected being in love just was two people lying to each other, concealing their violence,

YOWCH

It was in the midnight hours, when the mind fractured and things stopped making sense and the boundaries of the possible became fluid, that they did their best work. And in these hours, Alice experienced for the first time what she thought it might be like to fall in love.

And if falling in love was discovery, was letting yourself be discovered the equivalent to being loved?

What you must realize, Alice, is that you cannot just take refuge in feminism when it suits you.”

“I’m not sure the Furies have read Foucault,” said the chairman. “You must consider your audience.”

“You should be kinder to your creations.”

“Go on,” said Lord Yama. “Be careful you do not look back.” “Really?” asked Alice. “I’m only joking,” said Lord Yama. “Look however much you want. Go on.”