Sam > Recent Status Updates

"'It's so rare,' the Duchess of Orléans declared happily, 'for intellectuals to be smartly dressed, and not to smell, and to understand jokes.'" Some things never change I guess.

At this point, Liana's bosom has been lovingly described so often as to become a character all it's own.

"I drink, therefore I am." Another alternative title for this book.

"And he wondered whether someone, some twisted novelist or drunken writer of cheap screenplays, at that very moment saw him as an imaginary character in an imaginary world who thought he wasn't real." The best fourth wall breaks are always the fourth wall breaks that authors use to drag themselves.

I am enjoying this book in places, but between the moments of pleasure are long dry spells of dullness. I find I'm not invested in what's happening or who it's happening to.

"What I need is more gin." The real title of this novel.

Part of me thinks one could make a very fun drinking game out of this book, doing a shot every time Corso pours a gin or puffs a cigarette, but then the other, more reasonable part of me points out that I would have to get my stomach pumped every single chapter. Gotta respect this dude's commitment to Bols.

This book would make for an excellent animated film. I can almost see Fargas' dilapidated home and his exaggerated anguish.

Corso may be insufferable, but this book is hella atmospheric.

"For a widow who'd spent her schooldays doing needlework, Liana Taillefer didn't seem shocked by his language." He said his job was a bit like being a whore. Is this book set in 1993 or 1893? I have so many questions.

"She must be after something, to put on such a display." Literally all she did was sit down. I hate this guy.

This book reminds me of Frankenstein in that if its author realizes its protagonist is an exhausting asshole, it is truly a magnificent piece of art, but if the author is playing this character straight it is just another shrine to the boring mediocrity of men. 120 pages in and I still haven't decided which this is.

Because the natural response to nearly being murdered is to get more gin-drunk than you already are. Taking a shot every time this guy swills gin or puffs a cigarette would be a fun drinking game if it wouldn't land you in the hospital after ten pages.

Ah, the old Fat People Are Inherently Bad trope. Hello darkness my old friend~

Even if I didn't know the author of this book was a man, reading the descriptions of the women in this book would tell me the author of this book was a man.

This book has a very moody, noir feeling to it and I love it.

I haven't loathed a book's main character so much since reading Frankenstein. But as with Frankenstein, the story and its author seem much more aware of their narrator's flaws than the man himself, and the whole thing is so well-written and intriguing and provocative that I want to go on and unravel its mysteries and every grisly detail in spite of how much I genuinely despise the asshat telling me this story.