C***ider the Lobster（I***N=9780316013321） mobi 下载 网盘 caj lrf pdf txt 阿里云

　　Do lobsters feel pain? Did Franz Kafka have a funny bone? What

is John Updike's deal, anyway? And what happens when *** video

starlets meet their fans in person? David Foster Wallace answers

these questi*** and more in essays that are also enthralling

narrative adventures. Whether covering the three-ring circus of a

vicious presidential race, plunging into the wars between

dictionary writers, or confronting the World's Largest Lobster

Cooker at the annual Maine Lobster Festival, Wallace projects a

quality of thought that is uniquely his and a voice as powerful and

distinct as any in American letters.

Big Red Son

Certainly the End of Something or Other,One Would Sort of Have to

Think

Some Remarks on Kafka's Funniness from Which ProbablyNot Enough Has

Been Removed

Authority and American Usage

The View from Mrs. Thompson's

How TracyAustin Broke My Heart

Up, Simba

　　David Foster Wallace was born in Ithaca, New York, in 1962 and

raised in Illinois, where he was a regionally ranked junior tennis

player. He received bachelor of arts degrees in philosophy and

English from Amherst College and wrote what would become his first

novel, The Broom of the System, as his senior English

thesis. He received a masters of fine arts from University of

Arizona in 1987 and briefly pursued graduate work in philosophy at

Harvard University. His second novel, Infinite Jest, was

published in 1996. Wallace taught creative writing at Emerson

College, Illinois State University, and Pomona College, and

published the story collecti*** Girl with Curious Hair, Brief

Interviews with Hideous Men, and Oblivion and the essay

collecti*** A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again and

C***ider the Lobster. He was awarded the MacArthur

Fellowship, a Lannan Li***ry Award, and a Whiting Writers' Award,

and was appointed to the Usage Panel for The American Heritage

Dictionary of the English Language. He died in 2008. His last

novel, The Pale King, was published in 2011.

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** What exactly does “faith” mean? As in “religious faith,” “faith in God,” etc. Isn’t it basically crazy to believe in something that there’s no proof of? Is there really any difference between what we call faith and some primitive tribe’s sacrificing ***s to volcanoes because they believe it’ll produce good weather? How can somebody have faith before he’s presented with sufficient reason to have faith? Or is somehow needing to have faith a sufficient reason for having faith? But then what kind of need are ...

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Helping [most college writers] eliminate the [most persistent and damaging error] involves drumming into student writers two big injuncti***: (1) Do not presume that the reader can read your mind -- anything that you want the reader to visualize or c***ider or conclude, you must provide; (2) Do not presume that the reader feels the same way that you do about a given experience or issue -- your argument cannot just assume as true the very things you're trying to argue for.

Because (1) and (2) seem so *** and obvious, it may surprise you to know that they are actually incredibly hard to get students to understand in such a way that the principles inform thei***riting. The reason for the difficulty is that, in the abstract (1) and (2) are intellectual, whereas in practice they are more th...

He and Hecuba ended up over coffee, and when H.H. finally cleared his throat and asked the cop why such an obviously decent fellow squarely on the side of the law and civic virtue was a porn fan, the detective confessed that what drew him to the films was “the faces,” i.e. the actresses’ faces, i.e. those rare moments in ***asm or accidental tenderness when the starlets dropped their stylized “fuck-me-I’m-a-nasty-girl” sneer and became, suddenly, real people. “Sometimes—and you never know when, is the thing—sometimes all of a sudden they’ll kind of reveal themselves” was the detective’s way of putting it. “Thei***hat-do-you-call … humanness.” It turned out the LAPD detective found *** films moving, in fact far more so than most mainstream Hollywood movies, in which latter films actors—so...

It’s very easy to gloss over the PoW thing, partly because we’ve heard so much about it and partly because it’s so off the charts dramatic, like something in a movie instead of a man’s life. But it’s worth c***idering for a moment, because it’s what makes McCain’s “causes greater than self-interest” line easier to hear.

You probably already know what happened. In October of ‘67 McCain was himself still a Young Voter and flying his 23rd Vietnam combat mission and his A-4 Skyhawk plane got s*** down over Hanoi and he had to eject, which basically means setting off an explosive charge that blows your seat out of the plane, which ejection broke both of McCain’s arms and one leg and gave him a concussion and he started falling out of the skies over Hanoi.

Try to imagine how much this would ...

But if you, like poor old Rolling Stone, have come to a point on the Trail where you've started fearing your own cynicism almost as much as you fear your own credulity and the salesmen who feed on it, you may find your thoughts returning again and again to a certain dark and box-sized cell in a certain Hilton half a world and three careers away, to the torture and fear and offer of release and a certain Young Voter named McCain's refusal to violate a Code. There were no techs' cameras in that box, no aides or c***ultants, no paradoxes or gray areas; nothing to sell. There was just one guy and whatever in his character sustained him. This is a huge deal. In your mind, that Hoa Lo box becomes sort of a special dressing room with a star on the door, the private place behind the stage where on...

书籍介绍

Do lobsters feel pain? Did Franz Kafka have a funny bone? What is John Updike's deal, anyway? And what happens when *** video starlets meet their fans in person? David Foster Wallace answers these questi*** and more in essays that are also enthralling narrative adventures. Whether covering the three-ring circus of a vicious presidential race, plunging into the wars between dictionary writers, or confronting the World's Largest Lobster Cooker at the annual Maine Lobster Festival, Wallace projects a quality of thought that is uniquely his and a voice as powerful and distinct as any in American letters.