By Lars Iyer
"A plague of rats, the tip of philosophy, the cosmic bird, and bars that do not serve Plymouth Gin--is this the Apocalypse or is it simply the United States? "The apocalypse is imminent," thinks W. He has committed his lifestyles to philosophy, yet he's approximately to be solid out from his loved college. His pal Lars isn't any support at all--he's too busy struggling with an infestation of rats in his flat. A drunken lecture journey via the American South proves to be one other big mistake. In desperation, the 2 British intellectuals flip to Dogma, a semi-religious code that will but provide intending to their lives. half Nietzsche, half Monty Python, half Huckleberry Finn, Dogma is a singular as ridiculous and profound as faith itself. The sequel to the acclaimed novel Spurious, Dogma is the second one booklet in a single of the main unique literary trilogies considering Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable"-- Read more...
summary: "A plague of rats, the tip of philosophy, the cosmic fowl, and bars that do not serve Plymouth Gin--is this the Apocalypse or is it simply the United States? "The apocalypse is imminent," thinks W. He has dedicated his lifestyles to philosophy, yet he's approximately to be forged out from his loved collage. His pal Lars is not any aid at all--he's too busy battling an infestation of rats in his flat. A drunken lecture travel during the American South proves to be one other significant mistake. In desperation, the 2 British intellectuals flip to Dogma, a semi-religious code that may but provide aspiring to their lives. half Nietzsche, half Monty Python, half Huckleberry Finn, Dogma is a singular as ridiculous and profound as faith itself. The sequel to the acclaimed novel Spurious, Dogma is the second one publication in a single of the main unique literary trilogies due to the fact that Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable"
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Extra resources for Dogma
Would that he had a similar tutor! Would that he had someone to list his betrayals and half-measures! The pelican of mythology feeds its young by tearing strips of its own flesh from its breast, W. says. And isn’t that how he’s fed me: by tearing strips of flesh from his own breast? How generous he’s been! How unselfish! But in the end, it’s left him even more alone, his generosity. In the end, a great, overfed chick is no company. The bus back to Nashville. Sounds of screaming. A roaring two-stroke engine.
He has the sense of digging his burrow, of pushing on in dark times. , W. wonders. What kind of tunnel can a mole make that is without claws, a mole that’s gone mad underground? In the end, I excel at only three things, W. says: smut, chimp noises and made-up German. That’s all my scholarship has amounted to. And isn’t it the same with him? Ah, what does he really know? Of what is he really certain? Biblical Hebrew, of course … The classical guitar … The history of philosophy in the German tradition, in the French tradition … Something of the ancient Greeks, and the language of the ancient Greeks … But it’s nothing, nothing, W.
Pee Wee’s … The Panama … The Hole in the Wall. They’re long gone’, he says. ‘The gambling houses, too. —‘Wolf’d crawl around the stage on all fours, howling’, he says. ‘That’s how he got his name. And then, ‘Wolf’d get women to ride up on his back. And then he’d go round the crowd. He had an extra-long microphone cord, see. Sometimes he’d go out and sing in the street. He’d howl at the moon …’ He laughs. ’, W. asks him. ‘Every day’s my birthday’, he says. In the hotel bar, W. muses on our lecture tour.
Dogma by Lars Iyer