Philosophy Now Forum

i was just at the used bookstore, and i had some credits left on my card there from a past trade in of books so i thought i might look for a book. anyhow, i really couldn't find anything, until i came upon Henry Miller. it was a collection of writings, etc. of his. i thought that looked interesting. but i didn't have enough credits for it this time, so i kept looking, then near it i see this book called 'The Octopus (America's Great Muckraking Novel') by Frank Norris.

and i thought hmmm, what is this about? so i looked at that one and it sort of looked interesting, but then after briefly scanning the back i thought naaah, i allready have heard it all before (relative to its contents).

but something about it still made me curious and i opened it up and the first thing i saw was my last name. then i opened up to a few other pages and immediatly saw my last name 5 or 6 more times.

so i thought, well, i'll check it out.

then i got home and opened it up and someone is talking about believing in the 6th sense, and other senses etc.. i didn't expect that to be in there...

anyhow, the back of the book says this:

'Etched in sharp, pitiless detail, here is the Nineteenth Century's historic clash between the men who grew the wheat that made America rich and strong, and the ruthless, power-hungry railroads, thrusting their steel tentacles relentlessly across the fertile California valleys. Frank Norris's THE OCTOPUS is America's first big novel of social protest, a milestone in modern realism.'

and on the the first page it talks a bit about Frank Norris:

was born in Chicago in 1870 and grew up in San Francisco. As a student at the University of California, he discovered Zola's writings. Deeply under the influence of this great French realist, Norris became a pioneer proponenet of realism in america.

His novels, McTeague, Vandover and the Brute, The Pit, and The Octopus, won him wide critical recognition in his lifetime and enduring fame.

Shortly before his tragic death at the age of thirty-two, norris wrote of his work 'I never truckled. I never took off the hat to Fashion and held it out for pennies. I told them the truth. They liked it or they didn't like it. What had that to do with me? I told them the truth.'

has anyone read it yet? if so what did you think? i haven't started it yet, so please don't give me too many details:)

i'm not finished yet, but what i've noticed is that this book is a confused intricate nuance flurry of all sorts of characters. i'm not saying that's good or bad. couldn't say myself. i'm not saying anything. if anything, i'd say, i know not. however, what i do know, is that this book came to me for a reason.

there are intracisies in the book, that might suggest, that art, is eternal. all art of course. however, there is a character in the book that keeps returning to the mystic in the book. he squarely says, don't sign your name to it, let it be what it is, so to speak.

interestingly enough, long after the authors death, i find this book in my hands.

with my last name splashed all over it even.

'oh death, where is thy sting?' just like angele and vaneme, seems like he's still alive, although he died many years ago

this aside, from many other things, i remember something briefly, about my grandfather heading out to confront Roosevelt.

i never met him, he died before i was born.

he was a farmer

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YpE47V1AHE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXiHNWav3eQ

old man, take a look at myself, it's alot, like you

What are you talking about and who the hell are you talking too?