Fancy pants (and ideas).

"He lived on himself, fed on his own substance, like those hibernating animals that lie torpid in a hole all the winter; solitude had acted on his brain as a narcotic. At first, it had nerved and stimulated him, but its later effect was a somnolence haunted by vague reveries; it checked all his plans, broke down his will, led him through a long procession of dreams which he accepted with passive endurance without an attempt to escape them." Against the Grain (p.71)

So, I'm reading this book called Against the Grain. It's about a dude who doesn't want to work or be a part of society, so he sells the house he's inherited, makes a good deal of loot, and buys a little cottage just outside of town. He's a strange man. He kinda hates people. He thinks they're stupid, basically. It's for a modern lit class.

I just have to say that, even though the main character is a dislikeable sorta fella and the writing includes deeply ingrained sexist comments (get it? ingrained?), I love some of the ideas presented in this story.

He destroys a marriage by suggesting that the couple live in a round house with round furniture. Once they tire of this and move to a "normal", square house the furniture becomes a major source of conflict, since nothing will fit against the wall, causing a lack of space.

He also has a collection of liquor casks that he calls his "mouth organ". He compares the taste and effect of each type of liquor to an instrument and/or a note and then makes symphonies in his mouth by drinking drops from the various taps. Oh dang. I love that.

Also, he has a "funeral feast in celebration of the most unmentionable of minor personal calamities". My birthday is in a few months and I'd love to have a funeral for my pre-thirty years. But really, I can't help but think that a party like that would be too morbid, even for me.

But you can see why I love this book, right?