This isn’t a literary blog, but I have to share a few passages from my favorite author, Bret Easton Ellis. And since I do write this blog, and you read it, and books involve both of these, I figured I could segue into this, then segue right back out of it again later today when I tell you about the hairy Egyptian man on Broadway who sells smelly caftans with cats on them. (HA.)
So, I own a copy of Lunar Park, but when I got my new Amazon Kindle—which is a dream, don’t listen to the hype—I wanted to really do it justice by initiating it into my house, hands, and heart with something via Bret. Something so quotable I’d really get to use the “Clippings” function.
Among the many functions of this magical piece of machinery, Highlighting and Notes are my favorites. Move the cursor up the page you’re reading and you can make bookmarks, highlight text, or insert a note, like this one I wrote:
bbe always uses the word ‘thing’ when the proper word is usually readily available. like, ‘meeting.’ Meeting is not a difficult word to remember. Why doesn’t he just use the word? Because he’s obsessed with nonchalance. and I’m obsessed with that.
If you haven’t read Lunar Park, and you’re over 18, do. But in the meantime, here are a few of my favorite lines, courtesy the Kindle Clippings function.
regarding a video game stepdaughter Sarah is playing: “…featuring a flight-challenged and oddly charmless bumblebee whose expression of disgust always managed to fill me with alarm.”
while being briefed by a local detective on a string of American Psycho copycat murders in his neighborhood: “I tried to conceal a belch and failed.”
on kids, suburbia, society: “…fuzz—just a group of regular dads, living in the soft dreamlight of wealth we had all created, joined by our generically beautiful wives in trying to secure our perfect children’s ascension in the world. A slight wind caused leaves to scratch along the pavement…”
at a dinner party: “…and everywhere I glimpsed the withholding of a once casual promiscuity and it made me feel old. I briefly imagined all of us involved in an orgy (not a disagreeable fantasy considering how well put together all the women were) until I heard that Mimi Gardner owned a Pomeranian named Basket.”
same party, after his wife takes the pitcher of sangria away: “‘But what will happen when my drink needs replenishing?’ I asked in a robot’s voice and everyone laughed, though I wasn’t aware I had made a joke.”