Have you ever legitimately cried reading a book?
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Have you ever legitimately cried reading a book?
Have you ever legitimately cried reading a book?
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The things they carried made me cry. Tagore’s poetry. Pessoa. So ya sometimes it happens. But I cry almost every time I write.
Also Im sure TBK probably made me cry at some point.
Same. Norman Bowker's story broke me. And so did the last chapter about his childhood love.
Most recently, the chapter of Oliver Twist where Miss Maylie was sick was kinda impactful for me but I think I was just in a sensitive mood. And I don't think this one actually made me cry, but the Overture to Swann's Way was just incredibly brutal.
>the last chapter about his childhood love.
Yeah, that one fricking destroyed me.
>Tagore's poetry
Is he really good? I'm aware of him but don't know much about him.
I cried at the epilogue when it was describing Nicholas and Mary's married life, I just really liked her character and the description was so tender and simple and peaceful.
dude stop crying so much. unless you’re a woman.
Nothing wrong with having a good manly cry. Face stoic, cheeks wet.
I wish I could cry more often, I almost never really fully feel anything unless it's in a direct moment of conflict with another person. In a relatively controlled environment, I can cope my way through just about anything.
And honestly if I had gotten through the thousand-plus pages of War and Peace without crying or having some sort of intense reaction to it I would've felt cheated. As for TTTC, I think anyone would cry at that part, if you didn't you should be executed like Meursault was for not crying at his mother's funeral.
The most I've ever been affected was by Hardy's After a Journey and Yeats' The Stolen Child, but those were just things that I read one night at a moment of intense personal crisis and they ended up crystallizing it and making it real for me.
But I've never been truly ashamed of crying or being feminine in general, sorry, can't give you the response you're looking for. That at least is an established "identity", the "sensitive Romantic type", I wouldn't mind being seen that way. It's only when someone clocks my true desperation for acceptance, my willingness to do anything and be anything they demand of me, that I feel real, bottomless shame.
>lost time
Yeah, I get that, I really do. Plays into the Hardy and Yeats poems I mentioned. Great excerpt, is it a prose translation of poetry? I looked at wiki and it seemed like a lot of the criticism of him was surrounding translation issues, but maybe prose translations ameliorate those.
Tagore translated most of the poems himself as I understand but not all. And I’m the same way, growing up i watched my drunk father cry often so I never saw it as a bad thing, I too have the tortured romantic archetype in me, reference the book “touched by fire”
I also am basically anti stoic and pro Neitzschean belief in being unashamedly human.
Ill check out those poems thanks anon
Touched with fire, sorry
Yeah, I think Yeats criticized his translations though - not that I necessarily take Yeats as an authority either, but I am autistically perfectionist about these sorts of things. I will probably just try to see if I can cross-reference with the original text, good opportunity to start learning about Indian languages.
I don't *really* have that archetype in me though, that's what I was trying to convey, I just like the idea of it and see it as an acceptable mask to wear but I don't have the confidence to actually fake it convincingly. I can't really "believe" one way or another in Stoicism or Nietzscheanism, I am too detached and unreal to feel strongly about it. But I'm not naive enough to envy manic depression.
They're lovely poems, nothing particularly special but I was not well-versed in poetry at the time so they hit me with full force.
Recommendation- The Chess Players by Satyajit Ray.
Yeah I know you were just bringing up the concept I just misspoke. Im bipolar and yeah I dont think it helps my writing too much honestly. Theres an overlap there somewhere but mostly it just ruins every relationship Ill probably ever have. Also think tagore hit me at my most vulnerable point.
Hope you can continue to find solace, in poetry or whatever else it may be. I've seen how destructive bipolar can be, I wish you strength, and the ability to feel like there are at least limited realms in which you're not helpless - I know that's a lot of what literature and learning in general offers for me. I don't know if I have a good rec for you, but I'll just throw out Emily Dickinson and Paul Celan, two greats that are similarly insular and eccentric; Celan knows much of regret, frustration and paralysis/muteness, and Dickinson is metaphysical and tragic but in a breezy, superhuman sort of way.
Thanks Ill check them out. I have very limited knowledge / taste for poetry so I appreciate it ill check them out and I read the other poems I liked them especially the hardy one, I love his novels I didnt even know he wrote poetry.
Oh ok, I just assumed you were into it based on the Tagore and Pessoa mentions. And yes Hardy is an interesting one, he's apparently know for being a less "technically perfect" poet since it wasn't his primary pursuit but he wrote a lot of poetry especially later in his career and has a fair number of prominent admirers. Kinda similar to how D.H. Lawrence has an extensive poetic body of work that gets little recognition compared to his novels. I haven't read too much by Hardy but I loved Tess and the few poems I've read.
I love poetry I guess Im just particular about it. I love DH lawrence, Lady Chatterley’s Lover is my favorite british novel. But unsurprisingly I dont know his poetry much either.
I'm the opposite of particular, I have a psychological inability to properly "commit" to preferring one style/sensibility/aesthetic over another, it's kinda a moronic way to engage with literature but it does lead to a wide range of reading.
Only women tell men they can't cry.
Post breasts
Tagore’s poetry has a way of expressing such a calming acceptance of loss and I cry when I read it because I know I will never find that peace, I’m absolutely ravaged by the thought of lost time. Yet I read it to try and suck up his wisdom. Read gitanjali. I read it for meditative reasons but it to calm down but it just ends up fricking flooring me.
Picrel for context
>iToddler
>~~*Google*~~ Books.
>Pessoa
That shit frickin hits.
Yeah the book of disquiet is my favorite book of all time and his poems are excellent I couldn’t possibly put him in high enough reverence.
Yes
What I like about Dostoevsky is that he is the perfect test of where you stand on existential questions. Either you think the lack of any guide for how to live puts too much pressure on your shoulders and leave all the decision-making to God to figure out or you take the burden yourself. Inner freedom or inner peace, take your pick gentlemen, for you can't have both!
Or you be a Taoist
taking the burden yourself is the christian thing to do
>taking the burden yourself is the christian thing to do
Certainly not the burden of deciding for yourself what is the right course for your life. For Christianity, that is fixed by God.
Taking the burden of existence for yourself is the freeing thing to do. What burden does the Christian (or any other person of faith) take?
This
It’s really a take down of atheism after it makes its best stand
It's not, but he gave it his best shot.
>seriously thinking this
>crying at Dostoevsky
Adolescent minds.
Only a soulless bug would feel nothing from Dostoevsky.
This. Dos is some of the most important stuff you could read but i’m not gonna cry over it like a homo.
an adult mind
That suicide discussion in The Passenger got me weepy
My girlfriends Diary of all the guys she fricked before me tbh
hearty kek
I had no choice but to
When I was a kid Dobby's death scene got me. Such an innocent little goblin thing bleeding out from a stab wound, completely innocent in heart and soul. I cried reading it in my aunt's car.
I've cried twice:
>Anna Karenina when Levin's brother died
>A Tree Grows in Brooklyn after Francie and Neeley's father dies
Other than that, I almost cried when Alyosha kissed the ground.
my diary tbh
Hector’s death in the Iliad
I couldn't stop crying during Ilyusha's funeral
Dostoevsky is enough to make anyone cry.
While reading stoner, yes
Gabriel García Marquéz has made me shed a manly tear from time to time.
yeah the screenplay to Joker
the last time I cried due to fiction was the arthur episode when DW's snowball melts
at what part in this book did you cry? it wasn't sad at all
when whats his face was dying in War and Peace i got wet in the eyes
Andrei's death. I cried during this moment too
Was this the cuck who looked up at the sky and thought it so blue as he lay on the battlefield?
At the end of The Road
I cried at the end of Heidi and my sister made fun of me for it.
I still haven't quite forgiven her.
He holds grudges and stays miffed even with people in which his own blood flows. Who in their right mind stays miffed with their own family over such a trifle?
I cry at the end of every book because ending things makes me cry.
Also in Fathers and Sons when Bazarov visits home and his mother is overwhelmed at his presence. If I remember correctly he didnt stay long and she had to say goodbye basically as soon as she saw him. And then yano, the end of the book…
>Storm of Steel
Jünger getting evacuated and his men keep dying trying to drag him out
>TBK
Grushenka and Dimitri
>The Sorrows of Young Werther
Literally me
how do I make myself feel things
-The Tartar steppe.
-Flowers for Algernon.
-The curious incident of the dog in the night time.
-Leaf by Niggle.
These 4 have.
iMacaque.
The 2nd C/P chapter in which Raskolnikov has a conversation with Marmeladov.
The road
When I was reading the part about elder Zosima life, I won’t lie I was on the verge.
i tried reading it, got bored after a few hours
I cried when the Glaton died in blood meridian
Yes. Crime and Punishment and Confessions by St. Augustine.
I will probably be laughed at, but I cried while reading Winnetou III and it ruined my summer.
Zosima’s recollections of his youth
Cana of Galilee
Ilyushechka’s Funeral
Mitya's dream of the wee lad
Kolya at Ilyushechka's sick bed
Classical Electrodynamics by J.D.Jackson