Fiction or Non-Fictiion?

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WhatsUp
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Location: Twin Cities

Fiction or Non-Fictiion?

Post by WhatsUp » Mon Oct 09, 2006 8:01 am

Do you read fiction or non-fiction books? Or both?

dorajar
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Location: Minneapolis

Post by dorajar » Mon Oct 09, 2006 8:07 am

Both! :D

Frasier
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Post by Frasier » Mon Oct 09, 2006 10:33 am

Only non-fictions. I have grown out of fictions, which are just a bunch of b.s. stories made up by someone who has too much time on their hand.

jak
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Post by jak » Mon Oct 09, 2006 1:12 pm

I read both, but definitely prefer Fiction. In fact, maybe I read only Fiction at this point in my life.

Who wants to read about something that could happen, has happened, will definitely happen, when they can dive head first, snarling and writhing, into the soft, warm contours of a fairy tale, a lie, a fabrication that can take you places that you never knew existed and, for that matter, never have?

Also, I just read this today and thought it was pertinent:

I've nothing against people who love truth. Apart from the fact that they make dull companions. Just so long as they don't start on about storytelling and honesty, the way some of them do. Naturally that annoys me. But so long as they leaveme alone, I won't hurt them.

My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself. What succour, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? When the lightning strikes shadows on the bedroom wall and the rain taps at the window with its long fingernails? No. When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don't expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.

OdinofAzgard
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Lots of Salem's Lot

Post by OdinofAzgard » Mon Oct 09, 2006 2:36 pm

My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself. What succour, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? When the lightning strikes shadows on the bedroom wall and the rain taps at the window with its long fingernails? No. When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don't expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.


Right. In those circumstances, whay you need is the soothing, rocking safety of a
Stephen King story. What succor is truth about natural phenomenon when your fear and cold can be abated by the plump comforts of angry gods hurling lightning bolts while hungry vampires tap at your window?

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