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Location: British Columbia, Canada

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Monday, August 29, 2005

Sophie's Choice

So I'm reading Sophie's Choice. I don't understand that book. I'm not an English major, I don't know literature, maybe you understand, but I don't. It seems like such a, well, callous means of story telling. Six paragraphs framed by an endless succession of handjobs, wet dreams, schizophrenic lust, alcohol soaked lunch dates, blue balls, and abusive relationships.
Surrounding six paragraphs.
Why do we need the male perspective on the difficulties of unrequited love given to a woman who has seen hell? How is this important? Yes, the book is called Sophie's Choice, and it is, but how is it okay to construct the book using the perspective of a selfish, spoiled, lovelorn youth?
I know, it shows the dichotomy of the American life at the time, the difference between what was perceived by those on the outside, versus the reality lived by those on the inside, but it still seems like such a horrible way of approaching things.
Your child is dead. The narrator needs a better handjob. You chose which child would die. This shmuck thinks he can score with you. You watched your child walk away from you, to the gas chambers. Seriously, give the fucking twit a blow job.
There are so many issues which people choose to hide their heads in the sand rather than face, and find a means of doing so by using the excuse of sensitivity, but this time I have to say that there are some issues which should be approached with a modicum of sensitivity. And by that, I do mean that brutal honesty is so much more appealing than readability.
I don't understand this book.

Do we have to use tragedy as a punchline?


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