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PBS is right now at this moment announcing the top novel of all time. But, why a book at all? What can you get out of a book that you can't get from all the other great things in life? Why waste so much energy alone with a book?
A book is a portal in which the reader can step into someone else’s skin, and live an adventure in a different universe.

I have found nothing else that is capable of so completely transporting a person out of reality and into the impossible.  Everything else is entertainment, books are magic.
A wise TV producer once said, "Books are lighthouses in the sea of time."
I missed the number 1 novel of all time. I was too busy trying to make sure I was reconciling myself with you folks, I missed the announcement. . . . But Q., is it so important that we transport out of reality? . . . I already have my response to your answer. But give it anyway, and knock me down, so I have to think again.

Richard, aren't you the Canadian among us? You and WJames. Was it Mister Rodgers? Or Mr. Rogers? I get thew, I mean, them, confused.
There is a time and place for reality, sure.  But, in my experience at least, reality is a bit lacking in possibilities. I don’t know about yours, but there are shockingly few dragons in my town.

In books I have been to the past and the future, to outer space and to worlds that don’t even exist.  I have fought bravely, though I am not actually brave.  I have been a peasant and a king and a madman.  I have loved and lost and wept and laughed and lived a thousand lives to this one alotted to me.  Why live only one life when I can live many?  Time creaks by so slowly.   Why not go on a quest while waiting for the laundry?  (However, I don’t recommend reading while cooking, it has proved hazardous ...)

It’s not a question of why, but of why not?
I believe in those things you mention. And fairies, you know I believe in fairies. I think I have an easier time writing poetry than some. Because when I talk about demons and vampires, I can easily pass them off as metaphors, but to me they're real. That might be crazy, but, who cares in these times we're living in? Besides, the little patch of woods I adventure in, there aint nobody else around, and I doubt I'd ever meet you there.
Book magic doesn’t negate other magic, if anything it enhances it. It is because of all the books that I believe in impossible things.  Wink
i think it's really important we transport ourselves out of reality. though i don't mean the way a junky does; I'm talking about a reality we can leave at any time with an interruption or want to. with films i'm so focused i can't hear people, i shit you not, i screen everything but the film out.

books on the other hand, i can lose myself in a book i like so deep yet i'm still aware of what's going on around me. those minutes i do lose myself refresh me. sadly i don't read as much as i used to. terry prattchet is one of those authors i'm able to escape in/to. and yes for some a period of escape is and having one can be one of the most important things we have. i look on it as a form of meditation; a battery charger. as for there being a number one book; i don't see why not, we have the best one in almost every walk of life. swimmer, boxer, actor, film; why not book? also a big thanks to you and others who are helping lift the place out of the pit of apathy. i think there's hope for us yet. Thumbsup

(10-24-2018, 10:16 AM)rowens Wrote: [ -> ]I missed the number 1 novel of all time. I was too busy trying to make sure I was reconciling myself with you folks, I missed the announcement. . . . But Q., is it so important that we transport out of reality? . . . I already have my response to your answer. But give it anyway, and knock me down, so I have to think again.

Richard, aren't you the Canadian among us? You and WJames. Was it Mister Rodgers? Or Mr. Rogers? I get thew, I mean, them, confused.
Isn't impossible really saying, I'm possible? Huh, huh?

And, billy, I'm never apathetic. I thought that I wasn't was beginning to be an annoyance. And not just beginning to.
not for a minute did i think you apathetic rowens; irritable maybe, apathetic never Hysterical

Isn't impossible really saying, I'm possible? Huh, huh?

i take the impossible as something that isn't possible.

i don't think a person can be impossible in anything but a figure of speech.

(10-24-2018, 11:24 AM)rowens Wrote: [ -> ]Isn't impossible really saying, I'm possible? Huh, huh?

And, billy, I'm never apathetic. I thought that I wasn't was beginning to be an annoyance. And not just beginning to.
(10-24-2018, 11:24 AM)rowens Wrote: [ -> ]Isn't impossible really saying, I'm possible? Huh, huh?

No, it is not. 

“Impossible” is not a compound word composed of the English contraction “I’m” and the word “possible.”  

“Im” is a Latin prefix that means “not” and the root word “possibilis” which means “able.”  “Impossible” means “not able.”
Well that's never stopped me before.
Nor should it. Big Grin
I thought Monday was Halloween. I still have a whole week. And I'm enjoyed. Is that the word IN THE JOY of it. When the macabre turns people on? . . . You know, we always have this October boost. The real trouble comes when fall is over, whether or not us sad souls are going to be raging in poetry. Springtime doesn't even get that poetic boost. But I reckon people are making all their real-life bad decisions at that time. Wait till fall, the falling-out, to write about it.

Now The Cult of Chucky is on. And the girl in the wheelchair is looking pretty damn good on this cold, lonely night, in this foul year of our Lord, Twenty and 18.

And what about real books? Books you can smell, feel the texture of, divine the history of hands they've been through? What about them books?
Isn’t that what we were talking about? What other kinds of books are there?
We have been talking about those books, but there are . . . out there . . . new kinds of books. Books with no pages to touch or ink or scent. Books that have the same titles and the same stories . . . and are . . . no worse or no better than what we, I, we were talking about.

They killed my favorite book. It died like a person died, and I mourn it like a person does. Only it took a part of me with it that's silly to many people. But I'm missing a part of me. So, I know.