In October we will be reading Confessions of an Opium Eater by Thomas De Quincey.
Please post your comments and questions in this thread.
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In October we will be reading Confessions of an Opium Eater by Thomas De Quincey.
Please post your comments and questions in this thread.
Thankfully it is not very long as I have been interested in wanting to read this for a while, but did not know if I would be able to fit it in.
I got a free copy of this book on my e-reader.
I bought a copy cheap in a bargain bookstore in the summer.
Honestly I’d rather read a real book than an e-book, even a used book, with somebody else’s finger prints all over it, and their notes in the margins. I donno, there’s just something about holding a real book - and the flight attendants can’t me turn it off on final approach. Maybe I’ll get used to it, but reading an e-book still feels to me like I’m reading something through a soda straw.
Just got my copy today!
Also, nobody ever got mugged for a paperback on the subway.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sancho
Good point. Additionally, at least with the spine end of a hefty paperback, you can use it as a bludgeon:Quote:
Originally Posted by Calidore
“Fly, scoundrel! Begone, thief! Give back what is none of thine!”
--or something like that; Sancho to the thief who stole his beloved donkey, Dapple.
Me too. You don't have to remember how to operate a real book, (which is important for me because I'm more inept with technology than a grandma.) You don't have to worry about dropping it, or scratching it, or if it gets a few sprinkles of rain on it. It's not such a loss if you lose it.Quote:
Originally Posted by Sancho
I am really enjoying reading this so far. One of the first things which caught my attention, and most particularly in reading the letter at the beginning is the way in which the author seems to be trying to absolve himself from taking responsibility for his own actions, and refusing to accept blame, but rather seems to see himself as a sort of victim. I thought it was particularly amusing towards the end of the letter when he was trying to make the "well everyone else was doing it" argument.
Also while this is autobiographical, and meant to be a true story, considering it is an account of his experiences as opium addict it does make one wonder just how reliable his account of events can truly be. How much can we really trust what he relates to us and how affected his memory and perceptions of events may be from his usage of opium.
It is one of the best books I've ever read in my life. I requested the clerk of one of the bookstores in Taiwan that sell works of literature, to search for and buy this book for me, several years ago, after I read a passage from Anthology of British Literature. It is beautiful. It took my breath everytime I read it.
I trust the writer of this book. He was the best writer of British Romanticism.
My translation professor recommended the name of this writer to the whole class, many years ago.
Just becasue he is a good writer does not be default make him a reliable narrator. Even when ones mind is not affected by drug use, I do not know how much any autobiography can be completely trusted, even if the writer has the best and most honest intentions.Quote:
Originally Posted by virginiawang
For one thing is the fact any time one is writing of something after the fact, our memoeries does play tricks upon us, and we rarely remember things as they have acutally happened but our mind fills in gaps in our memoeries, and our perceptions on past events may be skewed even if there is no wish to intentionally deceive.
And I would imagine one dealing with years of opium use the memory must be even further affected.
In addition there is the fact that it is basic human instinct when one is writing about themselves to want to give the most flattering picture possible, so even if they do not set up to out right lie or deceive thier perceptions of events certainly would not be without bias, it would be difficult for a person to be completely objectively honest about themselves.
And it seems to me that Quincey does want the reader to have a more positive outlook upon him and his experiences, the fact that he does seem to renounce taking any personal blame or responsibility, but seems to view himself as being but a victim may affect the way in which he portrays the events because even if he has every intent of being honest, he will still be relating his perception of the truth and reality which may differ from the actual reality.
I’ve gotta agree with that, Muse. I think his accuracy may be on par with Hunter Thompson’s in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and, as you mentioned, for similar reasons.
I’ve just finished the first chapter and so far I’ve been enjoying the language immensely. In fact I’ve had to read slowly to tune in to it.
I think chapter one could’ve been titled: Down and Out in London in the 19th Century. And yet I kept getting this picture in my head of Dan Akroyd, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Eddie Murphy in Trading Places – which goes along with your it’s-not-my-fault theory.
He drank wine on a regular basis, in addition to the fact that he ate opium for several years, or for a much longer stretch of time.
I do not think a good writer is required to write objectively, and it is simply because he/ she is a writer rather than a scientist doing some insipid observation. As he already asserted by the title of the book on its cover, the fact that he ate opium, and wrote a book about this experience, he didn’t deceive as a writer. For those of you who do not wish to feel the way he did, it is fairly easy to dump the book into the trashcan, when you find it undesirable. Perhaps one seldom buys a book he/she does not like at the first sight, by glancing through the cover and the back.
To be honest, I can hardly understand why some of you repeated the word “fault” again and again, for times without number.
I trust the writer of this book. It is because I feel it when I read through the book. I do not think it is necassary to investigate into the details of his life to reach a more accurate reality, with a view of proving that he had not been misled by a bad memory. By the way, I do not think I can find the word, autobiography, since the cover to the back. He was not required to report everything of his experience, of wine, opium or love, the way a reporter speaks before the media. When I reached this point along the train of thoughts that came to me one after another, I felt a desire to smile, because even a reporter cannot report in a way that makes him sound like a robot, which again will be encountering problems to prevent its listeners from thinking it is not a satellite or a ghost. Nothing is objective, I think.
I started from the beginning of the book this afternoon and reached around the middle of it, in the space of a few hours. It is really difficult to stop reading it, before I grew tired toward the night. I do agree to a certain degree with my last poster that he didn’t write anything to embellish his work, neither a joke nor an anecdote. His writing is quite plain. However it is the honest voice that attracted me so much. He described the events that took place one after another since his adolescence, how he studied under the guidance of teachers, where he lived, in an ordinary voice, somewhat randomly, and I really enjoyed reading it. The writing gave me a feeling that he had been talking to himself rather than a group of people, and perhaps that explained the reason why I love the book so much?
I think you have rather missed my point. The question of the reliable narrator is something that is often discussed whenever one is discussing a work that is written in first person narration, though generally it is something applied to fictional works but I think in this case that question of narrator reliability is valid, as I well I think it is a question that can be brought up any time an individual is speaking of themselves.Quote:
Originally Posted by virginiawang
The work is of autobiographical nature because the author is writing about his own experiences and life, that does not mean he has to tell every single detail, that is not at all what I was saying.
The point I was making is the fact that the things he does relate to us may not have in fact happened exactly the way he accounts for them, again I thought I made it quite clear that there was not attempt to deceive the reader, but that but if any of us were to sit down and right of an experience we had based upon memory no doubt the way we write it will not reflect exactly the way it actually happened.
I was simply suggesting that while the experiences he relates are based upon his life and are in essence true at the same time we should not necessarily view it all as absolute fact.