Classic Book Reading Settings

[hondarobot]

I'm hanging out, about to go hook up with my little red haired girl and I'm watching some show on Classic Movie Moments. They just showed a clip of Kubrick's take on "A Clockwork Orange".

I read that book for the first time when I was sitting in jail for "Attempting To Avoid The State Highway Tax" (and I was guilty, but it was just liscense plate tabs).

The setting wasn't that dramatic, really. I was stuck for two days in a big room with about twenty other guys who were in for DWI or not paying child support, or something. But it was definately a regular prison type deal for the long term guys. Hennepin County Workhouse.

Just one of many interesting combinations of a great book to read at an interesting time. I didn't actually learn anything from the experience, but I'm sure other people have had cool stories in those situations.

Clockwork Orange is a great book, very fitting for the situation at the time.

Just throwing something out there, can't let the Shecock threads take over the board completely.

8)

[TheOne1]

books are for burning :smoking

[scipio]

Reading The Odyssey when lost at sea. Didn't make me feel any better, but I could dig what Odysseus was going through.

[hondarobot]

Reading The Odyssey when lost at sea. Didn't make me feel any better, but I could dig what Odysseus was going through.

That's a great setting/book deal Scipio. You should post the full story.

I gotta go offline now, but that sounds pretty intense.

If there's one great thing we've got going on this forum it's the cool stories. Sounds interesting.

:)

[ezed]

Reading The Odyssey when lost at sea. Didn't make me feel any better, but I could dig what Odysseus was going through.

That's a great setting/book deal Scipio. You should post the full story.

I gotta go offline now, but that sounds pretty intense.

If there's one great thing we've got going on this forum it's the cool stories. Sounds interesting.

:)

I read Clockwork Orange, when I was a young lad, then I saw the movie, and I bought the sound track. And now there's the sound bites on Opie and Anthony. "More....wine" "FOOD.......GOOD?"

Truely a classic! Did you learn the language...me droogie!

[hondarobot]

I don't know how Clockwork Orange was originally published, but the copy I had came with a glossary for the slang. Good thing too, I would have been Oddyknocky and Razzdraz without it (not sure about the spelling on those, but you get the idea).

Several other cool books had little guides to the language in them. That damn thing with the rabbits was one. . . ah, fuck, can't remember the name or much about the book actually. It was told from the rabbits point of view, pretty famous book, just can't grasp the name at the moment. Something with the word "Run" in it, although I may been getting it confused with "Run, Rabbit, Run", which is something else entirely.

Hopefully someone will think of the name of that book or I'll remember it at some point.

:?

[Quinn]

And now there's the sound bites on Opie and Anthony. "

I know the ones your referencing. I've been a an O&A fan since their first days on WNEW. Get to one of their road parties if you ever get a chance. If you do, you won't soon forget the experience.

To the topic at hand, Clockwork is probably one of my favorite movies of all time. To those who have read it, how does the book compare with the movie?

-Quinn

[hondarobot]

That was a strange turning of the mental lock tumblers, just now.

I remembered the name of the rabbit book (Watership Down), so I logged back in to HA to add that to the thread. I read Quinns post (the book is way, way better, in my opinion) and thought about what movies actually had the same impact on me as the book they were based on. Peter Jackson did an awesome job with Lord Of The Rings, but it wasn't 100% accurate.

Terry Gilliams version of Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas was probably the most true to form adaptation I can think of. He even nailed that great passage about "The Wave", my favorite part of the book. I googled "Fear Loathing Las Vegas Wave", got the Wiki page, and there it was, the whole text version from the book. I guess I'm not the only person who thought that was a great, powerful, memorable moment in literary history.

Here's the text, if anyone isn't familiar with it. Hunter S Thompson was at the center of things, when the country changed and the growing mindset of what would become the 1980's crushed the ideals of the 60's and 70's. Interesting, but sad, time to be alive. Hopefully things will turn back again. Anyhoo, here's the text:


San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were here and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time — and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights — or very early mornings — when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.

[Caff_Racer]

I've never read the book, but I consider that Clockwork Orange is an outstanding film, like most of Kubrick's films (I say most because I found Eyes wide shut a bit feeble).
My classic book reading setting is reading "2001 A Space Odyssey" at night on a rocky promontory near Cadaquès in Spain, with the Milky Way stretched out in the sky above me... magical!

[ezed]

And now there's the sound bites on Opie and Anthony. "

I know the ones your referencing. I've been a an O&A fan since their first days on WNEW. Get to one of their road parties if you ever get a chance. If you do, you won't soon forget the experience.

To the topic at hand, Clockwork is probably one of my favorite movies of all time. To those who have read it, how does the book compare with the movie?

-Quinn I read the book thiry years ago, as I recall, the movie didn't let me down.

I went to the O&A Traveling Virus at the DCU center in Worcester this summer. It was fantastic! 8 comedians in one night and lots of othe stuff.

Check You Tube and search "Opie and Anthony" Then search for Bill Burr's preformance in Philly on the same Virus tour (10 min version there are several shorter ones). Most unbelievable perfomance you'll see. Came after two comedians were booed previous to him and he wouldn't let the Philly crowd get the better of him. They boo Santa Claus. he did a total adlib set and ripped them to shreads. Totally out of character to his usual act. He left to a standing O.

[GroobySteven]

Reading Princess Diana's autobiography, "Life in the Fast Lane" - while drunk and coked up, driving through a Paris underpass with a rich Arab in the passanger seat.


seanchai

[hondarobot]

Reading Princess Diana's autobiography, "Life in the Fast Lane" - while drunk and coked up, driving through a Paris underpass with a rich Arab in the passanger seat.


seanchai

Somehow I just can't imagine Seanchai reading Princess Di's autobiography. . .

But it illustrates an excellent point. Hunter Thompson also lived "in the fast lane" up into his sixties, and look what happened to him. Excellent writer, but he paid the price in the end.

But ya gotta hand it to him, he went out the only way he could have at that point. He knew he was at the end of the line. Too bad, too. Had he lived into his eighties or beyond I think he could eventually have landed Andy Roonies gig on 60 minutes.

:)

[BeardedOne]

Had he lived into his eighties or beyond I think he could eventually have landed Andy Roonies gig on 60 minutes.

Heh. I'm seeing HST saying "Didja ever wonder..." while being shot out of a cannon. :lol:

Damn, wish I'd had a book with me when I was in the tank during the limousine trials in '77. Would have taken my mind off the fact that half the population of the holding cell thought I was a dealer while the other half thought I was the mob (I was the only one in the tank wearing a three-piece suit).

[suckseed]

Man. I loved Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Didn't it begin with something like, 'I remember saying to my passenger, 'I'm feeling a little lightheaded; perhaps you should drive', when all of a sudden the sky was filled with giant batlike creatures, diving and swooping down upon us as we sped down the highway in a red Cadillac convertible, and a voice was screaming, "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?" ' To read that at 17, within a few months of my first experiences with acid...what a summer that was, even in a tiny southern town. I remember that 'wave' part too. I was surprised that Thompson suddenly showed a more serious & emotional side, even if delivered in an unsentimental way. That passage is kind of heartbreaking.

Just yesterday a kid at work was bragging about taking 14 hits of acid as a teen. I remember feeling that stop-this-ride-I-want-to-get-off feeling after 8 hours with just one. I can't imagine how some people are even functioning today after what they've put their poor brains through. The kid was also regaling the kitchen with tales of 'swallowing a whole botle of Dramamine and hearing voices.' Uh, good for you, kid. Thumbs up.

Regarding the thread...reading 'The Last Picture Show' when a coming-of-age young man in a small Sothern town myself. It actually helped me not be too dazzled by the femme fatale I was currently besotted with when I started seeing her manipulative ways. That book perfectly captured for me that constant, dizzying ache of sexual longing that you have when you're 16,17,18...does it ever really go away? I guess not, but when you are just discovering it and still have your innocence and
wonder about women, it's just so overpowering. I remember swearing to my girlfriend that I'd pull out, and yet thrusting into her as deeply as I could when I came. (Yes! I want you pregnant! I'm going to love you forever!)
One more quote, this time from Ragtime, by E.L Doctorow, if I can remember it. This book was another of those things I read at 15 that was better than any porn at the time. 'Suddenly from the closet there arose an unearthly moaning, and out came Mother's Younger Brother, clutching a rampant penis which, scornful of his intentions, whipped him about the room, launching to his cries of ecstacy or despair, great long filamented streams of jism that slowly settled over Erica in her bed like streams of tickertape." That may have been the beginning of my career as a man forever in search of 'puddy tat.' Damn. I'm all worked up now. Let us all raise our glasses to the female form.

[hondarobot]

Had he lived into his eighties or beyond I think he could eventually have landed Andy Roonies gig on 60 minutes.

Heh. I'm seeing HST saying "Didja ever wonder..." while being shot out of a cannon. :lol:

That would be pretty funny.

"Didja ever wonder: why they have to make these fuckin cannons so goddamn loud? I'm all for a good explosion, but these damn things sound off like The Guns Of The Navarone filled with the contents of Tim McVeys uhaul trailer! Couldn't they use some sort of air cannon, an ether cannon even, that would be good, numb the damn shock a bit. Water cannon filled with Chivas Regal, maybe. . . Fuckin cannon makers, bunch of wild eyed savages, they should aim me at the bastards warehouse, I'll tear their damn eyes out!

What? You can't say the word 'fuck' on 60 minutes? This entire network is run by blouse wearing fuckin swine!"

And you gotta tell the Limousine Trials Of '77 story, B1. If you posted it before, I missed it.

[BeardedOne]

And you gotta tell the Limousine Trials Of '77 story, B1. If you posted it before, I missed it.

Random pieces of it come up from time to time, usually when showing my blatant lack of respect for big-city law enforcement, the 'legal' profession, and the lack of justice in the justice system.

WARNING! Long story alert (And there are no nekkid ladies in it)!

When I graduated from high school (A year ahead of the average age group and as much thrown out as graduated) in '75 I dabbled in various entrepeneurial ventures to see where life might lead. Things were random and without focus (Like, hey man, I was only seventeen) so it wasn't too surprising that, after tinkering with a series of early fifties Chevys as toys, I acted on a whim in the summer of '76 and bought what was to be the first of several limousines that I would own over the years.

Nothing spectacular, just a standard '68 Cadillac Fleetwood 75 Formal like all the other limos that were on the roads of the Northeast at that time (Cadillac produced the stock 75 up until about 1986 when custom stretch limos took over the scene in all markets), but it was a limo, and there weren't a lot of 'kids' driving them at the time.

I had done some agenting for a couple of local services while I was still a senior in HS, getting a small commission/referal fee for keeping the cars busy when they weren't otherwise doing weddings or funerals and I thought it might be cool to have my own service. Since the major design changes hadn't yet come along (Caddy likes to rework its line about every ten years or so), the older '68 and two '66's that I added later, still fit into the market rather well. One 66 came in a package deal I made with an established local service where I bought the car, company name, phone lines, etc. and hired the previous owner as a part-time chauffeur in a goodwill exchange. The business launched on Innauguration Day of 1977.

By the start of summer, things seemed to be going pretty well. I was putting my mark on the service (Which, like most others, had a bread-and-butter funeral/wedding business mostly) by turning my attentions to what I believed (And was proved correct) to be the future of the industry: Classic cars for weddings and promotions, custom stretch limousines for corporate and hotel work (To which I got a lot of grief because the naysayers kept pointing out that the hotels and corporations all owned their own fleets and who would ever be interested in a stretch outside the New York and LA markets?), and standard sedans for custom, personalized transportation.

Meanwhile, as I was tapdancing with corporate transportation liasons and a small army of hotel concierges, I failed to grasp two things: My business partner was an idiot and a crook and the previous owner of the core service was the king of con men. It was eventually revealed that the latter made a business of selling his business while the other had a hobby of stirring up litigation for the fun of it.

Apparently, back then (And often today as well) most small limousine companies changed hands often and with little more than a handshake to seal the deal. At the time, there were less than a dozen or so licensed operators listed in the Boston yellow pages, compared to a couple hundred today. By the time the dust settled, we discovered that the service had been sold, in its entirety, three times over the course of the previous five years, each time reverting to the original owner (Who'd first filed the business license in 1962) when he tired of the new 'owners'. The only difference was that I, the newcomer so young that he couldn't legally operate the cars in service (The state law required licensed chauffeurs to be 21), was the only one of the now four owners that had the good sense to get a signed sales contract and a notarized bill of sale on the limousine.

That's when the games began. Focused first in the municipality where the company was based, then to that county's Superior Court, then to neighboring Suffolk County (Boston). What made it interesting were the clear alliances (Dare I say 'bribery'? Nawwww, that would be I-L-L-E-G-A-L) between the con man, the local police, the clerk and assistant clerk of court, and possibly one judge (Though I suspect the last was more senile than dishonest and was more than likely manipulated by the clerks).

So long as things remained within the town boundaries, I had little chance of victory (As it turned out, there were no real winners). The recorders were mysteriously inoperable during testimony while one of the higher ranking cops actually stood next to the witness stand and poked the old man (The previous owner) any time he accidentally started to tell the truth. The clerks turned a blind eye to this coaching and the judge seemed to be dozing most of the time.

As this was going on, the car itself became a rather amusing gamepiece. It had thrown a rod on the Dewey Thruway as we were returning from Long Island City where we had been car shopping at Fugazy (There was an interesting business model: They would buy a hundred or so custom stretch Lincolns and then sell them at least three times over, via leasing and shell corporations, without actually releasing the title. Our interest in them was when the cars reached the end of their service life, about two years, they would literally be dumped off for pocket change to make room for the next fleet. These were to be the seeds of my stretch fleet to be introduced to the Boston market). Unbeknownst to my partner and I, the old man went back to Newburgh and retrieved the car, had the engine rebuilt, and started hiring it out as his own again. Once discovered, it led to a game of repo-tag between us and the contracted tow company of the town. My favorite memory involves my sitting down to lunch one day and as I was reading the menu I saw the cops tag and tow the car from the restaurant lot. I made a call and the car was back in its space before my coffee came at the end of the meal. :)

Not content to keep this nonsense on his home court, the old man contacted the Registry and filed a complaint saying that I had filed a false title on the car. In fact, I couldn't remember having done so (At the time, cars over ten years old were not required to have a title and this particular limo had just passed its eleventh birthday) and later discovered that my partner had done it and had signed my name on the application. How generous of him. This brought the game across city and county boundaries into Suffolk Superior Court, the Registry's home base of Boston.

In his complaint, the old man gave them a false address for me and so the summons was never received, a bench warrant was issued, and District 14 cops dispatched to my place of employment (Ever the realist, I still had my 'day job'). Ordinarily, it was a jeans and t-shirt affair and I can't recall why (Perhaps a planned meeting with potential clients), but I wore a three-piece suit to work that day. Maybe it was because my family had a little pull in that area or maybe it was because the cops, not under the control of the old man, didn't feel right about what was going on, but I have never seen an arrest proceed in such a civilized fashion. The cops, two standard issue uniformed grunts, politely explained why they were there, allowed me to make a couple of phone calls before leaving the office and, once on the elevator, apologized because they had to handcuff me "for show". The "show" was for the old man and his lawyer who were waiting in the building lobby. I guess that's why it didn't feel right to the cops, they probably had never experienced a 'tagalong' for a bench warrant. A few minutes later, at the station, they took the cuffs off, sat me on a bench in the lobby (Unattended) and gave me a cup of coffee. Apparently, they did not see me as a 'flight risk'.

Two Registry inspectors arrived, drove me to Superior Court at Pemberton Square and that's where I served out my 'time in jail', in a holding cell at the back of the courthouse, with about two dozen miscreants. 8) I think I was there for about an hour and spent that time in a surprisingly peaceful comfort zone since the suit seemed to either confuse or intimidate the other guys in the cell and they all seemed to move away as I walked around. Though, really, a book certainly would have helped my mood. :) Brief hearing, while standing in the dock, handcuffed. The judge appeared a little confused as well, apparently having been told by the old man (Who was present in the courtroom) that I was an unkempt, unruly thug. When he ordered me released I handed the bailiff the cuffs which I'd slipped out of during the hearing (I s'pose that was a bit uncalled for, as they'd been rather nice to me, but I was torqued up about the whole thing at that point and didn't care who I embarrassed). The inspectors did not offer me a ride home. The bastards.

While the case collapsed with no sure winner at the municipal level (Though I lost the car, he was never able to take it out of the garage after that, lest we bag it from him), taking it across the line to Suffolk turned into a serious embarrassment for the old man, his lawyer, the local cops, and an assistant D.A. whose career surely hit a wall that day. The cops tried to coach the testimony, as they'd done at the other court, but got seriously slapped by the judge as a result. Without his script, the old man prattled on and essentially gave two seperate, entirely opposite testimonies. By the time the judge, in tears from laughing so hard, gavelled us out of the room, my career as a limousine service operator had come to an end. Much like Preston Tucker and his shortlived car company, I had won the battle, but lost the war. Though I've been in and out of the business since, it was never again as an owner/manager. Pretty much everything in the tale fit into the brackets of a single year.

A few months later, we found that the office address had changed again, the fifth time in six years. This time, it was the address of one of our chauffeurs, a colorful fellow who was rumored to have mob ties. He surely had something, as he retained ownership of the company to the bitter end.

And to stay on topic, "Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend.
Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read". :lol:

[hondarobot]

Great post, B1! Crooked business guys, goofy cops, funny car deals, all good stuff. School of Hard Knocks, I can relate to that.

And as far as Groucho quotes go, related to this thread, "I find television very educational. Every time someone turns one on, I go to the other room and read a book".

Speaking of which, I need a new book to read. I got a few chapters into a bunch of nonsense called "Spy" by this Ted Bell guy (loaned to me from a co-worker), and it was about as compelling as a Johnny Quest episode, so I gave up on it.

Anyone have any good book recommendations?

[suckseed]

the Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon

[hondarobot]

the Crying of Lot 49 - Thomas Pynchon

Pynchon? That's just J.D. Salinger's pen name when he's really stoned.

8)

[BeardedOne]

Anything by Tom Sharpe, very surrealistic comedy. First one I read was Blott on the Landscape, which was later turned into a BBC miniseries. I only saw a single episode of the latter, so can't say whether it was a good adaptation, but they usually do well.


School of Hard Knocks, I can relate to that.

Really. I hate that town for all the damage it caused to my life. If it weren't for some of the better residential architecture and the Kennedy Birthplace, it would make for a nice nuclear testing ground. :evil:

[Caff_Racer]

Blott on the Landscape - brilliant!! My Tom Sharpe favourite has to be Vintage Stuff; it reminds me somewhat of my days at Prep School in Surbiton :shock:

[trish]

i saw Kubrick's film "Clockwork Orange " many years ago and then when out and read the book. it was like seeing the film all over again...Kubrick did a good job of sticking closely to the plot and character of the book. of course it's a thin book. harder to with a larger work.

[scipio]

Reading The Odyssey when lost at sea. Didn't make me feel any better, but I could dig what Odysseus was going through.

That's a great setting/book deal Scipio. You should post the full story.

I gotta go offline now, but that sounds pretty intense.

If there's one great thing we've got going on this forum it's the cool stories. Sounds interesting.

:)

It was more embarrasing than interesting, in the end. One of those things you look back on and laugh, and cringe.

I was in mid-late teens, borrowed a boat from a family friend, and went sailing off the west coast. He let me take the boat because I told him I was a good sailor, but I didn't have much of a clue frankly.

Got completely bloody lost, there were a few islands around, but nothing on them. Had 2 mates with me who were just as clueless. We took turns steering, and I was reading and thinking that Ulysses at least had Calypso when he was stranded on that Island, and I was stuck on a boat with two blokes.

The first say we busted the outboard motor and had nothing but the sails, which we were useless at handling.

After a couple of days of pissing about in the middle of nowhere we headed toward where we thought the mainland was, and eventually got close to it, got becalmed, and started rowing (no shit, rowing a sailboat with a couple of paddles).

It was pretty pathetic, frankly, but I survived.

The stupid things you do when you're 15.

I was always somehow hooked on the Oddysey after that, read it a number of times. Buggered if I know why.

[hondarobot]

That's a pretty messed up situation, Scipio. Good thing you guys had oars to paddle with.

It reminded me of a situation last year or so when three guys from Australia or something went out fishing and got swept WAY out to sea. The motor died on the boat and they had no oars at all, just three metal pails (to carry their lunch or something). They got lucky early on in that a storm hit and tossed a dead octopus into the boat, which provided at least some form of food for awhile.

But they were lost for over a month, and here is what their daily routine consisted of: paddle the boat with the pails at night, then sleep during the day with the pails over their heads to avoid severe sunburn. Living the dream, eh? "Oh, wonderful, the sun is rising. Time to put this salt water soaked metal bucket on my head and get a little shut eye. . . but perhaps a bit of quickly spoiling raw octupus as a little snack."

Goes to proove there's always someone worse off then yourself, thank God. I'd hate to meet the last guy down the chain who really has No-One worse off then himself. I mean, it's gotta come down to one guy eventually. Poor bastard.

Strange that you had that book with you at the time. Must have been some Cosmic Destiny type thing.

[scipio]

T
Strange that you had that book with you at the time. Must have been some Cosmic Destiny type thing.