Giles Goat-Boy

Giles Goat-Boy

John Barth

Language: English

Pages: 0

ISBN: 0553147056

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Book by Barth, John

Closing Time: The Sequel to Catch-22

Ape and Essence

Dolly City (Hebrew Literature Series)

The Big U

Beautiful You

Ass Goblins of Auschwitz

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing humiliation, but more nearly awe before the special nature of my freedom, not appreciated thitherto. Truly it seemed to me (though I could no more word it then than Croaker could discourse upon low-relief woodcarving) that a deed became Grand-Tutorial from its having been done by the Grand Tutor and in no other way; at the same time, that the Grand Tutor defines Himself ineluctably and exclusively in the Grand-Tutoriality of His deeds. There was no cause, I strongly felt, to worry about.

[Aside] Oh boy, that gal’s mature, all right! Poor Agenora—she’d be senile if she were maturer! TALIPED: [TO GYNANDER] There seems to be no end to your affronts and dark insinuations! GYNANDER: Let me once again declare, more clearly than before, the ugly answer to our problems: You’re the wretch you want. You’ll see, when Scene Four’s done, that you’re your daughter’s brother, your own stepson and foster-father, uncle to your cousin, your brother-in-law’s nephew, and (as if that wasn’t enough) a.

Learned, thanks to me, that Classmate X was the defector Chementinski, he supposed he would put that knowledge to a use less passèd than I would approve of: blackmailing the Nikolayans back to the conference-table. “It’s all very well for proph-profs to be above these things,” he said amiably; “but the man with the power can’t always keep his hands as clean as he’d like to.” Folding his handkerchief neatly as he spoke, he caught sight of the Stoker-smudge on it and laughed. “What about the.

WESCAC’s tapelift, and the nature and identity of whoever put me there were equally mysterious. It could not even be said for certain whether the lift was meant to be my coffin or the Moishe’s-basket of my salvation; though he Max had once been the foremost authority on WESCAC’s programming, these things had taken place after his removal, when for all he knew the Menu might have been altered either by the computer itself or secretly by its new Director, Eblis Eierkopf. Neither had conclusive.

Open, I kissed his cold forehead, and felt on my lips, with anger, drops of the river he’d crossed at last. “This flunking place!” I cried. “What’s it called?” “Just ‘The Gorge,’ ” Anastasia said. “If you go with this Dean o’ Flunks here”—Max pointed grimly to Stoker—“you might as well call it South Exit, because you’re flunked for sure.” “I’m going to give it his name,” I declared, indicating G. Herrold. Max showed some surprise at the firmness of my tone, but shrugged. To the company at.

Download sample

Download