Comments on: Birth of a sibilant intake of breath http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/ dispatches from Canada's capital Fri, 05 Dec 2008 04:35:00 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6.5 By: Linnea M http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/#comment-13 Linnea M Wed, 19 Apr 2006 03:45:00 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/wp/?p=4#comment-13 Currently, my favorite novel is <em>Lolita</em>, followed (quite closely) by the <em>Sound and Fury</em>. Nabokov writes as only someone writing in their second language can: words still have the tiniest gap between sound and meaning, that little space, early obliterated in one's native language, where pure aesthetic attention is lavished upon every sentence. Currently, my favorite novel is Lolita, followed (quite closely) by the Sound and Fury. Nabokov writes as only someone writing in their second language can: words still have the tiniest gap between sound and meaning, that little space, early obliterated in one’s native language, where pure aesthetic attention is lavished upon every sentence.

]]> By: Steve Almond http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/#comment-12 Steve Almond Wed, 19 Apr 2006 03:41:00 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/wp/?p=4#comment-12 And yet it is our awareness of Humbert's pathology that makes his seduction so powerful. He knows he's doing wrong. We know he's doing wrong. He can't stop himself. And we can't stop ourselves from watching. Nor, if we are honest, do we look upon Humbert with pure disgust. In our covert hearts, we root for him, because he loves her, and because, when you come right down to it, most of our own wishes are illicit, or feel that way to us. Humbert's crimes, in other words, may be of a greater scale than the ones we commit, but the same cauldron of deviance bubbles within us. And yet it is our awareness of Humbert’s pathology that makes his seduction so powerful. He knows he’s doing wrong. We know he’s doing wrong. He can’t stop himself. And we can’t stop ourselves from watching.

Nor, if we are honest, do we look upon Humbert with pure disgust. In our covert hearts, we root for him, because he loves her, and because, when you come right down to it, most of our own wishes are illicit, or feel that way to us. Humbert’s crimes, in other words, may be of a greater scale than the ones we commit, but the same cauldron of deviance bubbles within us.

]]> By: Anonymous http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/#comment-11 Anonymous Mon, 03 Apr 2006 17:12:00 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/wp/?p=4#comment-11 This post has been removed by a blog administrator. This post has been removed by a blog administrator.

]]> By: Anonymous http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/#comment-10 Anonymous Fri, 03 Feb 2006 22:07:00 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/wp/?p=4#comment-10 have reserved for the conclusion of my "Annabel" phase the account of our unsuccessful first tryst. One night, she managed to deceive the vicious vigilance of her family. In a nervous and slender-leaved mimosa grove at the back of their villa we found a perch on the ruins of a low stone wall. Through the darkness and the tender trees we could see the arabesques of lighted windows which, touched up by the colored inks of sensitive memory, appear to me now like playing cards--presumably because a bridge game was keeping the enemy busy. She trembled and twitched as I kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own. Her legs, her lovely live legs, were not too close together, and when my hand located what it sought, a dreamy and eerie expression, half-pleasure, half-pain, came over those childish features. She sat a little higher than I, and whenever in her solitary ecstasy she was led to kiss me, her head would bend with a sleepy, soft, drooping movement that was almost woeful, and her bare knees caught and compressed my wrist, and slackened again; and her quivering mouth, distorted by the acridity of some mysterious potion, with a sibilant intake of breath came near to my face. She would try to relieve the pain of love by first roughly rubbing her dry lips against mine; then my darling would draw away with a nervous toss of her hair, and then again come darkly near and let me feed on her open mouth, while with a generosity that was ready to offer her everything, my heart, my throat, my entrails, I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion. have reserved for the conclusion of my “Annabel” phase the account of our unsuccessful first tryst. One night, she managed to deceive the vicious vigilance of her family. In a nervous and slender-leaved mimosa grove at the back of their villa we found a perch on the ruins of a low stone wall. Through the darkness and the tender trees we could see the arabesques of lighted windows which, touched up by the colored inks of sensitive memory, appear to me now like playing cards–presumably because a bridge game was keeping the enemy busy. She trembled and twitched as I kissed the corner of her parted lips and the hot lobe of her ear. A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own. Her legs, her lovely live legs, were not too close together, and when my hand located what it sought, a dreamy and eerie expression, half-pleasure, half-pain, came over those childish features. She sat a little higher than I, and whenever in her solitary ecstasy she was led to kiss me, her head would bend with a sleepy, soft, drooping movement that was almost woeful, and her bare knees caught and compressed my wrist, and slackened again; and her quivering mouth, distorted by the acridity of some mysterious potion, with a sibilant intake of breath came near to my face. She would try to relieve the pain of love by first roughly rubbing her dry lips against mine; then my darling would draw away with a nervous toss of her hair, and then again come darkly near and let me feed on her open mouth, while with a generosity that was ready to offer her everything, my heart, my throat, my entrails, I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion.

]]> By: Anonymous http://www.sindark.com/2005/08/28/birth-of-siob/#comment-9 Anonymous Fri, 03 Feb 2006 07:29:00 +0000 http://www.sindark.com/wp/?p=4#comment-9 <a HREF="http://www.sindark.com/photo/AstridSky.jpg" rel="nofollow">So Lyra and her daemon turned away from the world they were born in and looked towards the sun, and walked into the sky.</A> So Lyra and her daemon turned away from the world they were born in and looked towards the sun, and walked into the sky.

]]>