Festival Etiquette

The Brothers K

I loved The Brothers K by David James Duncan.

Here are just a few random quotes and excerpts that I just happened to like for one reason or another.

I wish there really was such a thing as a Time-Clock Puncher, though. I wish some gigantic, surly, stone-fisted Soap Mahoney-type guy went around the world smashing every clock in sight till there weren't any more and people got so confused about when to go to the mill or school or church that they gave up and did something interesting instead.
She had carried Christian literalism to its logical extreme: she'd become a holy inanimate object.
I suspect only fools understand prayer. (note: here the emphasis is that prayer cannot be understood.)
Witch-hunters think they're right, they think you're wrong, and they think that as long as they can prove it, how they prove it doesn't matter.
In a head-on collision with Fanatics, the real problem is always the same: how can we possibly behave decently toward people so arrogantly ignorant that they believe, first, that they possess Christ's power to bestow salvation, second, that forcing us to memorize and regurgitate a few of their favorite Bible phrases and attend their church is that salvation, and third, that any discomfort, frustration, anger or disagreement we express in the face of their moronic barrages is due not to their astounding effrontery but to our sinfulness?
"Anyone too undisciplined, too self-righteous or too self-centered to live in the world as it is has a tendency to 'idealize' a world which ought to be."
Strong families like mine kept fighting for a family identity, and strong characters like my brothers and sisters still struggled to come of age in nonfarcical ways. But our lives were being violated, trivialized, and in tens of thousands of cases terminated by the trite machinations of these sickeningly powerful men.
But once your life had acquired meaning, all it really meant was that you'd doomed yourself to hurt like a twice-hammered thumb once Unmeaning came along, as it always does, and knocked the teeth, brains and stuffing out of your puny meaning.
"Is this war a tragedy? Is it a farce? Or is it a blend far too deadly, sad and delicate for mere mortals to separate or define?"
Papa's first stop after leaving the asylum was a 7-Eleven, where his first purchase was a quart of Colt-45 malt liquor and his second a carton of Lucky Strikes. Toss an old ballplayer into a Kafka nightmare and the least he'll do is try to poison it back around into something recognizably American. (Note: isn't that last sentence spectacular?)
the lap is one thing: a ground, a region, an earth.


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Hell yeah, I frickin LOVE this book, and all your distillations remind me of its glory. Do you remember the "Hump of Energy"? (pg. 208 in my edition)


my favorite book ever. period. it has become my gospel.


I agree with the comment above. I absolutely loved this book i feel like a different person after reading it; for the better.


Do you remember a quote about pizza in this book

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