Ken Bruen has a great novel called Rilke On Black where a comedian/club owner drives his kidnappers up the wall by quoting Rilke to them constantly. Besides, it has an exchange that runs through my head every time I end up with a pain in the ass bookstore clerk.
I said, "I was looking for something on Rilke.
"You mean Roethke... or possibly Rimbaud."
I caught her arm.
"Hey, I’ve had a day you wouldn’t believe, OK, now trust me on this. I know Rilke like you’ll never know fuckin’ manners. So what y’say, want us to go look?"
We did and found. I bought two volumes. Then the off-license and a bottle of bourbon.
no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 06:37 am (UTC)The cat on his concealed switchblade toes
comes by, and what he says
is silent, but enlightening.
—Ursula K. Le Guin
no subject
Date: 2006-10-30 03:16 pm (UTC)