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Quote by Jonathan Lethem

“Fifth grade was fourth grade with something wrong. Nothing changed outright. Instead it teetered. You'd pushed futility at Public School 38 so long by then you expected the building itself would be embarrassed and quit. The ones who couldn't read still couldn't, the teachers were teaching the same thing for the fifth time now and refusing to meet your eyes, some kids had been left back twice and were the size of janitors. The place was a cage for growing, nothing else. School lunch turned out to be the five-year-plan, the going concern. You couldn't be left back from fish sticks and sloppy joes. You'd retain at the least two thousand half-pint containers of vitamin D-enriched chocolate milk. Two black guys from the projects, twins, were actually named Ronald and Donald MacDonald. The twins themselves only shrugged, couldn't be made to agree it was incredible.”

Quote by Jonathan Lethem

Work

The Fortress of Solitude

The book is a fictional narrative that intertwines the protagonist's personal experiences with the broader cultural and historical context of the city, offering a rich tapestry of urban life and its impact on individual development. more

Author

Jonathan Lethem
Jonathan Lethem

Jonathan Lethem is an American novelist known for his distinctive literary style and profound thematic explorations. His works often blend elements of science fiction, fantasy, and realism, delving into themes such as identity, memory, and urban culture. more

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“Змейк умел приближать свой предмет через непосредственное сравнение с учениками и проведение прямых параллелей. «А вы плавитесь при гораздо меньших температурах», — говорил он спокойно, и Афарви с Двинвен, болтавшие на задней парте, вздрагивали, перехватывали пронзительный взгляд черных глаз Змейка и начинали слушать очень внимательно.”

“What I Found in My Desk A ripe peach with an ugly bruise, a pair of stinky tennis shoes, a day-old ham-and-cheese on rye, a swimsuit that I left to dry, a pencil that glows in the dark, some bubble gum found in the park, a paper bag with cookie crumbs, an old kazoo that barely hums, a spelling test I almost failed, a letter that I should have mailed, and one more thing, I must confess, a note from teacher: Clean This Mess!!!!”

“She was probably sixty, a big rawboned woman with a man's face, and her clothes, if not her very pores, seemed always to exude that dry essence of pencil shavings and chalk dust that is the smell of school. She was strict and humorless, preoccupied with rooting out the things she held intolerable: mumbling, slumping, daydreaming, frequent trips to the bathroom, and, the worst of all, "coming to school without proper supplies."”

“School is a terrible place, I have decided. There is nothing good about it except for math class. Everything else is a total waste of time. As I mentioned before I have done a lot of reading about prisons, and I notice that they always describe them as painted in very dull colors, and my school is also painted in these kinds of colors, with greenish lockers and brownish walls and grayish floors. Actually they recently fixed up one wing of the school, and now that part of the school is just the opposite—all the colors are really bright, with bright red and yellow lockers and blue doors and shiny white floors that are already all scuffed up. It's funny because I thought the other colors were terrible but these are much worse, because they make it seem like it's normal to be happy there when it isn't.”