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Quote by Malcolm Bradbury

“One can always satisfy oneself, I suppose; it's other people one can't satisfy. One thinks one's way of life is sound and then comes an external vision to say: you are a fake, you are nothing, you're animal and must die, and no one will know you were ever here. It's an intimation of the whole absurdity of what you are and do. It's the worst kind of despair.”

Quote by Malcolm Bradbury

Book:Eating people is wrong
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Work

Eating people is wrong

The book presents a satirical examination of academic life and human relationships, focusing on the interactions among faculty members and students at a provincial English university. Through its title and narrative, it challenges conventional ideas about propriety and ethical behavior, using wit and irony to critique societal expectations. The story unfolds as characters navigate personal and professional dilemmas, revealing the complexities of human nature and the often arbitrary nature of social rules. more

Author

Malcolm Bradbury
Malcolm Bradbury

Malcolm Bradbury was an English author known for his science fiction and postmodernist literature. His works often explore themes of technology, culture, and social change, with 'W------+Z' and 'The History Man' being his most famous novels. more

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“And with a relentlessness that comes from the world's depths, with a persistence that strikes the keys metaphysically, the scales of a piano student keep playing over and over, up and down the physical backbone of my memory. It's the old streets with other people, the same streets that today are different; it's dead people speaking to me through the transparency of their absence; it's remorse for what I did or didn't do; it's the rippling of streams in the night, noises from below in the quiet building. I feel like screaming inside my head. I want to stop, to break, to smash this impossible phonograph record that keeps playing inside me, where it doesn't belong, an intangible torturer. I want my soul, a vehicle taken over by others, to let me off and go on without me. I'm going crazy from having to hear. And in the end it is I – in my odiously impressionable brain, in my thin skin, in my hypersensitive nerves – who am the keys played in scales, O horrible and personal piano of our memory.”

SoulDespairMemoryAutismHypersensitivityNo Skin
Book:The Book of Disquiet
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