(off) Dombey & Son

[Pak Chong]

Hello and hello, my new dear friends.
I have a question for those who have read the magnificent book of Charles Dickens entitled Dombey and Son.
I was reading the book and i liked it pretty much, especially that boy, the son of Mr Dombey, who showed every prospect of becoming a man of profound wisdom and kindness, like that guy, Rabindranath Tagore. But, somehow, he has died at the page of 200 or so. As there are still 400 odd pages to go, i wonder is the rest worth reading or not.

Worth or is not worth?

[Alexander Oshis]

Hm. It depends on the meaning of life, I reckon.

[Pak Chong]

Hello, Alexander Oshis. I do appreciate your prompt response, but life itself has shown and is always showing that it hasn't any. meaning i mean.

[Bramble]

Pak Chong Wait till winter and read it then (if you could still recall what's happened on previous 200 pages).

[San-Sanych]

If there is no sense in life, their is no sense in reading... I guess.

[San-Sanych]

there...sorry

[Pak Chong]

your bizarre responses make me feel lonely and flabbergasted deep in my heart, my dear friends. this kind of ostracizement could end up committing suicide.
Why wait till winter? Is that because in Russia it's always cold and snowing in the winter and you get this terrible red nose, gets bitten by bears on the streets and prefer to stay inside, and there's nothing left to do but read old fat books? This is not the case, then, because I live in Spain, as you could have well guessed from my name and it's hot here. no bears.I still hold that there's no meaning in life, but it does not mean that you cannot have fun out of it or satisfy your aesthetic sense through some brilliant novels. see my point? meanwhile i have read another 150 pages and i, for one, cannot tell they're worth time spent.

[Pak Chong]

Hola, my very dear and close friends, my pals and comrades. It's me, Pak Chong, again as lonely and as flabbergasted deep deep in my heart as ever; right on the verge of shedding my salty tears down the tawny delicate cheeks.
the reason for this week's heart flabbergastment is that short dialogue between Yevtushenko and Shukshin that strikes me numb. I have been turning that dialogue over and over in my head for over two days now and yet it still feels vaguely unsettling.
it is very short and runs like this:
"Ты же вырос в Сибири, на станции Зима, а носишь галстук-бабочку, как последний пижон!" said Shukshin to that bookish guy Yevtushenko.
"А твои кирзовые — не пижонство?" - the poet retorted.

here is the question for you my dear friends and pals and comrades which i cannot decide for myself and need your opinion which i hope would settle the issue for me: if it came to taking sides, whom would you go with? as simple as that. nothing more.

[123:]

Pak Chong ... probably they deceived you when selling this book - the guy - Charles Dickens - is dead long ago ... so who cares what he wrote ... it is not worth worrying about it anymore ... read advertising, watch TV, consume fresh food ... get rich and happy!.. life is too short to waste it on such stupid things like reading ...

[Pak Chong]

qué va, my comrade. life's indeed too short but not for things like reading a good book. i've read some other novels of his and what i liked in them was characters. but in this one book there was only one i really liked -- that guy who perished at the page of 200 or so.

Bible is too written quite a while ago, but when i read it it was fresh. a good book is something in the reader, not in the book itself. you see?
the rich and happy are actually not at all rich and happy. i've seen some. a rotten bunch.

[Codeater]

Еще один "интеллектуал" (банить на хрен с ходу не дожидаясь перитонита). Опять же напоминает по стилю одного персонажа, которого я выжил из форума Лингво.