One summer afternoon Mrs Oedipa Maas came home from a Tupperware party whose hostess had put perhaps too much kirsch in the fondue to find that she, Oedipa, had been named executor, or she supposed ex...
One of their last days in unbroken country, the wind was blowing in the high Indian grass, and her father said, There’s your gold, Dahlia, the real article. As usual, she threw him a speculative look,...
Once they have you asking the wrong questions. They don't have to worry about the answers.
On the face of it, Vehi Fairfield said finally, two separate worlds, each unaware of the other. But they always connect someplace.
Oedipa stood in the living room, stared at by the greenish dead eye of the TV tube, spoke the name of God, tried to feel as drunk as possible. But this did not work.
Oedipa sat on the earth, ass getting cold, wondering whether, as Driblette had suggested that night from the shower, some version of herself hadn’t vanished with him. Perhaps her mind would go on flex...
Odd, yes, here in the capital of eternal youth, endless summer and all, that fear should be running the town again as in days of old, like the Hollywood blacklist you don't remember and the Watts riot...
Nothing he had brought to it of his nearest comparison, Raby with its thatch'd and benevolent romance of serfdom, had at all prepar'd him for the iron Criminality of the Cape,-- the publick Executions...
Not if you’ve been where we have. Forty years ago, in Südwest, we were nearly exterminated. There was no reason. Can you understand that? No reason. We couldn’t even find comfort in the Will of God Th...
Not everybody benefits from a misspent youth.
Non-Masons stay pretty much in the dark about What Goes On, though now and then something jumps out, exposes itself, jumps giggling back again, leaving you with few details but a lot of Awful Suspicio...
No, this is not a disentanglement from, but a progressive knotting into
No matter how the official narrative of this turns out there are the places we should be looking, not in newspapers or television but at the margins, graffiti, uncontrolled utterances, bad dreamers wh...
Near the exit to the blue patio, DeCoverley Pox and Joaquin Stick stand by a concrete scale model of the Jungfrau, ... socking the slopes of the famous mountain with red rubber hot-water bags full of...
Morning developed out the window. His right canine ached. He unreeled the long hair, beaded with saliva, tooth-tartar, mouth-breather’s morning fur, and stared at it. How’d it get here? Eerie, dearie.
Like many named places in California it was less an identifiable city than a grouping of concepts—census tracts, special purpose bond-issue districts, shopping nuclei, all overlaid with access roads t...
It's wrong because if you pick up a rifle, the Man picks up a machine gun, by the time you find some machine gun he's all set up to shoot rockets, begin to see a pattern?
It's nothing he can see or lay hands on-sudden gases, a violence upon the air and no trace afterward...a Word, spoken with no warning into your ear, and then silence forever. Beyond its invisibility,...
It's nothing he can see or lay hands on - sudden gases, a violence upon the air and no trace afterward... a Word, spoken with no warning into your ear, and then silence forever. Beyond its invisibilit...
It would all be done with keys on alphanumeric keyboards that stood for weightless, invisible chains of electronic presence or absence. If patterns of ones and zeroes were like patterns of human lives...