You Learn To Move On Without The

Michel Houellebecq Is The Most Interesting, Provocative And Important European Novelist Of My Generation. Period. No One Else Comes Close. He Has Written Two Or Maybe Three Great Books, And His Latest, The Map And The Territory, Is One Of Them.

And," Price Adds, Smiling, "if Another Round Of Bellinis Comes Within A Twenty-foot Radius Of Our Table We Are Going To Set The Maitre D' On Fire. So You Know, Warn Him.

The Seals Stupidly Dive Off Rocks Into Swirling Black Water, Barking Mindlessly. The Zookeepers Feed Them Dead Fish. A Crowd Gathers Around The Tank, Mostly Adults, A Few Accompanied By Children. On The Seals' Tank A Plaque Warns: Coins Can Kill——if Swallowed, Coins Can Lodge In An Animal's Stomach And Cause Ulcers, Infections And Death. Do Not Throw Coins In The Pool. So What Do I Do? Toss A Handful Of Change Into The Tank When None Of The Zookeepers Are Watching. It's Not The Seals I Hate——it's The Audience's Enjoyment Of Them That Bothers Me.

Where There Was Nature And Earth, Life And Water, I Saw A Desert Landscape That Was Unending, Resembling Some Sort Of Crater, So Devoid Of Reason And Light And Spirit That The Mind Could Not Grasp It On Any Sort Of Conscious Level And If You Came Close The Mind Would Reel Backward, Unable To Take It In. It Was A Vision So Clear And Real And Vital To Me That In Its Purity It Was Almost Abstract. This Was What I Could Understand, This Was How I Lived My Life, What I Constructed My Movement Around, How I Dealt With The Tangible.

But This Road Doesn't Go Anywhere,” I Told Him. “that Doesn't Matter.” “what Does?” I Asked, After A Little While. “just That We're On It, Dude,” He Said.