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Iain Banks

The Bridge

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The man who wakes up in the extraordinary world of a bridge has amnesia, and his doctor doesn’t seem to want to cure him. Does it matter? Exploring the bridge occupies most of his days. But at night there are his dreams. Dreams in which desperate men drive sealed carriages across barren mountains to a bizarre rendezvous; an illiterate barbarian storms an enchanted tower under a stream of verbal abuse; and broken men walk forever over bridges without end, taunted by visions of a doomed sexuality.
Lying in bed unconscious after an accident wouldn’t be much fun, you’d think. Oh yes? It depends who and what you’ve left behind.
Which is the stranger reality, day or night? Frequently hilarious and consistently disturbing, The Bridge is a novel of outrageous contrasts, constructed chaos and elegant absurdities.
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  • Alexandra Serebryakovaje citiralaprije 5 godina
    Nicely run-in brain here doc; one careful owner (ahem); didn't even take it to church on Sundays..
  • Alexandra Serebryakovaje citiralaprije 5 godina
    He gave money to Live Aid all right, but his first thought when he heard of the Band Aid record had been about the revolutionary adage which compared giving to charity under capitalism to putting a Band-aid on a cancer.
  • Alexandra Serebryakovaje citiralaprije 5 godina
    They kept returning to this. Emotional sense versus logic. He believed in a sort of Unified Field Theory of the consciousness; it was there to be understood, emotions and feelings and logical thought together; a whole, an entity however disparate in its hypotheses and results which nevertheless worked throughout on the same fundamental principles. It would all eventually be comprehended; it was just a matter of time, and research. It seemed so obvious to him that he had great and genuine difficulty understanding anybody else's point of view.

    'You know,' he said, 'if I had my way I wouldn't let anybody who believed in star signs or the Bible or faith healing or anything like that use electric power, or ride in cars and buses and trains and aircraft, or use anything made of plastic. They want to believe the universe works according to their crazy little rules? OK, let them live that way, but why should they be allowed to use the fruits of sheer fucking human genius and hard work, things produced only because people better than them once had the sense and the hope to

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