Absolutely toxic read, but it did get me hooked on reading again. Plus, I was single at the time and it made me feel like I was in the middle of a messy and exciting relationship, just minus having to experience the trauma.
During shooting of the movie, the actual themes of the book: abuse , power, retaliation, somehow leaked into real life and Blake Lively the co star complained that the men at the set had repeatedly violated physical boundaries and made sexual and other inappropriate comments to her.
You truly truly can’t make this stuff up.
May 6, 2025
Related Recs
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I read this one a few weeks ago, but wanted to wait until I saw the movie before diving into my thoughts. Both start extremely similar, down to some exact word-for-word scenes, and the plot points are all the same, but the movie takes some creative license to show what’s going on for the main characters mentally that the book doesn't. This works in favor for both the book and movie. In the book's case you're left guessing, confused, and trying to pick apart every tiny detail til the very end. The author is continuously sneaking small details/hints past you without raising alarm, and at the end I found myself looking back to see a whole different story. This isn't to say I didn't see the twist coming, but it was done in a way that left plenty of good stuff to pick apart after you‘ve finished.
Oct 2, 2020
Directed by Charlie Kaufman
I’ve heard it makes more sense if you read the book first, but it still gives you too much to think about
Dec 29, 2024
“Oh, that book.” Yes.
I feel like It is thought of more often as a concept of a book/story or dismissed with a “Yeah, yeah” rather than considered an actual thing you can sit down and read. Not that it is generally despised (other than *that* scene, and yes, I completely agree), but I feel as if so few people care enough to try reading it. And with its massively popular adaptation into the 2017/2019 films, the way It as a story is viewed by the public has completely changed, and today’s tweens probably don’t even know who the director of the films is, let alone Stephen King.
Last summer, I read this book. I started it at the beach at home, but on that fateful day, the waves crashed onto my family’s belongings, taking with them a lunchbox of fruits and one flip-flop of mine (RIP). The next day, we left for a five-day trip, so I was stuck with a very old, very waterlogged, engorged, warped copy of the book. On the very long car rides over the next days, I knocked out over half of It, and spent scorching days by the pool doing the same. On the way home, I began to wrap it up.
When I got back, a hardcover was waiting in the mail for me. And with the last moments of my carefree summer days, I sat in the sunset with my brand new copy of an old story, living vicariously through 7 kids experiencing their last summer together. The red light of the fading yet radiant sunset shone onto my face, and the darkness settled in as I turned the last page.
I have never felt so many things at once. With me, I carried a palpable yet arguably unfounded sense of nostalgia endlessly afterward, and I felt as if I had lived through multiple childhoods and adulthoods in just one summer. I felt devastated and content, hopeless and happy. There is no one emotion I could tie to experiencing 1153 pages of It. It’s just It. It amazes me that on my shelf is an entire world, embossed with the proud “FROM THE LIBRARY OF,” expectant, waiting to be reopened, re-experienced, relived.
This summer will forever be engrained in my memory, and although I say this as a young person, the summer I spent in Sequoia Tree Park amidst gargantuan trees and rolling mountainscapes is the summer I grew up with seven Losers, just trying to get by and go forth with their lives.
Jan 28, 2025
Top Recs from @chilly_olive_heron
— untangling a necklace with a needle for someone
(my dad used to do this for me when I was younger, felt like such a delicate ritual)
— sitting on a couch with someone (aka your current crush) and both caressing a cat that’s between you and the other person
…a silent „we’re both here, coexisting, vibing„ moment
— braiding someone’s hair
(the gentle tug, the trust, the rhythm)
— tuning a violin or a guitar
(recently watched my friend do this and she was so intimate with her instrument, fine-tuning every string, taking her time… it was kinda mesmerizing)
— asking someone about their perfume
(I noticed you, I want to remember how you smell)
— people in busy public places that close their eyes and hold still for a moment just to soak in some precious sunrays
Loved this question!
Jan 19, 2025
Is a Soviet sci-fi film (by Andrew Tarkowski) that follows three guys who head into this mysterious area called "The Zone."
There’s supposedly a room there that grants your deepest wish, but it’s a weird, eerie place that messes with your mind.
The whole thing feels surreal and philosophical, making you think about life, desires, and what we’re all really after.
It’s haunting, beautifully shot, and sticks with you long after it’s over
Oct 26, 2024
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In German, Weltschmerz-literally “world-pain”-is that melancholic realization that the world, with all its flaws, suffering, and brokenness, falls painfully short of how we feel it should be. It’s not just personal sadness, it’s more like an intellectual reckoning with the gap between reality and its potential beauty.
Right now, the world’s on fire (literally and figuratively), and Weltschmerz captures the vibe perfectly. Think of it as a big, collective sigh-beautifully sad, hopelessly existential, but also oddly comforting, like listening to a Lana Del Rey song. Or the 2012 tumblr era.
When I was a teenager, I’d feel down out of nowhere-like a weird, weighty sadness without a clear cause. My mom would look at me and say, “Ahhh, Weltschmerz,” like it explained everything. And honestly? It kind of did. It wasn’t about a bad grade or drama with friends. It was just there, this intangible ache tied to something bigger, like feeling the weight of the world without knowing why.
the twist is: Weltschmerz, rooted in Romanticism, isn’t entirely hopeless. Yeah, it aches, but it’s the kind of ache that inspires. Great art, big ideas, it all comes from that mix of sadness and longing for something better. So yeah, Weltschmerz might be beautifully tragic, but it’s also a quiet relief, like sighing out everything heavy and feeling a little more connected, a little more human!
Jan 12, 2025