As a society, we are fascinated by fictional psychopaths. Humankind has an ‘ongoing… fascination with tales of gruesome murders and evil villain. Popular culture abounds with depictions of the mad and the bad; and aberrant psychology has proved a fertile source of such material to the novelist and the reader alike. Perhaps no single disorder holds as much morbid cultural appeal as psychopathy.
There is no question… that readers feel empathy with and sympathy for fictional characters and other aspects of fictional worlds’, yet it is difficult to see how one can empathise and identify with a character who is himself incapable of empathy. If empathy and identification are both the goal and the reward of reading literature, then we are left with a striking ambivalence which needs to be explored.
Sorry, for not being very active on tumblr lately, but I have to finish up last school works and I’ll be back! :)
In architecture, our lines will measure
A map to find us.
Blue ink will guide us home.
“Sometimes at night, I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the flat fields. When I look back from a distance, the house is like a boat on the sea. It’s really the only time I feel safe.”
why caN’T I JUST MEET A GUY WHO LOVES THINGS I DO AND DOESN’T THINK I’M AN UGLY PIECE OF SHIT
and will they take my life in time?
- or will i take my own?
