Austenland lmaooo

I came across that one in the wild and still makes me giggle

“To Colin Firth: You’re a really great guy but I’m married so I think we should just be friends”

“For all those who have to fight for the respect that everyone else is given without question.”

• NK Jemisin, The Fifth Season

Not a dedication as such, but the Author’s Note in Dorothy L Sayers’ Murder Must Advertise (set in a newspaper/advertising agency) always makes me laugh.

“I do not suppose that there is a more harmless and law-abiding set of people in the world than the Advertising Experts of Great Britain. The idea that any crime could possibly be perpetrated on Advertising premises is one that could only occur to the ill-regulated fancy of a detective novelist, trained to fasten the guilt upon the Most Unlikely Person. If, in the course of this fantasy, I have unintentionally used a name or slogan suggestive of any existing person, firm or commodity, it is by sheer accident, and is not intended to cast the slightest reflection upon any actual commodity, firm or person.”

“Favourite” is the wrong word, but Rebecca West’s dedication in Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, her travelogue of pre-WW2 Yugoslavia gives me goosebumps every time I read it or think about it. Published in 1941, after the Nazi invasion. It reads:

“To my friends in Yugoslavia, who are now all dead or enslaved.”

All of Nabokov’s works are “To Vera” but that’s probably because she does the typing for him and will probably kick his ass if he didnt do it

To those whose favourite Color is morally grey ~ Twisted Lies Ana Huang And This is for the ones that lost their voice. This is for the ones that wish they were Lana Myers. This is for the ones people still whisper about. This is for the ones that fight every single day to forget. You are not alone.

Tim Hoover Chuck Cosby Nathan Malone Jeremy Hoyt

So many names left to go …

Einstein said, “The weak revenge. The strong forgive. The intelligent ignore.”

Fuck that Einstein wasn’t always right.

Revenge is a dish best served cold… now that I agree with. It means that they forget you’re coming for them, and their screams sound so much prettier when their time finally comes. ~ The Risk (the mindfu*k series) S. T. Abby

Long I know

Stephen King Fan here, and often I listen to audiobooks for my rereads. Stephen king does a dedication to Frank Muller, who recorded the audiobook versions of a good number of Kings books, and who was in an unfortunate motorcycle accident and passed on.

“For Frank Muller, who hears the voices in my head.”

Didn’t understand the impact until I started listening to the audiobooks Frank did.

“To my sister Laura, who can understand, and to our sister Molly, who cannot.” Douglas Hofstadter in “I Am A Strange Loop”

Samantha Irby has dedicated her books to Zoloft and Wellbutrin :D

Tad Williams in his “Otherland” series, dedicates the books to his father:

“This Book is dedicated to my father Joseph Hill Evans with love. Actually Dad doesn’t read fiction, so if someone doesn’t tell him about this, he’ll never know.”

“This Book is dedicated to my father Joseph Hill Evans with love. As I said before, Dad doesn’t read fiction. He still hasn’t noticed that this thing is dedicated to him. This is Volume Two – let’s see how man more until he catches on.”

“This is still dedicated to you-know-who, even if he doesn’t. Maybe we can keep this a secret all the way to the final volume.”

"My father still hasn’t actually cracked any of the books – so, no, he still hasn’t noticed. I think I’m just going to have to tell him. Maybe I should break it to him gently.

‘Everyone here who hasn’t had a book dedicated to them, take three steps forward. Whoops, Dad, hang on there for a second…’ "

Brazilian Author, Machado de Assis, in his book Posthumous Memories of Brás Cubas.

“I dedicate these posthumous memories to the worm that first gnawed at the cold flesh of my corpse.”

This book is a masterpiece.

Philip K Dicks “Scanner Darkly” always make me feel emotional:

This has been a novel about some people who were punished entirely too much for what they did. They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed—run over, maimed, destroyed—but they continued to play anyhow. We really all were very happy for a while, sitting around not toiling but just bullshitting and playing, but it was for such a terrible brief time, and then the punishment was beyond belief: even when we could see it, we could not believe it…. For a while I myself was one of these children playing in the street; I was, like the rest of them, trying to play instead of being grown up, and I was punished. I am on the list below, which is a list of those to whom this novel is dedicated, and what became of each.

Drug misuse is not a disease, it is a decision, like the decision to step out in front of a moving car. You would call that not a disease but an error in judgment. When a bunch of people begin to do it, it is a social error, a life-style. In this particular life-style the motto is “Be happy now because tomorrow you are dying.” But the dying begins almost at once, and the happiness is a memory. It is, then, only a speeding up, an intensifying, of the ordinary human existence. It is not different from your life-style, it is only faster. It all takes place in days or weeks or months instead of years. “Take the cash and let the credit go,” as Villon said in 1460. But that is a mistake if the cash is a penny and the credit a whole lifetime.

There is no moral in this novel; it is not bourgeois; it does not say they were wrong to play when they should have toiled; it just tells what the consequences were. In Greek drama they were beginning, as a society, to discover science, which means causal law. Here in this novel there is Nemesis: not fate, because any one of us could have chosen to stop playing in the street, but, as I narrate from the deepest part of my life and heart, a dreadful Nemesis for those who kept on playing. So, though, was our entire nation at this time. This novel is about more people than I knew personally. Some we all read about in the newspapers. It was, this sitting around with our buddies and bullshitting while making tape-recordings, the bad decision of the decade, the sixties, both in and out of the establishment. And nature cracked down on us. We were forced to stop by things dreadful.

If there was any ‘sin’, it was that these people wanted to keep on having a good time forever, and were punished for that, but, as I say, I feel that, if so, the punishment was far too great, and I prefer to think of it only in a Greek or morally neutral way, as mere science, as deterministic impartial cause-and-effect. I loved them all. Here is the list, to whom I dedicate my love:

To Gaylene deceased

To Ray deceased

To Francy permanent psychosis

To Kathy permanent brain damage

To Jim deceased

To Val massive permanent brain damage

To Nancy permanent psychosis

To Joanne permanent brain damage

To Maren deceased

To Nick deceased

To Terry deceased

To Dennis deceased

To Phil permanent pancreatic damage

To Sue permanent vascular damage

To Jerri permanent psychosis and vascular damage

…and so forth.

In Memoriam. These were comrades whom I had; there are no better. They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven. The ‘enemy’ was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.

From James Rollins:

“To Anne Rice

For showing us the beauty in monsters

And the monstrous in the beautiful”

In The Blood Gospel by Rollins and Rebecca Cantrell

I always thought it was a great one.

It’s at the end of the afterward instead of the dedication, but I liked Stephen Graham Jones’ “My heart is a chainsaw, but you’re the one who starts it.”

A former student wrote a novel and dedicated it to his middle school ELA teacher. The ELA teacher was one of my favorite coworkers, and to see a book dedicated to him was really heartwarming.