“Rebus drank his coffee and felt his head spin. He was feeling like the detective in a cheap thriller, and wished that he could turn to the last page and stop all his confusion, all the death and the madness and the spinning in his ears.”
In this quote from Ian Rankin's novel, the protagonist Rebus is feeling overwhelmed by the chaos and uncertainty surrounding him. The mention of feeling like a detective in a cheap thriller highlights the sense of disorientation and unpredictability that he is experiencing. His desire to turn to the last page and end all the confusion, death, and madness reveals his longing for resolution and closure in the midst of the chaos. The imagery of his head spinning and ears ringing conveys the psychological and emotional toll that the events have taken on him. Overall, this quote captures the struggle of a protagonist trying to make sense of a world in turmoil.
In this quote from Ian Rankin's novel, "Rebus" is feeling overwhelmed and desperate for answers. In today's fast-paced and information-saturated world, many people can relate to the feeling of confusion and chaos that comes with trying to make sense of everything around them. The desire to fast forward to the end and find resolution is a universal sentiment, especially in a time when we are constantly bombarded with news, social media updates, and endless distractions.
"Rebus drank his coffee and felt his head spin. He was feeling like the detective in a cheap thriller, and wished that he could turn to the last page and stop all his confusion, all the death and the madness and the spinning in his ears." - Ian Rankin
When Rebus feels like a character in a cheap thriller, do you think this is a reflection of his current state of mind or the situation he is in?
In what ways do you think turning to the last page of a book could stop confusion, death, madness, and spinning sensations for Rebus?
How do you think Rebus's desire to stop the confusion and chaos in his life reflects his character and personal struggles?
“It can happen to anybody, getting all hung up on some twenty-year-old quiff. Like the little dog in the freight yard, and the train nips off the end of his tail and he yelps and spins around and it cuts off his head. Never lose your head over a piece of tail.”
“He strained his ears, and the darkness felt heavier than before. Oppressive.“We’re hungry.” That came from behind him.“They smell tasty,” a voice to his left hissed.“I don’t like this,” Andrew said, feeling like the world around them was spinning with voices, taunting, echoing them.“I don’t like this,” a voice parroted. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this. I don’t like this.”
“At that instant he knew that all his doubts, even the impossibility of believing with his reason, of which he was aware in himself, did not in the least hinder his turning to God. All of that now floated out of his soul like dust. To whom was he to turn if not to Him in whose hands he felt himself, his soul, and his love?”
“He turns off the techno-shit in his goggles. All it does is confuse him; he stands there reading statistics about his own death even as it's happening to him. Very post-modern.”
“He liked the mere act of reading, the magic of turning scratches on a page into words inside his head.”