To people hating Joyce and Woolf and stream of conscious writing
Quote:
Originally Posted by
cassbee
I'd say "Mrs Dalloway" ugh...
I recently gave my father the story "Lord Arthur Saville's Crime" by Oscar Wilde. While he was reading it I was sitting in the same room and I found him enjoying it. But when he finished it he said it was heavy and told me not to give any more such things to read.
Without going into details about him, I'd say it was only his limitations (he is a strong moralizer and Wilde says a moralizing man is a hypocrite) that he could not enjoy reading Wilde. It is pity that one cannot enjoy reading Wilde.
D. H. Lawrence once said one of the defining traits of Modernist writing is that it is difficult to read. So it is, very difficult to read indeed. But it is the effort that one makes in reading modernist writings that opens up the mind to new worlds of reading, reading becomes more exciting that ever. I'd suggest start with Lawrence and also read commentary on modernist writings and modernism on the side.
I'm finding Mrs Dalloway difficult to read too. It is like eating food that slow that satisfying hunger no longer remains the purpose and all that remains is to savour the taste.
I sort of hated this book - I really did!
Boy, I needed something to read because I sort of ran out of books and all. I really did! I sort of asked my son suave as hell if he had any god**** books. He took a lot of crumby English classes and passed, just like the god**** main character in Catcher in the Rye. I tried to read it before, I really did, but I sort of quit reading by the third god**** chapter. Boy! It was sort of corny and all with those phony characters and phony dialogue. They kill me! But I sort of decided to keep reading like a madman and all.
It was sort of a challenge. Holden sort of reminded me of a corny kid at god**** summer camp who tries to fit in with crumby older boys with corny words and all. He’s sort of stupid, he really is, and sort of gets kicked out of his god**** school. He kills me! There are 26 god**** crumby chapters in this god**** book. He sort of takes 21 chapters to go from leaving his god**** school to get home. He really did! In between he sort of does absolutely nothing except really smoke like a madman and sort of tries to get people to talk, but nobody wants to. It kills me! Probably because he’s so god**** boring and all. I’d rather talk to an undertaker. I really do!
I sort of understand making a corny character talk really suave as hell who doesn’t want to be phony. Boy, I really did! But maybe I couldn’t get interested in this crumby thing because it’s sort of like reading a god**** appliance warranty. Boy, I can’t believe I squandered three god**** days on this really puerile nonsense, I really don’t. It was dumber than House on Mango Street. I sort of wanted to punch the god**** author in the god**** nose, I really did, but he’s dead now, and I have no one to blame but myself for this.