This noble and hazardous calling, which we call criticism, is more art than science. It lives in the blood and consists of a primordial and sardonic instinct, an inspired tendentiousness, if you will.
As a longtime practitioner of the art of fiction writing and a committed reader of the works of others, I have been thinking a great deal about the impact of the proliferating film/TV industry on the future of reading.
There are plenty of writers who have had the option of going down the more traditional path, only to opt for self-publishing. The internet leveled the playing field for writers across the board.
They’re literary, they’re obscure and they’re so trivial that even the wonkiest of book wonks will be impressed
“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” – Margaret Mitchell, Gone With The Wind
It’s supposed to evoke, to stir, to resonate inside us. And if it doesn’t, we’re not at fault: the writing is.
How well do you know Russian literature… Or my boss?
Bookworms tend to have a bad reputation in the dating scene. For some reason, people tend to assume that liking books is the same as disliking people. Actually, it is the other way around. While bookworms probably don’t enjoy making awkward small talk and observing strict social conventions, we are passionate about the human condition, what makes people tick, and the meaning of life.
“Oleander time,” she said. “Lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind.”
“Without passion or haste, they shot their prisoners, who were forced to approach the trench one by one and offer their necks. Infants were tossed into the air and used as targets for the machine guns.”