tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post1482422581998866874..comments2023-09-16T19:12:43.147+09:00Comments on The Hired Tongue: An Open Letter to a Cyclopean ModernistJoe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-40890431083071696602006-12-08T09:48:00.000+09:002006-12-08T09:48:00.000+09:00Wow, I am totally impressed that you made it throu...Wow, I am totally impressed that you made it through <i>Portrait</i> even once, let alone twice! I tried to read it once, about a year ago, maybe two. And I just couldn't. I think it's because of TV. When I was in France, without a TV, I found that written action and imagery were suddenly much, much clearer than they ever had been. I read books that had always posed great difficulty (because I couldn't follow the action) with ease and delight. <i>Indiana</i>, by George Sand, is a fabulous book that I could never get into at home because I just had no idea what was going on - but in France, it was as clear as if I was seeing it for myself! Maybe if I were to stop watching TV for 6 months, I'd be able to make it past the first twenty pages of <i>Portrait</i>, but as it stands, that book might as well be Greek. (And it's so sad - I'm a good reader! I like books of all kinds! I hate being the kind of person who can't follow Joycean prose!) But it is both who and where we are when we read that determines how we experience a book. Which is why it's always good to reread things and try to read the things we once failed. Except <i>The DaVinci Code</i>. That book is clearly, objectively, and undeniably the worst thing ever written. And I am including Powell's entire Occult Thriller Romance section in the equation when making that statement.Sydneyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17360198761136198922noreply@blogger.com