/lit/ - Literature

>>22443135
LARPing morons thinking there's some mystery or profundity to it... some of them dont know about Chamberlain and think BM is some great work of fiction. The reality is it's a literary hoax, and a pretty funny one at that. Like American Psycho, if you're not laughing through it, it went over your head.

Suttree is obviously superior.

>>21605934
can't write either lol wtf

>>20582820
lol thank God

>>20220276
>>20220277
I think you've been duped. I definitely overrated BM for years. I reread it recently and was shocked. The Road and The Orchard Keeper are absolutely higher quality. Blood Meridian is goofy as hell. It goes from laugh out loud bad to simple cringe and eye rolling.

The book My Confession: The Recollections of a Rogue is back in print. You can pull it off libgen if you're interested. It has McCarthy's sources for Holden, which were basically inaccessible until 2019. There wasn't much invention around the character, Chamberlain describes the same guy, a number of the same scenes.

>>19608445
Because it's not a masterpiece. It's good, maybe (maybe) a little better than White Noise. It generates no discussion, as you can see. I wouldn't say it was overlong, believe it or not. I enjoyed it as a nice smooth read. The Lenny Bruce part was my favorite. Nothing real deep going on though. Kys.

>>19562299
>Make "inspiration" and other bourgeois concepts alien to your writing.
Inspiration is bourgeois? What are the other bourgeois concepts?

>Read every morning for at least an hour, good prose, and then sit down after coffee and write a certain amount of words or pages. Do this everyday.
Is this before writing after waking?

>and tear your writing to pieces
Okay, NOW we're bourgeoise fucking LOL

>You must read it aloud to catch little words like articles.
If you're ESL, sure

>This advice comes from a published academic author
Dropped. You should have led off with that.

>Mulligan in turn is a palpable portrait of Oliver St. John Gogarty: a medical doctor, Irish Free State politician, dubious poet, friend of Yeats, and later a denizen of Manhattan, where he supported himself by writing tedious memoirs and spent much of his time in bars, drinking heavily. I myself several times sat with him and other roustabouts in the White Horse Tavern in the mid-1950s but learned to avoid Gogarty, since his rancidity was unbounded.