I do disagree with you that the book is short though. According to Wikipedia it's 4215 pages, which I believe is correct.
I do disagree with you that the book is short though. According to Wikipedia it's 4215 pages, which I believe is correct.
...Nabokov being a good example of a person who never shied away from making sweeping value judgements about authors, but was usually willing to back up what he said with examples.
I read your linked article by Nabokov, and suffice it to say that I don't agree. And, yes, I do recall the very passages quoted in the article since I have read it before.
A good writer would have been capable of conveying the same message with the same emotion, but with sentences that does not require the reader to concentrate to the point of it being work to actually read the thing.
When reading it, I used to feel a sense of accomplishment after every few pages. That's a pretty good feeling, and if it was hard to really understand what the author wanted to say, it must be better than that simple writing by lesser authors such as Tolstoy, right? (yes, the last part was irony)
Well, arguing about literature never really leads anywhere. I'd rather argue about why Emacs is better than every other editor than talk about authors that I don't even enjoy reading.
>> Well, arguing about literature never really leads anywhere.
A problem with the inherent subjectivity of art in general, I suppose. But nonetheless, it can be an enjoyable past-time if kept civil and respectful. Anyway, I appreciate you explaining what it is that you don't like about Proust, even if we don't see eye-to-eye.
Based on what you have said so far, I get the impression that you admire handiwork of actually constructing a 4000+ page novel of this kind. In that respect I can actually agree with you. It is indeed a remarkable work in many ways. But, it is my opinion that in terms of a vessel for conveying a compelling story, it completely fails.
Can you say that you actually enjoyed reading the book? Or did you appreciation stem from a feeling of accomplisment that you managed to plow through something that few people succeed in reading?
I can happily admit that I was not able to complete it. Once I realised that it wasn't going to improve, I just stopped.
Sure, you can look at it as some kind of art piece, but I would not call it good writing.