What did you guys think of Moore's prose in this excerpt of his new novel?
So here it is for those of you who don't want to visit that site:
>In the half a square mile of decay and demolition that was England’s Saxon capital, eternity is loitering between the firetrap tower blocks. Embedded in the grubby amber of the district’s narrative among its saints, kings, prostitutes and derelicts a different kind of human time is happening, a soiled simultaneity that does not differentiate between the petrol-coloured puddles and the fractured dreams of those who navigate them. Fiends last mentioned in the Book of Tobit wait in urine-scented stairwells, the delinquent spectres of unlucky children undermine a century with tunnels, and in upstairs parlours labourers with golden blood reduce fate to a snooker tournament.
>Disappeared lanes yield their own voices, built from lost words and forgotten dialect, to speak their broken legends and recount their startling genealogies, family histories of shame and madness and the marvellous. There is a conversation in the thunderstruck dome of St. Paul’s cathedral, childbirth on the cobblestones of Lambeth Walk, an estranged couple sitting all night on the cold steps of a Gothic church-front, and an infant choking on a cough drop for eleven chapters. An art exhibition is in preparation, and above the world a naked old man and a beautiful dead baby race along the Attics of the Breath towards the heat death of the universe.
>An opulent mythology for those without a pot to piss in, through the labyrinthine streets and pages of Jerusalem tread ghosts that sing of wealth and poverty; of Africa, and hymns, and our threadbare millennium. They discuss English as a visionary language from John Bunyan to James Joyce, hold forth on the illusion of mortality post-Einstein, and insist upon the meanest slum as Blake’s eternal holy city. Fierce in its imagining and stupefying in its scope, this is the tale of everything, told from a vanished gutter.
>File: angry_moore.jpg (116 KB, 720x482)
He's an interesting case study: so talented with genre -trash -metafiction but so clueless about prose. The imbalance was confusing and he convinced himself he was a shaman-wizard. It almost makes sense if you think in terms of his POV.
tried to read it 3 times and kept glazing over. finally I powered through my 4th time.
Its that kind of writing where I cant point out anything wrong, and I don't even feel its boring, but my mind just wanders off it after a couple sentences.
I think this is symptomatic of writers you don't trust to have a payoff.
I did the same thing. I kept wanting to rip it to shreds but it's not technically bad. It's just not good. Somebody has to tell him, "Hey bud, maybe we should rethink this. Do a bit of a rewrite, here?" I mean, someone in his life has to be seeing purple, right?
His prose makes much more sense if you've heard him speak. You have to do something you people would only do with authors you trust (or more likely know you are supposed to consider good), and that is reading it slowly. By reading it like you would anything posted here, you are putting your parsing process at odds with effort it isn't prepared for. And at the juncture between "interesting" and "pretentious", this coming from a non-approved source is always going to make you take a right turn.
That said, some sentences sound rather abrupt in this. Comma patterns I'm not used to, at least. From what I've seen in Voice of the Fire his prose is certainly never transparent, but hopefully the book catches its own rhythm.
>Voice of the Fire
I haven't read this since I was underageb& but I remember enjoying the first story with Hob and the retard kid, then putting the book down halfway through the 2nd story.
>His prose makes much more sense if you've heard him speak
this, I think it could even be seen as a strenght but it demands that you hive him a chance and/or hear him read some of his material. If anything there is some decent rhythm if you assume it's supposed to be like that.