Archived threads in /lit/ - Literature - 1129. page

It LITERALLY wouldn't

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>>9487376
OH but it does!
Sorry if the image is rotated 90 degrees

>>9487390
do you have the wrist movements of a child? big mousepads are where its at

Who are you quoting?

Literally one of the worst I've ever read. If I wanted to hear a egotistic ramblings of a troubled young man, I would just listen to the voice in my head

>>9487259
Spring Snow

>>9487186
read more and actually pay attention to the writing that is to say focus on the style tone and diction

for your case read more game reviews that are published by some mediocre site

>>9487186
are you just writing a summary every time you write a review? learn how to extend simple things into a couple paragraphs, this is a vital part of writing as a whole

>>9487186
You are probably saying what you have to say, giving hard info, but I think most review-readers are there to stroke their dicks thinking about what a good/bad game they just played and how you agree with them.

Maybe read Cracked and get a handle on the "engaging," low-info style?

>>9487142
>he doesn't already have the titles for his next 5 novels decided on
never gonna make it

Maybe he did, but I think it's more likely that it's just a coincidence

>>9487142
Interesting. Is Bleeding Edge in there too?

>>9487142
yes, his next book is gonna be called Out the Crevice

Take notes, summarize, and reread. All that good stuff.

>>9487131
I just started this with my most recent book, I was mostly curious if that was too much work.

I felt that I should be comprehending things better. I guess it's all still learning.

Do you do this for novels? What do you do if you are reading on the train/bus? I often have the most time during commutes.

>>9487151
>I just started this with my most recent book, I was mostly curious if that was too much work.


It depends on what you're reading. I don't do it for novels, only informational texts. It doesn't have to be particularly long notes, just find whatever works for you.

>I felt that I should be comprehending things better. I guess it's all still learning.

Read slow and don't be afraid to reread complex sentences. Practice makes perfect.

>What do you do if you are reading on the train/bus?

I don't typically read during these, but you can pass on notes sometimes. Try and summarize what you read late. If you can't, reread.

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>leakage of stool

>>9487061
FUCK
OFF

I WANT DECKLED EDGES
I WANT BOOKS WITH UNCUT PAGES, NOT SO I MAY EXPERIENCE THE INCONVENIENCE IN SOME MISGUIDED ATTEMPT TO EXPERIENCE TIMES LONG DEAD BUT SO THAT I MAY EXPERIENCE THE FINAL AESTHETIC OF A VOLUME THAT HAS BEEN IMPRECISELY, ERGO HUMANLY, CUT.

>>9487079
THIS

ovid's metamorphosis

Sorry for the cancerous picture, on my phone the thumbnail looked like a nicelandscape. I don't know why I have that saved

>>9487044

I like it but that is probably because of my intense desire to subjugate lesser beings

more like cognitive dissonance

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>>9486777
That's what makes it so relatable

IT'S SATIRE BRO XD

like as a drug? I don't know if it does anything

Why not learn

>>9486723
well it's good for combating some poisonings. OP's on the wrong board >>>/ic/

The essay continually defies strict definition or classification for me. It frustrates me as well. Every submission that has come back with a high grade or praise has been the result of a late-night, stream-of-consciousness exercise. Any attempt of a focused effort or parsimony has only led to further frustration, missing deadlines or failing to submit entirely.

>>9486624
this. when I write late at night the day before the due date I get 90-100%. When I plan ahead and write during daytime, I get 70-80%

>>9486624
>>9486654

Same experience. The harder I try, the worse I do.

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w-why don't y-you read him p-pleb! y+you didn't get it!!!

I accepted it long ago and never looked back.

Reminder that neechee is chicken soup for the pseud

That was a very empassioned appeal, OP. Based in emotion, I would say.

>Are her translations any good
Yes.

>>9486492
Thanks

Don't listen to the poster above, while her sentences flow together well, they sound excessively "English" and all her translated books have the bad habit of being told in a similar voice, which clearly is unlikely when you jump from Tolstoy to Dostoevsky and such.

I can't cite any examples off the top of my head, but there's this one in Crime and Punishment I believe when she shortens an entire paragraph of description to just one meager-sounding sentence that's just an English idiom

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>>9486245
The soul is NOT a smithy.

I don't get it

>How does /lit/ feel about Joyce

/lit/'s Mangum

>and especially The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man?

Overshadowed by Big Meme #3

Ahead of us is Atlas Poseidon Zeus. His gigantism. He laughs boomingly "Why did you come here?" he says. I feel it in my soul.
"We came to find the everlasting happiness-fire." I say.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't nod, but I get the feeling he intended me to get the feeling he had. We take a right and we see the volcanoe ahead of us.
In the darkness, between its expulsions; the twinkling light of the fairy dust plays upon Galileo's features. It is Mardi Gras. There is a party on the hill of the volcanoe. It is a mountain.
The Ichiloidis' black charred skin-as they are swallowed in magma, with their little hats, schreech in delight. They never come out into the sun, as it burns them. Except in summer, when they go on vacation to the bahamas.
We drop down and land on a high outcrop of rock, one the magma prolly will not reach. The Ichiloidis clambour franticly, frenzily, up to us, surrounding the hot air balloon, but never entering.
The King gets up on a higher outcrop of rock with his harp and plays, the sound is bellowing; the rest of the Ichiloidis sing. Cupid jetsets from the Moon. He jetsets in a majestic ship with golden sails, torn at every edge. He passes us and continues on his voyage across the earth. What fair maiden or mister will he strike with the everlasting joy of the perfect pursuit?
Galileo acts like he's been struck by an arrow and stumbles toward me with googly-eyes. The Ichiloidis shriek in laughter.
"Now get the fuck out." Says their king.

-
With the golden box, somehow both wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and a red velvet bow, that he threw to us, we rise.
(Theme about trying not to open the present)
The next day, at bout noon, we see water spirits swirling in a typhoon. Galileo outfits us with telescopes and hearing aids. We observe the bar at the surface of the mighty ocean where they are taking shots. "And then I said to her-"
But the sound is drowned out by the typhoon. So we reset the dials to the desired type of energy response and listen in.
"-And then I went to work." he finished. Dissapointed, we float on.
"Hey, weren't we supposed to do something with the water spirits?" I ask.
"I dropped them the pumice they need to concoct their drinks." Galileo replies.
The typhoon speeds up towards us, and the green water sprite from the bar hands us a gold bar. "Man, I've got to get out of this fish and tie" he says"but you know-another day @ the office.!"he smiles magnificently. No doubt a god of some type.
We float on, the sun, fading, setting on the arctic. We are wearing vegan kevlar, and are maybe warm, depending on how warm kevlar is(I don't know what's vegan, but I think Kevlar). Suddenly, we are taken by the pull of the sun and zoom into hyperspeed. We are now in the internet. We drop off the gold brick @ 4chan, the gift box @ facebook, and land safely on yesterday.com, where promethius is waiting with the eternal happiness-fire.

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>>9485534
>>9485539
>>9485539

Holy...I require additionally

>haiku
>poem

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Just submitted a portfolio of this shit for uni so I'm all pottery-d out. Here's an old haiku I did for a friend.

Friend curses his roots
Wants rebirth in Nippon, lol
He is the weeb-lord

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And now, still
wearing the same dress coat
that I had on when killed last night,
with a rake’s predatory twinkle,
toward my Lilith I advanced.
She turned upon me a green eye
over her shoulder, and my clothes
were set on fire and in a trice
dispersed like ashes.
In the room behind
one glimpsed a shaggy Greek divan,
on a small table wine, pomegranates,
and some lewd frescoes covering the wall.
With two cold fingers childishly
she took me by my emberhead:
“now come along with me,” she said.

Without inducement,
without effort,
Just with the slowest of pert glee,
like wings she gradually opened
her pretty knees in front of me.
And how enticing, and how merry,
her upturned face! And with a wild
lunge of my loins I penetrated
into an unforgotten child.
Snake within snake, vessel in vessel,
smooth-fitting part, I moved in her,
through the ascending itch forefeeling
unutterable pleasure stir.
But suddenly she lightly flinched,
retreated, drew her legs together,
and grasped a veil and twisted it
around herself up to the hips,
and full of strength, at half the distance
to rapture, I was left with nothing.
I hurtled forward. A strange wind
caused me to stagger. “Let me in!”
I shouted, noticing with horror
that I stood again outside in the dust
and that obscenely bleating youngsters
were staring at my pommeled lust.
“Let me come in!” And the goat-hoofed,
copper-curled crowd increased. “Oh, let me in,”
I pleaded, “otherwise I shall go mad!”
The door stayed silent, and for all to see
writhing in agony I spilled my seed
and knew abruptly that I was in Hell.