Miller: Okay, happily!
:::BOOM!:::
Rats. I shoot, badly. You escape, luckily.
Oh no.
I realize, horrifiedly, that that tripe has affected me, adversely. My eyes glaze, glassily. I howl, gut-wrenchingly. Life as I know it ends, ickily.
Miller: Okay, happily!
:::BOOM!:::
Rats. I shoot, badly. You escape, luckily.
Oh no.
I realize, horrifiedly, that that tripe has affected me, adversely. My eyes glaze, glassily. I howl, gut-wrenchingly. Life as I know it ends, ickily.
Here I present Twain’s review of Cooper, helpfully. This thread hurts my head, excruciatingly. I can’t think of any good words, jarbabyjily…ooohh…
I like the way the first sentence isn’t one.
as Shane himself said, this book should be called “several drinks with Shane MacGowan”
I love the pogues. Shane is easily one of the greatest poets that Ireland has ever produced. A read of the lyrics to “A pair of brown eyes” would show why.
Shane is also the person who played with a band with the greatest name ever “The Nipple Erectors”.
Too bad old Sam isn’t around to review Shane MacGowan. That review of Cooper ought to be subtitled “Mark Twain Rips Cooper A New One”. Ouch!
And cue Tom Lehrer:
You interview Shane MacGowan
And write all the answers down.
How do your readers all gouge out their eyes?
Gruesomely! Gruesomely!
Gruesome…
L-Y!
Blackclaw: In absolute fairness to the author, her comments in the books are presented as stage directions, so that first sentence fragment, at least, is excusable. Everything else of her’s in that book is a shooting offence.
Also, if you’re a fan of the Pogues or MacGowan in particualar, the book is actually worth reading for Shane’s incredible stories (often, literally incredible: he claims, for example, to have frequent conversations with his Uncle Billy, who died before Shane was born) Since all of Clarke’s stage directions are written in italics, you can easily skip them without losing anything. Unfortunetly, you still have to put up with her frequently inane questions and comments (“Radios don’t use electricity!”)
Speaking fearlessly as an adverb junky, I have to wearily protest your vile and hasty prejudice. Verily, adverbs are at the meat and heart of our society. To unfairly abjure them would be unwise.
I disagree, modestly.
One of the better pieces of advice Stephen King gave in his book On Writing is to yank out damn near every adverb in a manuscript. The argument is that there are better ways to strengthen the sentence. It’s not the first time I’ve heard such advice.
<hijack>I was joking</hijack>
Usually when I write, I feel that if I need an adverb to modify a verb, I should probably go find a better verb. Unless I’m feeling sadistic, of course.
Hrm, yes.
I had been contemplating the potential effects of sending the above book to Mr. King. And he thinks his books strike terror into the hearts of readers…