Point of Clarification: are these novels tortuous or torturous?
Tortuous novels can often be fun and unpredictable (although, sometimes tortuous novels can be absolutely torturous!)
There’s nothing tortuous about Walden, but of course that’s probably why it sucks so bad and you should never read it!
Fuck you! James is brilliant! What do you know anyway??? Fuck you up your stupid fucking ass! Fuck you!!! Motherfucking fuck go fuck yourself!
:eek:
(We don’t have a “fucking one’s self up the ass” smiley* so I used the “eek” smiley, which is the closest we got)
*why don’t we have a “fucking one’s self up the ass” smiley?
Woah, did I just get pitted and not know it?! Can I count this as a Pitting? Because I’ve never been.
I don’t see what’s so awful about telling somebody, in a thread where opinions on a list of books are called for, that a book sucks the goat ass in your humble opinion. How dare you tell me I have the attention span of a four-year-old? You have no idea what else I read. You just know I think Silas Marner and The Scarlet Letter suck the goat ass. And I know for damned sure that I’m not alone in that opinion, and that my compatriots aren’t all four year olds either.
If you like Hawthorne, more power to you. But just because something’s been around for a long time doesn’t make it good, wise, or worthy.
Also, Silas Marner could put a serious dent in somebody’s growing love of literature, which is what I was really concerned about in the thread at hand. I could give a list of a hundred more enjoyable classics, particularly for somebody who’s less experienced at reading long boring books than some of us.
Well, it’s either you or me. You tore into Silas Marner, I ripped Dickens. Apparantly that makes us outcasts from the World of Fine Lit’rature, don’t you know. :eek:
Be strong. I know the burden can be heavy, but we shall survive (mainly because we won’t be reading the crap that others have to. )
Hey, I like Dickens. But David Copperfield definately sucks the goat ass.
Myself, I’m just glad I have all that extra free time that I’m not spending reading Silas Marner; there’s too many good books out there to read and you only get three score and ten, you know!
Anyone who couldn’t think for themselves enough to know that “Throw it out” is just a hyperbolized “I didn’t like it,” probably wouldn’t appreciate the literature anyway. A lot of people feel frustrated and inadequate for not “getting” the literature sanctioned by the intelligentsia. That thread is the antidote.
No, actually, there isn’t. All a classic is, is a book that a lot of people have liked for a long time. This does not give any sort of objective imprimatur of quality to a book. Wether a book is “good” or not is entirely subjective. There’s nothing wrong with not liking an author, no matter how widely read or well respected. There isn’t anything wrong with stating that opinion forcefully, either; no more than it’s wrong to praise the same book in an equally overt and hyperbolic fashion. “Silas Marner is the best book ever written!” is no more objectively true than “Silas Marner is the worst piece of crap novel ever set to paper!” It’s all opinion. Not liking a particular book doesn’t make anyone a “lazy reader,” or immature, or unintelligent, or uneducated, it just makes them someone with a differing opinion. There are no right answers, just other points of view.
Unless you’re talking about John Steinbeck, who has been mathematically proven by scientists to be a goddamned genius. Anyone disses Steinbeck, and I’ll shiv the bastard.
Alls I’m sayin’ is, you don’t get a merit award when you die for the hours you spent reading books you didn’t even like very much, but you read them because you felt you were supposed to. Nancy Pearl has a rule for it: you should read 50 pages of something before giving up, unless you’re over 50 and then you read 100-your age pages. If you’re 97, and you don’t like a book in three pages, toss that thing out the window and don’t feel the least bit sorry about it! (Er, The Name of the Rose excepted from this rule.)
I used to be a participant on a couple of automobile enthusiast websites and these are just the kinds of arguments that would break out about the benefits of various OEM vs. aftermarket parts. We of the SDMBmay, as a group, be smarter than average, but we can still act like a bunch of children when it comes right down to it. In a way, I find that strangely reassuring.
They are just books people, not a referendum on our personal worth or value to society at large. In fact, as individuals, I’m pretty sure we’re all of questionable use to 99.9% of the world at large. Some of these “classics” don’t seem to be fairing much better.
I appreciate that Quicksilver seems to get it that I’m not talking people disliking this book or that one. I’m pitting the tone of the thread, which was what I’d expect to hear from adolescents. Like I said, I needed to vent, and I’m over it.
I do think it’s funny that people talk about not wanting to waste time on those books, when apparently the time saved is spent on the Internet, finding out what some nerd thinks about Star Trek.
“Hi there, Jesus. Yes, quite a pile of sins there, yep. I still get credit for reading that entire pile of heaping dung called Wuthering Heights, don’t I?”
Nobody should think reading books are like eating their vegetables, and I expressed that sentiment in the thread. I said if you don’t like the books, don’t read them. I was just pitting the thread because everyone sounded like indolent 14-year-olds. They sounded, well, ignorant. And this board is purportedly about fighting ignorance.
The fact that someone like Wagner has nothing to do with the ammount of musical knowledge they have.
You seem to think that that more someone likes, the more someone knows.
In that thread, the OP was complaining that the book he was reading “didn’t get to the point”, (like TV does) I pointed out two of the titles that are also like that. It is just a matter of taste.
In the Author’s Note in the edition I read, Eco said he’d written the first hundred pages or so to be like a hike up a mountain, a penitential trip. In other words it was supposed to be boring as hell. Luckily it was all I had to read in English on a Paris trip once and so I actually got past that first hundred pages and there’s an awesome book after that. You just have to make it to the top of the mountain first. It should have come with some sort of a disclaimer: “Warning: Contents Not Subject to the 50 Pages Rule”.
I do find that the older I get the more I feel I have to finish a book if I’m not enjoying it. Once upon a time I did indeed soldier on through Moby Dick out of some misplaced idea that if I’d gotten that far I’d be cheating myself by not slogging on. Indeed.
If I say “Wagner SUCKS. He’s so BORING.” Then some people might thing I’m an ignorant ass. Not because of my taste, but because of my incurious dismissal of it, not to mention my lazy and half-witted way of expressing myself.
)