Having read V. and reading GR now, I find that these two - almost equal in the engagingness (fluctuations lie on personal preference) - can be differentiated as such:David's prose is raw, conveys all awkwardness, doesn't skip details, feels vivid and relatable and overdescriptive in a funny way.Tom's prose is like a dream, it's almost lucid, there are very touching and tangible moments, and there are very unclear and hazy ones. He sporadically jumps like a disjointed speech from a bad orator, but it beckons you to focus and feel good when you catch what he means. This was more unpleasant for me in V., but GR (with a dutiful editor) is much improved on that account. Modern, post-modern and post-post-modern authors play with lucidity in their prose, which makes one all the more unhappy with the renewed unwillingness to play with it on the part of contemporary writers. My own country has been plagued by realism in it's novels up until Gospodinov (Time Shelter), excluding some quite poor attempts, which are massively studied in schools for their explicitly for their "unusualness".I generalise quite a bit, of course, but what are your thoughts on the boring prose of moder novels - the "I woke up and the phone rang. I went and picked it up. I didn't know who was on the other side"s and such. The reason my compatriot poetry is that much better and emotionally moving is because it can't fall into the pit of boring, repetitive unoriginality. Though Rapi Kaurs and such do beg to differ...>I don't have time to recheck for readability and coherence
>>24786455One must imagine a philosophically turbaned Pynchon and a greased slickbacked DFW…
