Is there any common thing in books that most most people like, but you actively hate?For me, its when a book describes everything in an overly flowery way. It seems it enhances the story for most people, but for me it just makes it more difficult for me to picture in my head and just becomes frustrating to read. If a writer is going to describe a blue bucket (for example), just say directly its a blue bucket, dont waste my time by saying "the bucket was neither too large or too small, it was just right, the ideal image of what any bucket should be. While its coloration was like a drop of the sky itself painted it."
anything that remotely goes out of its way to be woke or anti-woke. two sides of a shit-stained coin.
>>25228134One sentence is about a bucket. One sentence is not about a bucket. If you get it you get it.
>>25228293stanley parable?
>>25228222Same. even as a leftist myself, I cringe whenever I read something that blatantly hits you over the head with the most overt and surface-level woke messaging. It feels like the writers treat the audience like children whom they need to preach too.
praise of the act of reading
>>25228134>Is there any common thing in books that most most people like, but you actively hate?Yes. 19th century realism and not the prose being flowery enough.
>>25228646>19th century realismWhy lmao
>>25229040NTA but I agree with him
>>2522904019th century realism is boring. Dull stories, dull characters, dull writing style. Romances, satires, surrealism, encyclopedic novels, that's where my interests lie. I particularly value a vivid narrator, one who is almost a character unto himself. To me, the biggest sin a writer can commit is tempering his edge.When I go musing all aloneThinking of divers things fore-known.When I build castles in the air,Void of sorrow and void of fear,Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,Methinks the time runs very fleet.All my joys to this are folly,Naught so sweet as melancholy.When I lie waking all alone,Recounting what I have ill done,My thoughts on me then tyrannise,Fear and sorrow me surprise,Whether I tarry still or go,Methinks the time moves very slow.All my griefs to this are jolly,Naught so mad as melancholy.
