I hate how this guy writes. every sentence is like>The listless bird weaved in and out through the waning door, reverberating with a compelling swoop and a dash of light in its eyes as the sunshine covered its body in a triumphant and sorrowful glow.It works in heart of darkness because of the setting but I'm reading his other tales and it's the same crap over and over again. How can you write so much fluff without saying anything? It's like what a kid in AP English would write if he was trying to make a book
He was trying to flex on English speakers.
>>25507565Filtered
>>25507565>It works in heart of darknessWhy do you think that's his only famous work?
>>25507565AP english kids would only write sentences no longer than 5 words.
i bet you hate mccarthy
>>25507565Literature isn't for you, give up.
>>25507565Unfortunately that's what the acme of modern prose is considered to be. It's very superficial and effeminate. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy Conrad, probably a lot more than Op, but his style of writing absolutely should never have infected the entire 20th century like it did. It's performative.
>>25510459>performativefake tik tok word. you dont read. go back.
>>25510461I almost certainly read more than you do or any other person enamored with the worthless fustian tradition of the post-WW2 novel.
>>25507565I agree, Heart of Darkness is enough. I also read Lord Jim and it was very much more than enough.
>>25510470wrong
>>25507565Conrad is good, but I have to say I sympathize with you.I don't find him an easy read at all. He himself said he found it very hard to write in English (as opposed to French in particular) because all the words had so many connotations it was really hard to pin them down to the meaning he wanted. And that's exactly the impression I get. He's not in partnership with the language; he's desperately struggling with it, trying to get it in an arm-lock and make it say what he wants. It feels like someone trying to pull a pig through a hedge backwards.>listless bird, etcAbsolutely this. He has to attach an adjective to every single noun and an adverb to every single verb. "Curse this language, none of the words mean what I want, I have to modify every single one of them!"Look at the opening of NOSTROMO for instance:~In the time of Spanish rule, and for many years afterwards, the town of Sulaco—the luxuriant beauty of the orange gardens bears witness to its antiquity—had never been commercially anything more important than a coasting port with a fairly large local trade in ox-hides and indigo. The clumsy deep-sea galleons of the conquerors that, needing a brisk gale to move at all, would lie becalmed, where your modern ship built on clipper lines forges ahead by the mere flapping of her sails, had been barred out of Sulaco by the prevailing calms of its vast gulf. Some harbours of the earth are made difficult of access by the treachery of sunken rocks and the tempests of their shores. Sulaco had found an inviolable sanctuary from the temptations of a trading world in the solemn hush of the deep Golfo Placido as if within an enormous semi-circular and unroofed temple open to the ocean, with its walls of lofty mountains hung with the mourning draperies of cloud.On one side of this broad curve in the straight seaboard of the Republic of Costaguana, the last spur of the coast range forms an insignificant cape whose name is Punta Mala. From the middle of the gulf the point of the land itself is not visible at all; but the shoulder of a steep hill at the back can be made out faintly like a shadow on the sky.On the other side, what seems to be an isolated patch of blue mist floats lightly on the glare of the horizon. This is the peninsula of Azuera, a wild chaos of sharp rocks and stony levels cut about by vertical ravines. It lies far out to sea like a rough head of stone stretched from a green-clad coast at the end of a slender neck of sand covered with thickets of thorny scrub. Utterly waterless, for the rainfall runs off at once on all sides into the sea, it has not soil enough —it is said—to grow a single blade of grass, as if it were blighted by a curse. . . .~Lots of adjectives can work OK in certain kinds of prose. But here you can practically feel the sweat coming off poor JC's brow as he desperately struggles to paint a picture of this wretched place. It makes for an enervating reading experience.
He sure uses a lot of n-words for a polish...
>>25511583around poles, never relax
