You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
A perfect novel, making the second perfect novel I have read, after Ulysses. I could maybe write more, but what is the point of writing, when it already has been done, perfectly?
Woolf is of course different from Joyce. I have been poisoned by a simplification once read: Woolf is of the mind, Joyce of the body, and that seems probably true to the extent that simplification can be true. And there being difference opens up the point that there are multiple ways of being perfect, or even, lesser goal, being good. So maybe there is reason to write, maybe there is reason to read other things still. Yet the clarity, the beauty, the simplicity -
Woolf is of course different from Joyce. I have been poisoned by a simplification once read: Woolf is of the mind, Joyce of the body, and that seems probably true to the extent that simplification can be true. And there being difference opens up the point that there are multiple ways of being perfect, or even, lesser goal, being good. So maybe there is reason to write, maybe there is reason to read other things still. Yet the clarity, the beauty, the simplicity -