I still hate it.
But why? What is you hate about it? If you have the time, please do elaborate….
That should read, “What is it you hate about it.” Late night typing….
I like it that I don’t know what or why. But, I would like to know if, and in which ways, you feel you have changed since you were twenty years old.
Taste is a strange thing to explain.
Partly, it had to do with the genre–autobiography is a form I find difficult to read, or, I should qualify, certain versions of twentieth-century autobiography. Partly it had something to do with certain nascent versions of anti-identitarian critique I was learning. Partly it had to do with a certain slackness–I like this particular author’s poetry very much, but this particular prose work is nowhere as interesting–what is imaginative and textured in poetry feels flat in prose.
I think what inspired the note was realizing how much I still trust that younger self–for all he had wrong, and there was a lot, he had a lot more “worked out” than he knew.
and now i’m really curious what
I find your post kind of funny=) and to the point. What do you hate about the book?
Comments are closed.