I find Gibson pretty much unreadable. I really struggled to finish this book as I just don't care about any of the characters. His style of writing seems much better suited to short stories, and he is an absolute master at invocation of mood and setting. I just find anything longer than a few pages intensely stodgy. Go and get burning chrome instead and tackle it in short chunks...
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On the Road is very much a book of its time. Based around Sal Paradise (who Kerouac has said is based on himself) and his travels back and forth across America (and eventually to Mexico), it's a relentless tale of the need for adventure when life seems stagnant and lonely. With no ties to keep him in any one place, Sal gets in a car with his friends whenever the desire takes him, searching for answers to life's big questions.
Filled with the jazz music of the late 40s, Jack Kerouac's book is like a stream of consciousness, and although this often makes the book hard to 'get into' (I don't think I managed more than 20 pages at a time due to the sometimes disjointed and sometimes repetitive writing style), it does leave you with a real yearning ... Read More:
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Reviews are by nature subjective. That said, their should be a common element, an underlying current that runs through all reviews which peg the book (in this instance) at a similar level. That established, here I find myself rather baffled as to how anyone can either dredge or salvage anything from this book that would elevate it beyond a three star rating at maximum; there must be an element of consensus, because this book (or indeed any) has a basic content and structure, characters and plot that are capable of evaluation and critique. Let us call a spade a spade and not a shovel, this is a shovel!
I teach literature at university level and I am astounded how this book finds its way onto numerous 'must read' lists that appear on the internet and periodically ... Read More:
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I think I'm a pretty bright sort of a bloke. I got a good degree in English Literature from a very respectable university. I'm pretty knowledgable and can grasp fairly difficult concepts. But I'm not ashamed to admit (I am ashamed really) that this book floored me.
I appreciate it is experimental and understand that it probably gives great pleasure to those who "get" what Ballard is doing. But it is extremely obscure, written in a highly-florid, conceptual style and I found it unreadable. Instead of becoming involved with it I ended up just looking at words on a page and although I could appreciate the semantics of each sentence, getting any kind of notion of what was happening across the novel escaped me.
Like Neil Gaiman (Gaimanesque?), the supernatural is everyday in Mother London. And like Anthony Burgess (Burgessian?), the authorial voice here is unlike that of any other Moorcock work, despite thematic (and political) resonances with the histories of the Pyat Quartet. This is London describing itself through the glimmering weirdos that love it. Indeed, the London of Josef Kiss, David Mummery, Mary Gasalee and their lives is at both fantastical and familiar, a new world and a common one revealing some old scars. I cannot think that these streets will look the same again after this fragmented little joy of a book. It misses a little something, but not much. It is worth both your time and your money.
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This book will take you from horror to blandness in the turn of a page. It is possibly one of the hardest books I've ever read, but in turn one of the most well constructed. Obviously some reviewers on Amazon consider the writing poor, as well as the structure, but it seems like they have not just missed the point of the books structure, more like taken a thousand mile detour around it. It's a brave book and Ellis deserves praise for his uncompromising approach in every area of the storyline. I must admit I found it more than I could handle, more than I could take in. However as a satire on a self-obsessed, shallow and money orientated society it is flawless.
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I read Junky and really enjoyed it, it is written by a man in control of his thoughts, reflecting on times when he wasn't.
I bought this book and quite literally threw it in the bin after the first 40 or so pages. Perhaps if you persevere with it..... well,I couldn't. It starts with nonsensical drug babble and random paedophile fantasy. If thats clever writing, I don't see how. If the rest of the book continues in that vein then what can anyone possibly get out of reading it? Perhaps it gets better, I wasn't willing to find out. If you want drug babble, why not take some drugs and create your own? in my experience your own babble is far more interesting.
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Relentlessly aggressive and pornographic in a psycho-geographical kind of way. Brilliant even though lots of people say so. Deeply unsettling and explicit even though countless commentators have initiated it into the bland halls of literary classic. Not misogynistic even though it is, in a way, all about misogynism and inadequate manhood. Its vivid portraits (after Francis Bacon?) of genitalia and instrument panels, blood and torn flesh and semen and scars, all of that, is brought forth by a detached and clinical eye. Which is (a good bit of) the point. I found it both more engrossing and repetitive than I expected. And occassionally moving. The refluxes of libidinal modern landscapes mirror the obsessions of Ballard and Vaughan, rendered universal by their compulsions to repeat (even if some of the rest ... Read More:
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This very original and dynamically written novel should be read for its final third.
Starting (and continuing) as a rather pedestrian travelogue, it eventually transcends to one of literature's truly vivid moments as a Western woman literally loses her identity in the desert and ... and this is the point...can't locate a context to rebuild or recover it.
These paragraphs plot some of the most emotionally involved writing I have ever encountered and certainly make it a novel worth staying with.
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I read this novel by kathy acker when it first appeared on the scene in the 1980's, not only did i revel in the literary style of this new yorkist, rampant, angst female, in this her first work, she seemed to sum up the feelings of the age, of the post punk feminist free woman, and how still she suffered within the dominated world of the greedy selfish money-making, hypocrital, self made man-machine, pure genuis pure acker
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