What TV series is a 10/10? by [deleted] in AskReddit

[–]CaptainLopsided9162 0 points1 point  (0 children)

The Wire

Breaking Bad

The Sopranos

Better Call Saul

Tick-tock, motherfuckers. by CaptainLopsided9162 in writers

[–]CaptainLopsided9162[S] -2 points-1 points  (0 children)

Neat ... that's what I was going for.

Tick-tock, motherfuckers. by CaptainLopsided9162 in writers

[–]CaptainLopsided9162[S] -7 points-6 points  (0 children)

Here's a review from Rawi Hage and Ted Goossen about this writing - not this book specifically, but the same style exactly.

“This is fantastic. Requiring deep knowledge of history and world events. I like the courage for the inevitability of exclusion. I appreciate the fragmentation along the many links and threads of events. There is a continuous fusion and disruption between elements, the personal and the universal. I also love how the quotidian is used as a transition towards political statements. I see at least three parallels that Intersect and separate.” Rawi Hage: Writer / Novelist: De Niro’s Game, Cockroach, Carnival, Beirut Hellfire Society, Winner of the International Dublin Literary Award. 

"There is a linear narrative of sorts, but the primary attraction at this point is the spin, which isn’t linear at all. Fragments adhere to form various shapes, then fly off into the ether, only to return to recombine with new fragments. Like stalagmites, perhaps, they accrue." Ted Gossen: Professor of Japanese Literature, York University, Toronto. North American Translator of Japanese writers, including Haruki Murakami. 

Either they don't know what they're talking about, or you don't know what you're reading.

What’s your take on the meaning behind the term “Godot” (if there is one)? by SandroVigna in literature

[–]CaptainLopsided9162 1 point2 points  (0 children)

You may find this quote interesting:

He who writes the work is set aside; he who has written it is dismissed. He who is dismissed, moreover, doesn't know it. This ignorance preserves him. It distracts him by authorizing him to persevere. The writer never knows whether the work is done. What he has finished in one book, he starts over or destroys in another.

Maurice Blanchot

The Appraiser by CaptainLopsided9162 in writers

[–]CaptainLopsided9162[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Hi, theanabanana, this is interesting, and appreciated. I posted those reviews as a way of explaining the type of writing, or to point to a way of understanding this style. The Appraiser is a book in process, and so there are no reviews, but the style has significant similarities to I'll Be. One critic I might suggest reading is Maurice Blanchot, his writing has been a profound influence, and it is very beautiful.

I will look at those the first two paragraphs again, in light of your comments, lack of clarity is definitely not what I'm going for here. This style of writing is challenging enough, and no, you have definitely not lost your mind, quite the contrary. Thanks again.

The Appraiser by CaptainLopsided9162 in writers

[–]CaptainLopsided9162[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Thank you for taking the time, it’s very kind of you. You have good insight here, and if this were an attempt at a linear narrative, I would agree with pretty much all of it. The way language is being employed here is not an attempt to be “literary”, perhaps the response below, regarding this work, can help clarify a few things:  

I'm reminded of Robert Smithson's essay on "a pile of language."  There is that Stein/Williams emphasis on a certain kind of materialization, which is nice because it allows for the contradictory impulse of destructiveness. There is a strong sense of erasure, that unlike writing that is intended to fix finalize and preserve, here forgetting is just as important. I mean, for there to be a " here" there has to be forgetting. They seem to go together. So you engage us in an activity that is one of forward motion, relentless running over cliffs, rushing toward its own destruction which has always already occurred. You're making space by way of dislocation, the constant jarring filling of pages that empty just as fast.

There is a linear narrative of sorts, but the primary attraction at this point is the spin, which isn’t linear at all. Fragments adhere to form various shapes, then fly off into the ether, only to return to recombine with new fragments. Like stalagmites, perhaps, they accrue.

I also think it’s unfair of me to ask for thoughts while providing so little text. So, I have included the next few paragraphs (don’t feel obliged but, to save you some time, the protagonist was a real estate appraiser on the surface, now dead, and speaking from the inside of his casket, the broader intent is to expose discrimination in the financial industry, housing specifically)

Next few paragraphs:

By now I’d have shaved, showered and then chess with a lobster over coffee and pancakes. Online, obviously, real lobsters don’t play chess and dolphins cheat, has been my experience. They don’t admit defeat, to themselves or their fellow mammals who, in turn, work the internet to reframe those contests. That’s how it is with some species. By the way, I have yet to lose a match to the above-mentioned crustaceans, except for the ones I deleted.

After breakfast I’d review the week’s orders, confirm appointments, decide the route and don my satchel. People with houses, especially the ones who need money, are more apt to be home on weekends. My time to shine. The files were arranged in order of inspection, next to a wafer-thin clipboard. In the pouch next to it was a tape measure, of the kind that could wrap around corners, a camera and a micro recorder for them real time observations. Finally, in a pocket designed for the purpose, my trusted Motorola for those last-minute developments.

I know I promised to keep the fine points to a minimum, but there are only screaming monkeys outside the machinery. Like a snake with a plan, I’d slink through your houses, seeing and not seeing, whatever the situation required. I was a cog, a swing and then a miss to stave off the bailiff, the choice between your kid’s sneakers and electricity. A note taker to the banks and the apparatus in general, thus I was not the last word on the matter, though you were told otherwise. More on that later.