I’ve been in a little reading slump which tends to happen when I am doing more art and writing.
I’m currently slogging through two books. One is Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I guess it’s interesting because it’s written as a stream of consciousness novel, and it explores the absolute filthiest corners of 1930s Paris, but the narrator (Miller himself) is so odious. I don’t know why I feel like I have to finish it.
The second book is much better but just long, with a writing style that is also quite different. It’s called the Sympathizer, and it’s about a Vietnamese double agent spy who finds himself being airlifted from Saigon to the US…and everything that comes with that. It’s honestly a really compelling story, but the writing is much more unedited than I am used to. There are a lot of pages that have no paragraph breaks at all! So it feels dense even though the story isn’t.
I will wrap these up soon and then move on to something that’s a bit easier on my brain.
I’ve been in a little reading slump which tends to happen when I am doing more art and writing.
I’m currently slogging through two books. One is Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I guess it’s interesting because it’s written as a stream of consciousness novel, and it explores the absolute filthiest corners of 1930s Paris, but the narrator (Miller himself) is so odious. I don’t know why I feel like I have to finish it.
The second book is much better but just long, with a writing style that is also quite different. It’s called the Sympathizer, and it’s about a Vietnamese double agent spy who finds himself being airlifted from Saigon to the US…and everything that comes with that. It’s honestly a really compelling story, but the writing is much more unedited than I am used to. There are a lot of pages that have no paragraph breaks at all! So it feels dense even though the story isn’t.
I will wrap these up soon and then move on to something that’s a bit easier on my brain.