In its schoolboy striving for omniscience and its smothering garrulousness, it amounts to a literary equivalent of the CBS nightly news, intrinsically disturbing in its relentless non-stop ravenous pursuit of one's soul. Take a day off, will ya? Has this langpo Gargantua no understanding of the word "work-shy"? Literature is all fine and large, no question, but does one want it coming at one on a non-stop 24/7 digital assembly line? One can almost hear gears clanking. And it has overtones of a deplorable and deeply numbing phenomenon, from the writer's point of view--steady employment. One periodically needs to flee it down the nights and down the days.
Cf. Samuel Johnson: "People need to be reminded more than they need to be instructed."
And he didn't answer my email.
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