I just finished reading O Pioneers by Willa Cather, which I enjoyed immensely. The third person was refreshing. I’m reading The Plague by Albert Camus now. The Plague started off slowly. I almost gave up on it. The first chapter was driving me nuts. Then Camus’ writing style changed suddenly and his writing became clearer, and less pretentious. O Pioneers was will written, but at times kind of girlie. I knew what was going to happen before it happened, except for the death of Emil. That took me by surprise. It was well written and entertaining, so the fact that I knew what was going to happen didn’t bother me as much. I also started the first chapter of Moby Dick. That started off with a thud too. I’m going hang in there with The Plague and Moby and hope for the best.
There is so much to read. I tend to break down good writing to its simplest form. The book of fiction is in my view for the purpose of entertainment. Why else do we sit down to read. We read to be entertained. Many writers lose sight of this, and academics are in another world all together when comes to the qualities of good writing. They tend to think command of the language and plot is more important. Henry Miller more then any other writer I’ve read had command of the English language, but he was a bad story-teller. He was more interested in the word than the story, and as a result he tended to meander. His brilliant mind for words sacrificed the essence of the story. His genius was lost in micro content. He basked in his own mind and lost track of the purpose of writing, which is to entertain. You can disagree with me if you like, that’s all well and good, but if a book is not entertaining chances are it won’t be read.
