Slash the first hunnered-fitty pages and you got a mad killer story here. He can chalk a wicked storm… when he wanna. Bones ‘n cojones a-plenty this g-thug gangsta masta flash blaster gots. This bro Kai Ashante Wilson got some srz writing chops. As such, I’m a regular assassin of the pseudo challenging, a class of literature which, alas, contains The Sorcerer of the Wildeeps. I have witnessed first-hand their effect on young readers especially, who get turned off literature as a result of assignments by undiscriminating English teachers. They can lead to anti-elitism, nihilism, and ennui.
I would posit that, indeed, they can weigh the entire readership down.
These latter, lesser quality doppelgangers can be quite the malediction. It’s often difficult to distinguish between literature whose challenge is a function of its complexity and literature whose challenge is a function of obscurity or bad writing. The shattering of long-held beliefs is a beautiful cataclysm, and I might state with no qualification that human experience contains no greater sublimity than the upward transformation of a mind.Īnd yet the same key which unlocks heaven can also unlock hell. These books, by the hammer and chisel of structure, language, and character, reshape our preconceived notions on race, gender, culture, history, epistemology, or even basic story-telling. A disparaging of the easy pleasure read being not my intent, I nevertheless offer the following thesis: the most worthwhile and memorable reading experiences usually involve a level of difficulty. I gonna take a machete upside this beyotch, gonna show you guts, some shock-of-white-bone, a little bit o critique hoodoo.īut before I do, allow me to expound on why I must needs wage this figurative war.
0 kommentar(er)
