Recent content by A2R.

Apparently Hemingway wasn't known for his descriptive writing. His art was in dialogue. But I've been interested in Hemingway as well since there seems to be quite a stir about his works; except, like you, every time I pick up a piece of his writing, I become bored. Is there a book that you...

There are some things in this world that we need. Some things that we neglect. We've been trained to fear it. We've been trained to hide it. But it's there. It's built inside us waiting to appear. But we're scared to show it. We've been taught to think. We've been taught to supress it. And...

Mr. Polly was a good book. Very insightful.

We tire from reading long passages. Though the blood doesn't pump methodically throughout our body during reading, do we burn calories through mental process? How much energy is used to read compared to running a block?

Why be in a forest if you don't take in the trees. Excellent.

There's something about building a physical library in your home and adding to it every time you finish a book that an e-reader will never provide. Nature will always trump technology.

Well, is Irish spoken as much in Ireland as it was? Utilise it as you want, it took away from my enjoyment of his writing. Especially coming from A Portrait of the Artist.

"It is simply impossible to interpret any text in the way that the author intended it." I like that. Well put. "some authors who translate, or oversee the translation of, their own work." That is a good point too that I overlooked. The authors must oversee the translated copy and give it an...

Gentlemen! It's not of what he writes. It's the language he wrote it in. By politics, I mean his feelings for his country's future. He felt his language dying and so wrote in the tongue.

Writing about Ireland wasn't the problem. I enjoy tales in foreign countries. It was his attempts to resurrect his dying language that disappointed me.

" robs you of a lot of great literature." But what's the difference? You're being robbed nonetheless. You don't get his words, you don't get his assembly of thought. You get the translator's. Your point is we have no choice, and I agree to a certain extent. We'll take what we can get. But...

I agree. It was Emerson who said "read after the sun sets or you'll miss the most beautiful story of all: life."

The soul of the author is lost once the book is rewritten. We rewrite the story but leave the spirit behind. His thoughts become the translator's. His choice of words, his poetry and talent, his sequence and rhythm are gone. We no longer read the author's thoughts but a second hand...

Joyce! Where to begin? Where to end is the better question. His works are beautiful but he becomes too political. He loves his Irish heritage too much for us to enjoy his writings. Ulysses was his line and Finnegan's Wake crossed it. But the Portrait of the Artist was his best piece.

I've been haunted by this man for over a year now. His name follows me and provokes me to read his writings but his character irritates me. The manly-man. Enemy to Joyce and all those with the sliver of feministic qualities. I've yet to read his works and I've yet to establish him a genius.