When, laboriously, a success story must get out of the cocoon of mediocrity an incorrigible scribbler ...
Tom Wolfe is first - and hopefully , finally - a journalist. Whoever goes well, through its success across the Atlantic, the inventor of New Journalism (the same as the old but certainly longer "chébran" or something of that ilk).
Okay, easy caricature. But I do not feel right. Why? Because I went after those pesky thousand pages of literary poverty!
First pitch. Charlotte Simmons is a small hick stuck, intellectual pride of his high school mountain, who won his ticket to Dupont, the most prestigious university in the country. So it expects to penetrate the inner sanctum of culture and knowledge, there are other breast and penetrations that will program the den of debauchery and vulgarity among the gothic walls of buildings grouses.
Tom Wolfe wants a portrait of contemporary American student life. And there certainly managed well, the trip is indeed surprising. Number of top experts have praised its realism, even naturalism should we say.
It is imperative to emphasize the quality of the bottom of the story. We discover a world of appearances which collapses the omerta of the campus that fall and the worst truths that are spread out before us, the public square. The characters are well drawn too. They are incredibly endearing, despite the endless vapidity of the poor heroine, sometimes jovial maid, sometimes shameless depressed.
But deuce, it's all poorly written! Certainly concede that the author employs the "real" language of the young United States, an emphasis that we know before we even start reading. But dozens of "fuck" and its variations by pages are not the worst. You get used. No, the Apocalypse is in use absolutely barbaric, even grotesque, punctuation! In an attempt to make us "hear" the accent, the punctuation is regularly reversed, resulting in fatigue tremendously. Worse, the author never learned to use an ellipsis. It bombards us, do not use that to stop along the way sentences to simply move more easily in the next paragraph! Point of rhythm, that's useful!
I barely dare mention the poverty of his images. Once it finds one that works, all happy, and serves it pours for three or four sentences, chewed and chewed, substantive value on about better.
pity for the characters! Read this book will eventually end up in my opinion a way to rescue people, or at least share their plight. I felt the spirit of a pilgrim helping to raise their poor parent, this cross that masked their profound quality.
Paradoxical. I do not know whether to recommend this book. But I do not recommend it either.
Tom Wolfe is first - and hopefully , finally - a journalist. Whoever goes well, through its success across the Atlantic, the inventor of New Journalism (the same as the old but certainly longer "chébran" or something of that ilk).
Okay, easy caricature. But I do not feel right. Why? Because I went after those pesky thousand pages of literary poverty!
First pitch. Charlotte Simmons is a small hick stuck, intellectual pride of his high school mountain, who won his ticket to Dupont, the most prestigious university in the country. So it expects to penetrate the inner sanctum of culture and knowledge, there are other breast and penetrations that will program the den of debauchery and vulgarity among the gothic walls of buildings grouses.
Tom Wolfe wants a portrait of contemporary American student life. And there certainly managed well, the trip is indeed surprising. Number of top experts have praised its realism, even naturalism should we say.
It is imperative to emphasize the quality of the bottom of the story. We discover a world of appearances which collapses the omerta of the campus that fall and the worst truths that are spread out before us, the public square. The characters are well drawn too. They are incredibly endearing, despite the endless vapidity of the poor heroine, sometimes jovial maid, sometimes shameless depressed.
But deuce, it's all poorly written! Certainly concede that the author employs the "real" language of the young United States, an emphasis that we know before we even start reading. But dozens of "fuck" and its variations by pages are not the worst. You get used. No, the Apocalypse is in use absolutely barbaric, even grotesque, punctuation! In an attempt to make us "hear" the accent, the punctuation is regularly reversed, resulting in fatigue tremendously. Worse, the author never learned to use an ellipsis. It bombards us, do not use that to stop along the way sentences to simply move more easily in the next paragraph! Point of rhythm, that's useful!
I barely dare mention the poverty of his images. Once it finds one that works, all happy, and serves it pours for three or four sentences, chewed and chewed, substantive value on about better.
pity for the characters! Read this book will eventually end up in my opinion a way to rescue people, or at least share their plight. I felt the spirit of a pilgrim helping to raise their poor parent, this cross that masked their profound quality.
Paradoxical. I do not know whether to recommend this book. But I do not recommend it either.