I still think Érec et Énide is a fantastic romance-adventure, really hearkens back to the classic days of a chivalrous knight and a proper damsel in distress. It's well told and greatly paced.
I don't think there was any works from H.G. Wells I didn't like -- I personally thought his short stories were the best, though. The Valley Of The Spiders is still an excellent read even to this day, and I would still argue it would make for quite the horror film if any non-woke director was ever up for the challenge.
Many of Plato's works are also still quite insightful and useful for how to recognise, collate, and disseminate information, especially Socrates' discussions with Gorgias and Protagoras.
Despite a reprehensible personal life, I still think Oscar Wilde was a brilliant writer. Definitely invokes some serious emotions and wit in his writing. Less so for over-rated people like F. Scott Fitzgerald or much of Charles Dickens' work.
But I thought Dostoyevski had some compelling stories to tell, and he was good enough to -- through the written word -- visually capture his scenarios and characters quite well. The same could be said for some of Ralph Waldo Emerson's work.
I didn't particularly care for Samuel Clemens' novels but I thought his prose and short works were really well done.
Thomas Paine, H.D. Thoreau, and Bertrand Russell also had some interesting things to ponder over, and Epictetus' Golden Sayings is kind of a necessary guide book for pocketbook wisdom that never goes out of style.
But, yes, you are quite right that a lot of fiction and non-fiction alike is trash. Oftentimes humourless drudgery of the most witless kind.
The worst of it is the stuff that is praised to the high heavens from "critics" and "fans" only for you to read it, and then find yourself scratching your head trying to figure out if you missed something or just didn't get it, since the appeal only seems to be in its popularity, rather than the quality of its content.
It's garbage. In fact, pretty much everything taught in english classes is garbage, as if it is selected to make people hate reading. Whether it is Tale of Two Cities, or Death of a Salesman, it is all flaming hot dumpster fires.
I'd rather read John Galt's speech than anything by Dickens or Miller.
The only exception to the rule was when I had to read Ivanhoe. It was at least interesting.
I don't think we value the same things in art. From your comment about Galt you seem to like stirring, didactic approaches, whereas I appreciate the portrayal of Gatsby's vivid idealism and the mortality of his dream.
Unfortunately, people in high school English classes haven't even formed real dreams for the most part, let alone had their dreams injured, so the meaning is lost on them.
The great Gatsby is only good if you are taught to read it and pull put the symbolism. The whole point of the book was to pack in as much symbolism as possible. If you read it without looking for that its utter trash.
Depends.
I still think Érec et Énide is a fantastic romance-adventure, really hearkens back to the classic days of a chivalrous knight and a proper damsel in distress. It's well told and greatly paced.
I don't think there was any works from H.G. Wells I didn't like -- I personally thought his short stories were the best, though. The Valley Of The Spiders is still an excellent read even to this day, and I would still argue it would make for quite the horror film if any non-woke director was ever up for the challenge.
Many of Plato's works are also still quite insightful and useful for how to recognise, collate, and disseminate information, especially Socrates' discussions with Gorgias and Protagoras.
Despite a reprehensible personal life, I still think Oscar Wilde was a brilliant writer. Definitely invokes some serious emotions and wit in his writing. Less so for over-rated people like F. Scott Fitzgerald or much of Charles Dickens' work.
But I thought Dostoyevski had some compelling stories to tell, and he was good enough to -- through the written word -- visually capture his scenarios and characters quite well. The same could be said for some of Ralph Waldo Emerson's work.
I didn't particularly care for Samuel Clemens' novels but I thought his prose and short works were really well done.
Thomas Paine, H.D. Thoreau, and Bertrand Russell also had some interesting things to ponder over, and Epictetus' Golden Sayings is kind of a necessary guide book for pocketbook wisdom that never goes out of style.
But, yes, you are quite right that a lot of fiction and non-fiction alike is trash. Oftentimes humourless drudgery of the most witless kind.
The worst of it is the stuff that is praised to the high heavens from "critics" and "fans" only for you to read it, and then find yourself scratching your head trying to figure out if you missed something or just didn't get it, since the appeal only seems to be in its popularity, rather than the quality of its content.
The Great Gatsby is not overrated
It's garbage. In fact, pretty much everything taught in english classes is garbage, as if it is selected to make people hate reading. Whether it is Tale of Two Cities, or Death of a Salesman, it is all flaming hot dumpster fires.
I'd rather read John Galt's speech than anything by Dickens or Miller.
The only exception to the rule was when I had to read Ivanhoe. It was at least interesting.
I don't think we value the same things in art. From your comment about Galt you seem to like stirring, didactic approaches, whereas I appreciate the portrayal of Gatsby's vivid idealism and the mortality of his dream.
Unfortunately, people in high school English classes haven't even formed real dreams for the most part, let alone had their dreams injured, so the meaning is lost on them.
You misunderstand. Galt's speech was boring, repetitious, preachy fartsniffing, and it was still better than anything presented in English classes.
The great Gatsby is only good if you are taught to read it and pull put the symbolism. The whole point of the book was to pack in as much symbolism as possible. If you read it without looking for that its utter trash.