felis_ultharus

So, I'm reading an avant-garde (experimentalist) postmodern novel interspersed with (bad) poetry for my class. The quality of the prose is like bad fanfic, complete with Mary-Sue. The poetry makes me yearn for the "my-thoughts-plus-line-breaks" poetry of emo thirteen-year-olds, as a relief from what I'm reading now.

I wanted so much to like it. It's supposed to be about the psychological after-effects of colonization on Africa, a noble subject worthy as a source of great art.

I was sympathetic -- I've read a fair bit about the legacy left by political, economic, cultural, and religious colonization, and the deep scars these things have left, though the full scale of the horror is probably unimaginable.

Now, having read most of the book, I feel like I want to colonize Africa out of spite for the author. No, not really, but damn it was a tedious read.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the difference between "experimental authors" and physicists is that the physicists are usually honest enough to admit when the experiment fails. The only hypothesis ever proven by experimental authors in Canada is that if the Canada Council doesn't understand the proposal, you'll probably get a Canada Council grant to write it.