"I would prefer not to."
~ Herman Melville, Bartleby the Scrivener
Okay, prepare yourself for a huge catharsis.
THIS STORY WAS HORRIBLE. Not only did I hate the characters, but I hated the plot. I hated the ending. I hated the redundancies. I hated the length. I can remember sitting in class, reading this story, and saying "Dear God, why am I still reading this?" I'm pretty sure there was an entire page that didn't have a paragraph break. Great job telling me the exact same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over, narrator. You are just fan-freaking-tastic. I don't even feel sorry for you for having to put up with Bartleby and your other neurotic co-workers - you are just stupid for doing so. Why don't you just fire them?? Maybe then the story would be a little shorter and a little more bearable.
In conclusion, if I ever saw Herman Melville in person, I would probably punch him in the face for producing such a monstrosity.
Showing posts with label stupid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupid. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
A Rant. - Poetry Blog 5 (February)
This is probably the single worst poem I have read in.... forever. It's February by Margaret Atwood.
First of all, there are probably fourteen different things happening at the same time. She talks about winter, then her psycho cat, then war between the neighborhood cats, then castrating the cats, then love, then hockey, then environmental problems, then depression, then french fries, then certain unpleasant regions of her psycho cat, then outlooks on life, then spring. At the end of the poem, the reader is left with a few less brain cells than when he/she started. It just doesn't make sense - is she just telling us about her life, or is there some twisted symbolism in this? I don't like it. Here is a list of things I would rather be doing than reading this poem.
1) Enjoying a nice piece of fiction that is easy to understand.
2) Watching Accepted for the 200000000948th time.
3) Being at work.
4) Buck Buck - ing.
5) Doing my Government homework.
6) Writing yet another college scholarship essay.
7) Walking into incoming traffic.
The one thing I may get in this poem is that the cat is like winter. Both represent pessimism. The cat itself represents immorality and physicality (physical pleasure/triumph that lacks any emotional/intellectual/mental depth) What I don't understand is that if the cat is that depressing, why don't you just get rid of it? It's not like it's a baby.
Margaret Atwood, I have no idea what your point is, and I do not look forward to reading your poems in the near future.
First of all, there are probably fourteen different things happening at the same time. She talks about winter, then her psycho cat, then war between the neighborhood cats, then castrating the cats, then love, then hockey, then environmental problems, then depression, then french fries, then certain unpleasant regions of her psycho cat, then outlooks on life, then spring. At the end of the poem, the reader is left with a few less brain cells than when he/she started. It just doesn't make sense - is she just telling us about her life, or is there some twisted symbolism in this? I don't like it. Here is a list of things I would rather be doing than reading this poem.
1) Enjoying a nice piece of fiction that is easy to understand.
2) Watching Accepted for the 200000000948th time.
3) Being at work.
4) Buck Buck - ing.
5) Doing my Government homework.
6) Writing yet another college scholarship essay.
7) Walking into incoming traffic.
The one thing I may get in this poem is that the cat is like winter. Both represent pessimism. The cat itself represents immorality and physicality (physical pleasure/triumph that lacks any emotional/intellectual/mental depth) What I don't understand is that if the cat is that depressing, why don't you just get rid of it? It's not like it's a baby.
Margaret Atwood, I have no idea what your point is, and I do not look forward to reading your poems in the near future.
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