I recently came across this piece in my travels:
http://www.capmag.com/article.asp?ID=3251
A sample:
**
Novel A:
He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation.
The visible signs of postsatisfaction?
A silent contemplation: a tentative velation: a gradual abasement: a solicitous aversion: a proximate erection.
Novel B:
She sat listening to the music. It was a symphony of triumph. The notes flowed up, they spoke of rising and they were the rising itself, they were the essence and the form of upward motion, they seemed to embody every human act and thought that had ascent as its motive. It was a sunburst of sound, breaking out of hiding and spreading open. It had the freedom of release and the tension of purpose. It swept space clean, and left nothing but the joy of an unobstructed effort. Only a faint echo within the sounds spoke of that from which the music had escaped, but spoke in laughing astonishment at the discovery that there was no ugliness or pain, and there never had had to be. It was the song of an immense deliverance.
Clearly, one of these novels is a stylistic masterpiece, and the other is trash. The fighting is over which is which.
Novel A is James Joyce's Ulysses, named best by a panel of "experts" at the Modern Library division of Random House.
Novel B is Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, named best by the "unenlightened masses" who voted online in an Internet poll also conducted by Modern Library. Atlas Shrugged is leading by an even wider margin.)
The culture wars, correctly conceived, actually reflects the clash between the intellectual establishment and the American people.
**
Provocative!
http://www.capmag.com/article.asp?ID=3251
A sample:
**
Novel A:
He kissed the plump mellow yellow smellow melons of her rump, on each plump melonous hemisphere, in their mellow yellow furrow, with obscure prolonged provocative melonsmellonous osculation.
The visible signs of postsatisfaction?
A silent contemplation: a tentative velation: a gradual abasement: a solicitous aversion: a proximate erection.
Novel B:
She sat listening to the music. It was a symphony of triumph. The notes flowed up, they spoke of rising and they were the rising itself, they were the essence and the form of upward motion, they seemed to embody every human act and thought that had ascent as its motive. It was a sunburst of sound, breaking out of hiding and spreading open. It had the freedom of release and the tension of purpose. It swept space clean, and left nothing but the joy of an unobstructed effort. Only a faint echo within the sounds spoke of that from which the music had escaped, but spoke in laughing astonishment at the discovery that there was no ugliness or pain, and there never had had to be. It was the song of an immense deliverance.
Clearly, one of these novels is a stylistic masterpiece, and the other is trash. The fighting is over which is which.
Novel A is James Joyce's Ulysses, named best by a panel of "experts" at the Modern Library division of Random House.
Novel B is Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, named best by the "unenlightened masses" who voted online in an Internet poll also conducted by Modern Library. Atlas Shrugged is leading by an even wider margin.)
The culture wars, correctly conceived, actually reflects the clash between the intellectual establishment and the American people.
**
Provocative!
) so of course he's gonna big up Ayn Rand.
