28 September, 2020

Pastiche Of Piffle

An awkward rite of passage

Pastiche Of Piffle
Everybody's got a novel to write, a story to tell, and even if they don't, what the hell, Indian publishing is on the roll. New kids keep crowding the block, the more the merrier. In the ethics of reviewing, honesty outweighs compassion. We have to be democratic in that the pursuit of fiction, of the novelistic construct, is a pastime free and open to anyone who ventures to use or abuse it. And yet, when a book is bad, when it just cannot pass the critical test, it is important not to err on the side of compassion.

What does one say of an author who has the following comments to make about his writing: For me, writing is like a wave. Almost like nausea. You never know what food is inside you, or when it's going to come out. But it does. Slowly, but surely, bits of stale meat rise up to choke you, and you release them into the sink. Words are exactly like that. They just keep pouring directly out of the hand, and you never know when they'll stop. That he's read Trainspotting? That he is digestively challenged?

A Short History of Everything is in august company in that...



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