Once you’ve put one of his [Henry James] books down, you simply can’t pick it up again.
On a book by Henry James: “Once you put it down, you simply can’t pick it up.
[Leaves of Grass is] monstrous because it pretends to persuade the soul while it slights the intellect; because it pretends to gratify the feelings while it outrages the taste.
[Middlemarch] is a treasure-house of details, but it is an indifferent whole.
So, you’re the man who can’t spell ‘fuck.'”
Dorothy Parker to Norman Mailer after publishers had convinced Mailer to replace the word with a euphemism, ‘fug,’ in his 1948 book, “The Naked and the Dead.
While clearly an impregnable masterpiece, Don Quixote suffers from one fairly serious flaw-that of outright unreadability.
I know that an author must be brave enough to chop away clinging tentacles of good taste for the sake of a great work. But this is no great work, you see.
Do not start me on The Da Vinci Code … a novel so bad that it gives bad novels a bad name.”
(Discussion at Woodruff Auditorium in Lawrence, KS; October 7, 2005.)
She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.