wot?
I know this is kind of long, but really.
An Amazon book review of "The Myth of Sisyphus":
"It is to my great misfortune that, as I am only twelve, I lack the ability to really appreciate the sheer beauty with which Camus writes. While intellectually stimulating, the true joy to be found in this work lies in Camus' prose. Unlike most philosopher/novelists, Camus' writing is not muddied and heavy, but rather it is light and clear and conducts the reader over the page rather than dragging him. Camus' style is an expression of his thought and his philosophy: it is pure and exuberant and wonderful. He proposes a life worth living despite all, and because of the precision, clarity, and beauty of his prose we can see this for the truly wonderful and simple thing it is. From the prose of the Myth of Sisyphus I received the same feeling as that I took from the material of The First Man; it is difficult to describe, perhaps, though, it is best described as clarity and strenght, as a polish which does not remove texture, which does not scour but rather elicits that which was already there. When I think of Camus writing Sisyphus, I cannot help but be reminded of a line by Cummings: nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. Camus does not create the objects of his prose, but he renders each with such clarity that he seems almost like a child, adrift in his own universe, with everything to discover."
Is this person twelve? or are they just pretending to be twelve? out of all the things to pretend to be, twelve is not on the top of my list. twelve was an unfortunate age. twelve twelve twelve that is ... really bizzarre looking. It should be a verb.
An Amazon book review of "The Myth of Sisyphus":
"It is to my great misfortune that, as I am only twelve, I lack the ability to really appreciate the sheer beauty with which Camus writes. While intellectually stimulating, the true joy to be found in this work lies in Camus' prose. Unlike most philosopher/novelists, Camus' writing is not muddied and heavy, but rather it is light and clear and conducts the reader over the page rather than dragging him. Camus' style is an expression of his thought and his philosophy: it is pure and exuberant and wonderful. He proposes a life worth living despite all, and because of the precision, clarity, and beauty of his prose we can see this for the truly wonderful and simple thing it is. From the prose of the Myth of Sisyphus I received the same feeling as that I took from the material of The First Man; it is difficult to describe, perhaps, though, it is best described as clarity and strenght, as a polish which does not remove texture, which does not scour but rather elicits that which was already there. When I think of Camus writing Sisyphus, I cannot help but be reminded of a line by Cummings: nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. Camus does not create the objects of his prose, but he renders each with such clarity that he seems almost like a child, adrift in his own universe, with everything to discover."
Is this person twelve? or are they just pretending to be twelve? out of all the things to pretend to be, twelve is not on the top of my list. twelve was an unfortunate age. twelve twelve twelve that is ... really bizzarre looking. It should be a verb.