Was he even sincere?

Was he even sincere?

*punches you in the face*

no. he even killed himself ironically

yes

He was. I don't particularly like his work, and yet I think his oeuvre will continue to grow in significance as time goes on. This is because he became a man of his time, encapsulated the essence of late 20th and 21st century America. unfortunately for him, his time (and ours today) was oppressively complicated, meaningless, and empty. He simply put into words the nothingness of our "culture" after synchronizing its voice with the one in his head and therefore his pen. How could you not destroy yourself in such a situation?

His writing annoyed me, I found it overdone, contrived, needlessly obtuse, and more often than not superfluous. America annoys me. I find it overdone, unnecessarily obtuse, contrived, and completely and utterly devoid of any sort of unifying meaning or ideal. He tried to find mysticism in this hollow casket of a country, all the while knowing there wasn't any. He is a hero in my mind.

No, and I think that's why he couldn't finish The Pale King. He couldn't help himself but right the exact same kind of stuff he hated, but in an artificially self-aware way.

>but write*

>this writing may be shit, but so is my SOUL

he was sincerely a talentless depressed hack, yes.

see how that works.

I don't think his soul became shit until he committed himself to being the voice of a generation.