This book is the fountainhead but with art instead of architecture

Veeky Forums was obsessed with gaddis in 2015

you would've loved it back then

>people finally talking about Gaddis

and comparing him to ayn rand. there's not much hope to find here.

there are some similarities in the plot and I wanted people who've actually read the book to discuss whether there's accuracy to the statement.

i haven't read the fountainhead, would you like to elaborate a bit? i'm curious

So that means that the fountainhead is shit, but the other book is ok, even if they are similar?

Both books have terrible prose, too. Although for different reasons. Nice catch.

what are some examples of good prose in your eyes?

Gaddis is what the literati have falsely annointed Joyce of being.

I've never been one to celebrate prose. I only notice bad prose.

If you can't notice good prose, you're not qualified to judge prose.

>Still, a dull day in the fall, a day which had lost track of the sun and the importunate rendition of minutes and hours the sun dictates, and that configuration on Montmartre stood out in preternatural whiteness, the ceremonial specter of a peak, an abrupt Alp in the wrong direction. Walking home alone, the cold bearing in a dread weight of anxiety, the sense of something lost, passing people closely he passed them with wonder as though he'd seen no one in years, looking into every face as though hoping to recognize something there. Could the cold differentiate? aside from the change in clothing where the trees and the people reciprocate, the people suddenly came out muffled, and what trees there were stood forth in the mottled dishabille of discolored leaves. But even the streets, and the lights showing along the streets looked different, recalling nakedness in angular displeasure, summoning the fabled argument between the sun and the wind, distending the brief Rue Vivienne into the crowded desolation of Maximilianstrasse, the secure anonymity of childhood recalled by the fall of the year, and a Munich which had known spring and summer only in the irretrievable childhood of the Middle Ages, that hence, forward, there was no direction but down, no color but one darker, no sky but one more empty, no ground but that harder, no air but the cold. —Bitte? . . . Propriety faded, the level decorum of French roofs might break into the fibrous fakery of Italian and French rococo, an occasional tumor of nineteenth-century Renaissance sparked by the Byzantine eye behind the Allerheiligen-Hofkirche's Romanesque facade. As lonely, or more lonely (so they say one is in a crowd), the buildings in Munich's modern town stood away from each other in their differences, made up to extremes like guests at a Venetian masquerade, self-conscious perpetrations of assertive adolescence, well-traveled, almost wealthy, d'eracin'es, they had gathered as transcripts of their seducers who were not known in this land, and stood now stricken in erect silence up and down the aisles of the avenues, surprised that those they had known in conglomerate childhood had also traveled, had also been seduced, and that, in this shocked instant, by lovers more beautiful than their own. Like paralyzed barbs of lightning, hooked crosses in the streets had portended holocaust; while alone indigenous, hermaphrodite host and doubly barren, the Frauenkirche disembosomed impartial welcome from twin and towering domes at which the others railed but could not supplant. Empty pavilions colonnaded on a hill across the river witnessed the afternoon pleasure of a child who had been called away, and left this glittering plaything for the wind to tear.

I think I know why you dislike his prose...

Oh, you're a pseud.

What I don't get is... why do you use tricks that work on idiots around people who actually read? We all know you're full of shit.

eat my ass buddy, if you can't say that something is good, you have no right to claim something as bad.

Holy hell this is ugly, ugly writing. I could run down exactly why but it's not gonna change anyone's mind, it would be an incredibly long list, plus I have to go. So just read it out loud and see for yourself whether you sound like a poet celebrating the music of language or a gigantic dork trying to impress people.

>he only argues to change people's minds
>he has to go when confronted with a passage

Boy, do I know a book for you!

I don't know whether to scold you for such total irresponsibility or to salute you for being that devoted to literature

>Im not the only one who ruined his life giving everything to art after reading The Recognitions
I don't even regret it for a minute
good on you senpai