Jerusalem read-along

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Is this the "completely invented sub-Joycean text" he was talking about?

Fuck you, From Hell was great

So was Swamp Thing, Miracleman, Promethea, Supreme, V for Vendetta (sadly its now a meme) and League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

It's definitely been memed here lately, but I'd say there's some worthwhile content - Moore's trying a lot of thematic stuff, and from what I've heard it doesn't entirely cohere until the final third, but his prose is really rich and I've yet to be bored.

>As he wrapped one tight round the rope, Ern found his hands were wringing wet with perspiration, so that he supposed he must be frightened of heights after all, despite what everyone had always said. He peered down past the planking’s rough-cut ends and, though he could not see his fellow workers, was astounded to find how far up he was. The St. Paul’s clergy looked like earwigs inching over the white, distant floor and Ernest watched with some amusement as two of the clerics waddled unaware towards each other along the adjacent sides of a giant pier, colliding at the corner in a flurry of black skirts. It wasn’t the mere sight of a downed clergyman that made Ern chuckle, but his realisation that he’d known the two priests would bump into one another before they themselves did, just by virtue of his lofty vantage point. To an extent he had been able to perceive the destinies of land-bound people moving back and forth on their flat plane from the superior perspective of a third dimension up above theirs that they seldom thought about or paid attention to. Ernest imagined this was why the Romans had got on so well, seizing the tallest peaks as lookout posts and watchtowers in their conquests, their perceptions and their strategies both wonderfully advantaged by the higher ground.
>His perch had by now reached the level he’d agreed with Billy Mabbutt, where it came to rest and was tied off, securely Ernest hoped, more than two hundred feet below. He was around the upper reaches of his first appointed fresco with the cloudburst’s flickering, percussive heart an almost constant presence right above him now. Once his expanse of floor space had stopped moving, Ern decided to begin his restorations with a halo-sporting figure in the picture’s upper left, angel or saint he couldn’t tell, the face of which had been somewhat discoloured by decades of censer-fume and candle smoke. He started gently with his cloths, stood there upon the platform’s brim wiping the smuts and layered dust from a visage he was surprised to find measured at least four feet from crown to chin when seen from right up next to it, the almost girlish features turned halfway towards the right and looking down demurely with the small lips pursed in that same smugly knowing smile. An angel, Ern decided, on the basis that those saints he could remember all had beards.
>Ern was all on his own in what seemed the bare-boarded attic of the world, much more elaborately decorated and more spacious than the one at his mum’s house in East Street. Once he’d cleaned off as much superficial grime as he could manage from a quarter-profile near as long as he was, Ernest settled to the serious affair of mixing up a shade that would exactly match the holy being’s weathered peach complexion. ...
1/?

>... Using the least mucky-looking handle of a brush that he could find he whipped the six yolks in their basin, then allowed a miserly amount of the resulting copper cream to pour into one of his mixing bowls. Another brush-handle served as a slender spoon with which Ern measured minute servings of what he believed to be the necessary colours from their varnish-tubs, wiping the brush-stem after every measure with a rag and stirring different quantities of lurid powder in his mixing bowl amongst the beaten egg.
>He started with an earthy, rich Burnt Ochre, adding Naples Yellow for its touch of summer afternoon then followed this with a restrained pinch of Rose Madder. Next the bloody and translucent drizzle of rich crimson was mixed vigorously with the combination, tiny beads of yolk frosted with colour crushed into each other by the stirring squirrel hairs. He supplemented the already-satisfying mixture with his secret touch, the trick he’d learned from Jackie Thimbles, which was to employ a sprinkling of Cobalt Blue, this simulating the depleted veinal blood that circulated just below the human epidermis. If the blue and reds should prove too much Ern would offset them with a drop of white, but for the moment he was pleased with how the blending had turned out and set about preparing his light skim of gesso, shaking the blanched gypsum from its bag into a little water and then pouring his flesh tempera to colour the thin plaster once it had been mixed. Taking a useful range of brushes in his trouser pocket Ernest walked across the aerial theatre’s boards, holding his bowl containing the painstakingly assembled medium between both hands, back to the platform’s southwest point where he commenced to work on the gigantic countenance, his head tipped back as he reached upward slightly to the image on the concave wall directly over him.
>Applying first a shallow coating of the fleshy-coloured gesso down the long sweep of the angel’s side-lit jaw line, Ernest waited until it was dry before he rubbed it down to a fine finish with his glass paper and then got ready to lay on a second coat. He’d barely started slapping this with hurried, practiced motions on the yard-wide face before he noticed to his consternation that the tints upon its far side, which he hadn’t touched yet, had begun to run. The storm outside had mounted to its zenith with a staggering barrage of thunders as Ern squinted up, bewildered and alarmed through an incessant lantern-Morse of lightning, at the dribbling colours moving on the angel’s flat and slightly in-bowed head and shoulders.
>Squirming droplets, each a different shade, were running up and down and sideways on the inner surface of the dome round the angelic face, with their trajectories in shocking contravention of all reason’s laws. ...
2/3

Inb4 purple prose

>... Moreover, the fast-swarming rivulets did not appear to Ern to have the glisten that they would if they’d been wet. It was instead as if dry streams of grains, infinitesimal and rushing, poured across the brushwork features following their inward curve like bright-dyed filings swimming over a weak magnet. This was an impossibility and, worse, would almost certainly be stopped out of his wages. He took an involuntary, faltering step back, and as he did so widened his appreciation if not comprehension of the frantic, trickling activity and motion going on before him.
>Neutral greys and umbers from the shadows on the far right of the giant face where it was turned away were crawling on a steep diagonal towards its upper left, where they pooled to a blot of shading such as you might get to one side of a nose if whomever it might belong to looked straight at you. Radiant Chrome Yellow and Lead White bled from the halo, forming an irregular bright patch with contours roughly like the angel’s rightmost cheek if it were slightly moved so that it was illuminated. With a bleak, numb horror moving up his spine Ern realised that without its modelling disturbing the almost-flat plane on which it was described or breaking from the confines of its two-dimensional domain, the angel’s massive face was turning slowly, still within the surface of the fresco, to regard him with a gaze that was head-on. New creases of Payne’s Grey coagulated at the corners of its eyes as loaf-sized lids, formerly downcast shyly, fluttered open with small flakes of paint falling from fresh-created wrinkles into Ernest’s mouth as he stood there beneath the spectacle with jaw hung wide. His circumstances were so wholly unbelievable he didn’t even have the wits to scream but took another step back with one hand clapped tight across his gaping maw. At the far edges of the figure’s epic mouth, also migrated up and to the left now, dimpled cracks of mingled Ivory Black and crimson crinkled into being as the pale, foot-long lips parted and the painted angel spoke.
>“Theis whille beye veery haerdt foure yew” it said, sounding concerned.
3/3

For half a second I looked at this.

> Percussive heart

Never buying!

You are one of THOSE insecure comicbook readers, aren't you?

that wasn't funny at all

Nice projection, kid
Work on where you put the emphasis in your sentence, it's makes you look even more pathetic

Shut up, both of you.

I can't believe anyone would be so easy, but I can't imagine what sort of weak double-bait your posts would be supposed to represent either... help me out there, what layer of irony is this

lol

>>y-your post is bait! B-btfo!

lol what an angry nerd

>if I fake stutter with the meme arrows that will make him look like an idiot.
>no I'm not projecting by shitposting

hey guys, leave him alone, he's probably new here. just give him a copy of the picture of dorian gray and pat his bottom and send him on his way.

Samefag

no, i was just trying to be nice.

Shut the fuck up.

>he doesn't into New Irony

>>Uses lol unironically

I want newfags to leave

The other bookcover looks like something written by Pelevin. How wacky and outlandish is Jerusalem on the scale of 1-10?

~6.4

lol I could barely stand to read Finnegans Wake by Joyce -- an intelligent academic. No way I'm wasting my time on this drivel

Comics are the zeitgeist bro

>Joyce -- an intelligent academic
I ought to wash your mouth out.

You ought to get off this site and read a book is what you ought to do.

he reads like second-rate neal Stephenson.

underrated

samefagged

Not really wacky, more bleak and eerie (at least so far, I'm about 1/4 in). Some stuff could be called outlandish, depending on your tastes

This guy is on the french translation. Those parts must be fun.

pictured instead for "Our system thinks your post is spam" etc. Who'd shill their blog here, baka...

I don't really read Veeky Forums style books very often, so this has been something of a challenge. Nothing more disheartening than putting a book down defeated after trying to read the same page through 4 or 5 times. I think the best progress I've made is by reading very quickly so as to skim over the obtuse amounts of descriptions to get to what is actually physically happening in the scene, and I'm really not sure thats how I'm supposed to be reading this. I dunno, hope it wasn't a waste of 20$

I think it starts to flows a bit more easily past the first couple sections, or perhaps it's just that you get used to it. If it's any consolation, this really is over the top for any genre of literature in terms of how much description is crammed in at first.

This. Also a lot of the word choices seem to be done for rhythm or semi-poetic reasons, which makes it an aesthetically nice read but sometimes obscures what's actually going on.

Thats good to hear, I had assumed until now that I wasn't a retard, but a book like this starts to make you wonder

I wouldn't be surprised if he did make the first chapters harder on purpose, doesn't he hate a lot of his dumb fan boys?

Doesn't seem like a hateful guy, and though he would probably like to avoid the embarrassment of getting support from 30+yo watchmen fans it's more likely he's just overindulging himself in describing his hometown

give link already

fuck this board

Did it with his other book made the start purposely difficult he said jokingly he did it to get rid of scum

libgen.io/foreignfiction/ads.php?md5=1728efeaa65d3cce926f0e3ddfe967e2
Don't blame me if he turns up at your house with a snake puppet

thanks, couldn't find it on libgen

>"Help, this book has no CliffsNotes!"

So are The Ballad of Halo Jones and Providence.

Review at The Last War in Albion:

eruditorumpress.com/blog/jerusalem-review/

>I wouldn't be surprised if he did make the first chapters harder on purpose
He allegedly did that with Voice of the Fire.

>written in a retard's pseudodialect to repell retards
huh

You forgot Tom Strong.

Good of you to exclude the Batman bit but why has nobody read Lost Girls

Wait, he did Halo Jones?

yeah, this board sure is a lot more fun when all the people actually getting an education in literature leave and we can meme about shit authors all day without mean grad students telling us than alan moore is a joke, despite what Time's 100 best novels list tells us

Is this especially unfocused bait, aimed at all kinds, or do you actually believe "getting an education in literature" isn't as derogatory as underage here

>here
(or anywhere else for that matter)

Because it's way too big and expensive. The only time I've ever seen it in a shop it was over $150.

I've not read it yet.

And I've yet to read Lost Girls.

Yes, though we may never see the conclusion:

eruditorumpress.com/blog/all-known-and-unknown-things-the-last-war-in-albion-part-103-the-not-end-of-halo-jones/

I don't believe Harold Bloom has ever written anything worthwhile. I think my favourite thing by him is the Harry Potter as a gateway to Stephen King, but even that's like middle tier rag journalism.

Century by Moore features a great spoof character amalgamated from Potter and similar children's lit heroes.

I want summerfags to leave

user was mentioning Bloom's automatic zinger about Stephen King's defense of Harry Potter - King said at least it gets people to read and they'd read him when they grow up, like he believes that's an improvement

It sounds more like King was poking fun at himself.

and I'd do it again

Yes, and Bloom disregarded that entirely and in the face of all the unspoken rules of rhetorical elegance jumped on him like a fat sack of sloths, which act of discourtesy is in this case hilarious

no one cares

Found a pic showing size difference between the editions

Why would anyone want a bigger version of an already heavy book? Do you read on pulpits? Is it a masturbation-related joke?

Big print presumably, got to cater to the squinty old folks.

Lost Girls is so fucky. I didn't get aroused at all, which is a good thing. You can easily find it online.

4/5 book.

i would prefer a larger sized font any day. i work all day in front of screens and my eyes get sore some days.

anyways, this isn't the type of book you're going to take out to the park or to the coffee shop to read unless you purchased the three-volume set.

Hardcover doesn't have big print

Get an e-ink reader
That way you can enlarge the font too

alpha s fuck. same here, family.

Looking at book 1, it definitely gets smoother going, especially since Moore uses some odd narration style which, while it stays firmly third person, more or less adopts the character's dialect and ways of speech. It doesn't make much sense in theory and I don't recall seeing it elsewhere before but I guess it's not so different from the now common practice of occasionally injecting stream-of-consciousness into narration.

who the fuck is Alan Moore

Joyce did that sort of thing in some parts of Ulysses.

nah, i can't stand reading for pleasure on kindles or pads. i get the same soreness in my eyes reading on them, too. i'm in front of a screen around 6-10 hours every single day. the last thing i want to do when i get home is get in front of another screen. thanks for the advice, tho.

You could be talking about faulkner you know

A comics writer/hedge wizard who switched to novels a few years ago

Jesus, how it is possible that in the year of the Lord 2016 someone still doesn't know what e-ink technology is?

ink isnt a screen, dumbass

If you read interviews of him talking about books you can see how well read he is. He won't go down in history like Joyce but it's great to see him doing what makes him happy

"kindles" have a display that mimics paper. If you think it has a screen you're probably thinking of the poorly named "kindle fire" which is a tablet and has nothing to do with e-readers

I'm greatly enjoying the book so far. For some reason the thick prose really works for me. If I read it quickly I'll build up the scene and details without getting bogged down, but if I read slowly there's little tidbits of his writing that have me laughing or appreciating the word choice.

It's very comfy for me.

Do you not know of Alan Moore, famed communist and British national?

He's the one who mentioned the Gravity's Rainbow Hiroshima headline in an interview, right? And his latest one was DFWmania. Veeky Forums-like desu

>MB DRO ROSHI When discussing GR, the writer Alan Moore recalled this sequence as "the whole point of the novel... It’s just this bit of burnt paper that, if you put it together, talks about America dropping the atom bomb on Hiroshima. Which is of course, the end of the V bomb, which has been made obsolete. Gravity’s got a new rainbow."
Yes

He talked about wanting to read Zizek recently too, think it was in the NYT piece.

Kek, could he have trolled Thatcher any harder?