What book has your favorite prose?
Finnegans Wake
But you didn't see that one coming, OP.
The Peregrine by JA Baker.
lolita. motherless brooklyn. great jones street.
>>7387663
ebin
SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK!
Anyways I gotta say probably Invisible Cities
Absalom, Absalom! especially Mr. Compson's sections
moby dick
runnerup: lolita
did you like the prose when he is explain all the type of whales there are in the world.
>>7387649
Ulysses
>>7387813
Makes Me Feel This Waaaay....
Something by Cormac McCarthy maybe. But I always loved how A Clockwork Orange was written.
>>7387649
In English: Moby Dick
In Italian: Invisible Cities
In Spanish: I'm actually going to say 100 Years in spite of Quixote
Also, OP, I love you for your musical choice. Have you ever heard the Urinals?
>>7387823
legit masterpiece tbqh senpai
>>7387649
one hundred years of solitude
fucking marquez dude. i don't know how he did it
>>7387649
gravitys rainbow. it was never too confusing for me like most made me believe, it all just flowed together so well.
i also prefer salinger with how pleasantly simple he is, as well as bukowski and hemmingway.
>>7387649
Something by Tolstoy. Probably War & Peace at its best.
>>7387988
Under the Volcano is fantastic when you get used to it. To The Lighthouse is my favorite Woolf, but I've yet to read The Waves. I've only read Bolano in English, so I feel I don't truly know his prose, but By Night in Chile is amazing.
>favorite prose
>names something he read in translation
No device to measure, no word can define. I mean what I'm trying to say is how can I express – let alone possess?
>SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK
>>7387649
Recognitions, Moby Dick, Gravity's Rainbow.
>>7387649
murphy by samuel becket or lolita
Ulysses. If you disagree you just haven't read it.
>>7387955
any part in particular?
>>7387649
Heart of Darkness and The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man were really enjoyable in this aspect.
>>7388441
This
>Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. God becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all dead. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.
