Anthony Trollope, too many books
John Milton, too lovey-dovey with Satan
Samuel Pepys, too much gossip about people I haven’t met
Alexander Pope, too rhymey
William Makepeace Thackeray, too sharp
William Wordsworth, too flowery
William Faulkner, too many words
William Blake, too ambiguous; experienced or innocent…which the
F is it?
William Carlos Williams, too William-y
Matthew Arnold...though I remain eager to publish my undergrad
story about a frat party, title inspired by “Dover Beach”:
“Where Ignorant Armies Clash by Night”
Jonathan Swift…though I continue to nod in pleased
recognition at every newspaper op-ed reference to “A Modest Proposal”
Thomas Hardy…though I don’t know why not; I loved his books
back then! Maybe too far from the literary crowd these days??
NOTE: I'm taking a summer break from writer interviews and am just going to have FUN with this blog for a month or so.
