Novel & Cerita Booktok Ruining Literature

“I’d rather read the manual for a fridge.” Someone snorted, I didn’t see who, and the disapproval on the professor’s face deepened. He looked like someone had peed in his Cheerios, or whatever the Americanism was. “This masterpiece of literature would not be published in today’s time because people are impatient and have a short attention span, which is a pity.” No, he was the pity. The book was excellent when you broke it apart and studied it, it had its interesting parts, but the professor was doing nothing to make the story or the study engaging for his students.

“Kaszalo.” He sighed, cleared his throat. “Most people look at these and assume, as we do, that all of this is nothing but paper and ink.” He scanned the shelves, the volumes. “What they don’t know is these books have a life.” His eyes slowed, pausing on the antique letters stamped on the battered spines. The different heights, widths, colors. “Books are never just books. Never just paper, ink. Dust.” He looked at her. “These stories mean something. Even if those who told them disappeared long ago, these words are their voices, their lives. Still. “And there’s nothing worse than robbing someone of their words, right?”

“I was just telling Aly here that we should write up a review on A****n, warning people about the painful point of view changes in the book.” The teacher nodded. “What don’t you like about them?” I shrugged. “For one, it’s distracting. By the time you come back around to a character’s story, you have to flip back to their last chapter to see where their story left off. It’s tedious.” Roy sniggered. “He’s actually reading the book, for fuck’s sake.” Marina murmured. “Guess loser pussy really changes you.” The teacher diverted her attention. “Roy. Marina. Anything to add?”

So, I ruffle a couple of pages and read randomly if anything catches my attention. Being a bookaholic serpent has its advantages. I can almost guess the next line, the next chapter, and the next theory. It isn’t a mastery but an art that has been bestowed upon me with time and endless readings. In the present case, nothing seems to be promising in any of the crap the werewolves have written. Mostly, the same basic ideas over and over again: keep them concise, true, simple, lucid, uncontroversial, and blah blah blah.

Roman asked me. Confident that he would not have read it, I told him. Roman snorted derisively. “Sarah J. Maas is evidence that the traditional publishing industry is full of rubbish. Those novels are the literary equivalent of eating Cadbury chocolate for dinner.” “That’s not fair,” I said. “If you sit down and read them…” “I have read all four books,” Roman interrupted. “Including that Frost and Starlight novella nonsense. I can assure you my opinion is well-founded indeed. To begin, the riddle in the first book is so simplistic that—”

Maybe his own thinking was just too conservative. With this in mind, James searched online for answers to many related questions. He came across a term repeatedly mentioned online: "BL literature." He decided to explore it and instantly discovered a whole new world. He thought to himself, if it's called "literature," it must have some depth to it, right? Maybe if he learned more about it, he could come to accept it more easily. However... The covers of these books seemed a bit too frivolous, reminiscent of the comics Diana had shared before, which struck him as oddly similar.

Though I'm confuse, I casually said, “This wondrous of a place usually empty. People forgot to pay a visit or to even got themselves immerse to the world that this wondrous of a place offer them with sincerity. I thought you are highly affected by such a failure of showing gratitude to literature coming from them?” His eyes couldn't actually intimidating but there's a melancholy that I didn't expected to seen. My statement just now goes awakwardly, and I chuckled as that to forgot my place on this unknown and strange of a place. I cough and turn my head to the shelf that offer a variety of book that looks bloody yet comforting. “Oh,” I gasped, not able to hide my awed. “That's a classic...”

So, the best thing for me to do is to avoid her. People still say stupid things about her. I am already very tired of hearing all the side derogatory comments about her. it is very sickening. People should just learn to stop all this petty bullying. It is not cool at all. I entered the library and I picked a seat at the far end of the library. I picked a literature textbook. Literature has been giving me issues for a while now. I want to really focus on it today. I sat down and started skimming through the textbook. I honestly do not understand what I am reading but I just continued.

They weren't joking when they said they'll have a word with my boss about my working hours. Instead of dying from embarrassment, I headed toward the book section, I could read while they aren't here. It's probably the last time I'll set foot in this place, my boss is one mean lady, she'll fire me for sure. Looking around the shop was fairly packed today, we weren't extremely busy, but not empty either. I was trying to catch a book from the top shelf, while keeping my short skirt down. I really should ask mommy for longer skirt, even with the high knee socks keeping me warm, I still was at risk of diaper flashing.

"You make it seem as if your books are some kind of fairy tale that you weave to satisfy and at the same time deceive your readers. I can't agree with this no matter what. You're free to think of feelings and relationships any way you want, but, to degrade your works and your profession like this isn't something that could stand here and hear you say without saying something, I have read your book, Jun. And no matter how much you lie to me, you can't deceive me into thinking that your writings are heartless acts of molding a story to suit the reader's desires. Maybe I would have believed it before I read your book, but not now. Your book has too much essence for that to be true. They're the