That was great. Loved your improved paragraph—Ive been there! At this point, I'm kind of weary of books written by intellectuals about intellectuals. They're often great and I do enjoy them, but they depict a rarified world; one, at turns, that veers to (dare I say it?) 'self-indulgence'. Yes, I've read Camus and Shakespeare and Joyce and Kafka and so on, but I'd prefer something a little closer to Truth if you can find it buried beneath the literary allusions.

An interesting issue I may write about is the incongruity of digital media within the formal limitations of the novel, or for that matter, the codex (emails, texting, social media etc.). At uni, I spoke to my professor about this subject asking him if he'd read any novels attempting this 'realism'. He said they were awful. A pretty biting opinion, but there is truth to it, I think. We assume the novel to be a kind of eternal artform. Sure it evolves (not really past Joyce and Beckett imo) but it will always be there. I'm gonna butcher this now as this might as well be free association, but there is an unshakable anacrhonism to it; as reading long form-fiction (even so-called modern novels) feels more and more like going back in time.

Anyway, this was great, I'd love to read an essay by you that isn't in the style we Medium writers are slaves to.