Rakesh87
Dreamer
I have been reading a lot these days. Heavy stuff and I'm proud of that. Like Sebald, Knausgaard and Proust. My world view has been changed, the use of language has changed. I have become a stoic now. I take things stolidly. And now I believe i could write in English, and the novel belongs to the genre of autofiction.
If you ask me about the plot, no there is not. Like there is not much in In search of lost time or My struggle by Knausgaard. My novel will be anti proustian. I want to challenge everything and experiment with various literary devices. It's all about a man-boy who grows up in an obscure village in India. He ruminates a lot, rejected everywhere and then finds solace in Philosophical pessimism. He devours cioran and ligotti. He takes Celine and Dazai. He walks with Pessoa and Malraux.
This must be a new way of thinking, at least for me. I am not able to find anyone anywhere who resonates with me. I live a lonely life with my Proust and Knausgaard. I am an outsider everywhere. The village where I live don't give a damn to my intellectual peregrinations. On online, people don't respond when i mention i write a la Proust. Then I came here.
So, friends, this is all about my life. There is a scene in my novel, when the hero looks at the river and relishes the experience when the water slowly reaches his legs. He finds it very spiritual, like a motherly affection. He stands there for hours, letting him to be caressed by the river.
I just wanted to talk with you. Anyone like philosophical fiction? Or interested? If yes let's motivate each other
I wish you all the best and have a nice day.
If you ask me about the plot, no there is not. Like there is not much in In search of lost time or My struggle by Knausgaard. My novel will be anti proustian. I want to challenge everything and experiment with various literary devices. It's all about a man-boy who grows up in an obscure village in India. He ruminates a lot, rejected everywhere and then finds solace in Philosophical pessimism. He devours cioran and ligotti. He takes Celine and Dazai. He walks with Pessoa and Malraux.
This must be a new way of thinking, at least for me. I am not able to find anyone anywhere who resonates with me. I live a lonely life with my Proust and Knausgaard. I am an outsider everywhere. The village where I live don't give a damn to my intellectual peregrinations. On online, people don't respond when i mention i write a la Proust. Then I came here.
So, friends, this is all about my life. There is a scene in my novel, when the hero looks at the river and relishes the experience when the water slowly reaches his legs. He finds it very spiritual, like a motherly affection. He stands there for hours, letting him to be caressed by the river.
I just wanted to talk with you. Anyone like philosophical fiction? Or interested? If yes let's motivate each other
I wish you all the best and have a nice day.