But I think sometimes, and this goes back to my days as an English Lit major sitting within the bowels of the library computer room hammering away at my oh so pretentious comparison of James Joyce's Ulysses to William Faulkner's Sound and the Fury while next to me was a cool guy (wore black, blond curly hair, glasses, and a sharp almost hawkish nose matching equally sharp cheekbones, plus black leather boots) wrote his thesis on the superhero as vigilante in noir graphic novels, that discussing great works of literature can come across as pretentious (or maybe elitist is the better word) - especially if one feels the need to state obvious things like "oh its brilliant" and "a great work" - well, duh, otherwise it would not still be in print after 100 years or for that matter translated in numerous languages. Prior to that I read numerous posts in numerous blogs expounding on the brilliance of Proust.which like it or not can occasionally come across as a little pretentious. Before picking up Swann's Way, I flirted with it for about two months in the local book store.
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