as long as the setting feels right to him, he's not going to double-check to see if it makes sense.Which I think is fair. And is basically designed to annoy the hell out of James Nicoll. He's not asking for hard SF, he's asking for something that at least passes the laugh test.
To be honest, I have almost the same problems with the book that you do, so please don't think you're alone in hating it. I think you've nailed the key problems with the story and its world quite nicely.I'm not sure I've ever actually seen an author go "yeah, that part was shit" about his own work before. Weird.
Now and then, in the haste of business, it had been my habit to assist in comparing some brief document myself, calling Turkey or Nippers for this purpose. One object I had in placing Bartleby so handy to me behind the screen, was to avail myself of his services on such trivial occasions. It was on the third day, I think, of his being with me, and before any necessity had arisen for having his own writing examined, that, being much hurried to complete a small affair I had in hand, I abruptly called to Bartleby. In my haste and natural expectancy of instant compliance, I sat with my head bent over the original on my desk, and my right hand sideways, and somewhat nervously extended with the copy, so that immediately upon emerging from his retreat, Bartleby might snatch it and proceed to business without the least delay.posted by ennui.bz at 5:00 AM on February 20, 2010 [1 favorite]
In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, rapidly stating what it was I wanted him to do—namely, to examine a small paper with me. Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not to.”
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posted by Artw at 3:52 PM on February 19, 2010