Distinguishing between the artist and work.
I know the worker and don't believe in the artist. He is a mealy-mouthed good-for-nothing artist. I respect his fiction, but the man is cracked. I know him and he is a shady person. He only says hi when he wants to say goodbye. He only speaks to you to speak of his work cause ultimately that is all that matters. There is a distinct separation with me. I loathe the artist, but love his work and retain a holistic ambivalence. I know nothing bout him. He evades questions that are personal and that is his personality. He changed numbers frequently and leaves when he wants. I don't think he has a friend. We were friends and this is not destructive criticism of the work, but the mannish child. He was a friend of mine. I love his work of fiction and it is utterly imaginative and the illustrations are merely an extension of his words. He once mentioned his failure as a writer is why he incorporated an illustrator. He felt his words didn't fully convey his story. His story can stand on its own, but the illustrations develop or visualize his interpretation of his work as he explained it to his illustrator.
The names are pretty and the story is prettier. There is an aestheticism that is charming. It is a simple story that is made seamless. The goal of art is to conceal art is what somebody said. Don't allow the inner-workings to reveal themselves on the page. It just feels like every word was meant to be there. It congealed and works together as a whole. The ending is vague and poses a question. He gave away his ticket to Happyland for the sake of Leopold's happiness. He gave his other ticket to Lily. It ends with a question. Is Lily real or is she a reflection of him. Lily is life. If she is life, he needs her to enter into Happyland. What is the point of happiness if you are dead?
Love the work, dislike the person.