hello lozmatron, I'm chrisjb.
Here is my experience of literature:
Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 5
This book was fucking amazing and if you study it you will like it and it will be the best piece of literature you will ever read.
E.M. Forster's A Passage to India
This book is beautifully written literature and a great book. On the same level as Vonnegut's book... But it's fucking dense as and it takes FOREVER to read. I never got past the first section, but I'm reading it now and I'm almost finished and it's as good as I remember it being.
D.H. Lawrence's novellas
These are alright, I didn't read much of them, just part of 'The Fox', but I'm sure they're fairly good.
Gwen Harwood's Poems
This lady is a total moron. She refuses to write good poetry and instead she writes absolute garbage that we've seen a million times before about feminism, the Australian landscape, education and all that other crap that women care about. If you're a woman you'll fkn love her poetry, you'll think she's the cat's pyjama's, and I will never understand why because I am a man. However, I will say that I have not yet met a STRAIGHT man who likes this woman's poetry. Namely because it's utter shite and all men are able to see that, while women have somehow had their eyes shielded.
Why the hell did she even choose to write this crap? Really? Gwen, if you're reading, we don't give a toss about your primary school memories, or your failed life that you choose to blame men for. I get it, your a miserable twat who is stuck looking back on your life and thinking 'oh, what could have been'. Well, Harwood, judging by Estruary and the other crap we had to read this year, you spent the last 40 years of your life pretending you were fkn dead or wanting with all your heart to be dead and taking writing your retropsective anus grade memories about your life as a child and your life as a wife and your life in general. Perhaps if you had've lived for the moment a little more, enjoyed what the fuck was going on in life and what was real then you wouldn't have looked back and seen only bullcrap dance before you. Maybe if you stopped feeling so sorry for yourself and writing B-Grade poetry about how depressing your life is because you're a woman and because you're coming to terms with death and because you were forced to live a life of education that any 3rd world child would beg for when all you wanted to do was be an artist (or should I say autist) THEN YOU WOULD'VE HAD SOMETHING GOOD TO LOOK BACK ON WHEN YOU ENTERED YOUR FATHER'S HOUSE!
If you are made to do Gwen Harwood, I advise you to not do Gwen Harwood.