Literary Lounge

Litsketches where authors, characters, and classics get a modern literary makeover. Satirical, insightful takes on poetry, novels, and literary legends. Where authors, poems, and literary classics get the ABS treatment—sharp, bold, and never boring. Dive into scrolls on Shakespeare, Plath, Dickens, Austen, and more, with wit as your bookmark.

“Trophies for the Wordsmiths: When Literature Wins (and Sometimes Regrets It)”

Celebration of Prizes, Prestige, and the Publishing World’s Favourite Popularity Contest ABS Believes: A trophy doesn’t make a book timeless—but it does make it a bestseller for two weeks.Prizes are where literature meets marketing, and genius is filtered through judging panels with jetlag.But still—we cheer, we argue, we Google the winner (and promise to read […]

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“Sprung Rhythm: When Poetry Got Tired of Marching and Started Skipping”

Hopkins, Nursery Rhymes, and the Great Metrical Rebellion ABS Believes: Poetic rhythm shouldn’t behave like a parade. It should behave like a toddler on sugar: unpredictable, adorable, and terrifyingly free. The Meter That Misbehaved There are two types of rhythm in this world: The kind that walks into a room, straightens its tie, and recites

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“Curtain Call for Logic: A Backstage Pass to the Theatre of the Absurd”

From Godot’s Delays to Rhinoceros Rampages—Why Drama Finally Snapped ABS The Literary Scholar Believes: That when history becomes incoherent and coffee loses meaning, theatre must step in—not to explain, but to mirror the madness back with impeccable comic timing. Welcome to the Play Where Nothing Happens—and That’s the Point Let’s begin with a confession: this

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Litsketch 22. Middlemarch: Small Town, Big Feels, Endless Subplots

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who firmly believes that in Middlemarch, no one minds their business, and that’s precisely the point) If you’ve ever thought your town was too nosy, too dramatic, or too obsessed with marriage and mortgages, rest assured: George Eliot did it first and better in Middlemarch. Published in eight volumes between 1871–72

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Litsketch 21. The Stranger: Existential Ennui, Murder, and Meursault’s Emotional Day Off

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who believes that if life is absurd, you may as well squint at the sun and be late to your own trial) Some novels begin with a bang. Others begin with a body. The Stranger begins with a sentence that feels like both and neither: “Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday,

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Litsketch 20. As I Lay Dying: One Coffin, Many Voices, and an Unplanned Family Road Trip

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who firmly believes that if your family road trip doesn’t involve a flood, a fire, and a decomposing matriarch, you haven’t truly earned your Faulkner) Welcome to the most dysfunctional funeral procession in American literature. William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying (1930) is the kind of novel you read, then reread,

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Litsketch 19. The Trial: Bureaucracy’s Kafkaesque Fever Dream Where No One Knows What You Did

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who firmly believes that if life is a courtroom, Kafka never gave us the charges—just the echo of footsteps in a never-ending corridor) Once upon a time in the grey, gaslit corners of modernity, a man woke up to find himself arrested. Not cuffed. Not jailed.Just politely, mysteriously, fatally… accused. Of

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Litsketch 18. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: Victorian Toxic Masculinity in Two Convenient Forms

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who firmly believes that if repression had a user manual, Victorian men wrote it and then promptly tore it in half by moonlight) Before there were dual SIM phones, there were dual personalities.And before Marvel gave us Hulk-smash and Bruce Banner’s brooding remorse, Robert Louis Stevenson handed us a cautionary tale

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Litsketch 17. Room with a View: When Travel Cures Victorian Repression (Kind Of)

By ABS, The Literary Scholar(Who firmly believes Florence should be prescribed for all cases of cultural constipation and gender-based claustrophobia) There are novels that arrive like grand trains—majestic, well-scheduled, and heavily metaphorical. And then there’s A Room with a View (1908), which breezes in like a sunbeam through lace curtains, carrying with it the scent

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