About 30 years ago, I was exposed to a trendy discovery of Latin American new classics. Gabriel G Marquez, Jorge Borges, Julio Cortazar etc. For a cople of months my head was confused, why some books spell bound me into reading them through the night and some felt like a homework. I quickly realized that some are great literature and some are great experiments in achieving it (necessary but failing short) and some are just looks like it. The last ones can be a miss by the same authors, or just something filling the form of great literature, but being empty and like you said incoherent inside. The last part is very important, like emperor without clothes, nobody understands, but nobody wants to admit it, so the more incomprehensible the better.
That has quickly became a litmus test for me to separate posers from free thinkers in my new circle of literature friends. Asking them a quick question about 62 model and hear him regurgitate critics was a quick way to show me how my time will be lost talking to them.
