I have come to realize that I can no longer handle listening to other people talk about their favorite books. It is 50 shades of aggravating, watching them as they recommend “good” books to each other, not even knowing about the actual gems that exist in the world of written word.
Before I continue, I would just like to say that this is not a post dedicated to trashing 50 Shades of Gray or any other specific pseudo-literary work. Do I have a deep, resounding hatred for said book? Yes, but the rest of humanity has done that onslaught well enough as it is.
It is not subject matters that I find distasteful. Erotica, BDSM, romance, bastardized mythical creatures and the like are just fine to write about. It is the nature and quality of writing of the mass-produced stories that are problematic for me. Do I enjoy any of the aforementioned topics? No, but that doesn’t mean that I would trash something just because it isn’t to my taste.
The issue at hand is simply that we are awarding ingenuity to works that are remarkably subpar and making them a standard to which budding authors feel they must meet in order to get published and recognized. We are allowing ourselves to believe that there is positivity in mediocrity; We no longer care if our children grow up rejecting books of substance, and continuously applaud them when they pick up anything that isn’t computerized–as if written word of any kind is better than a video game.
And more dismal still is that we entertain people who fancy themselves avid readers; who then laud and recommend tawdry creations to others, spreading their disease throughout the land.
But ask them of Seymour Hersh or Kafka. They’ll draw themselves a jolly old blank and look at you as if you yourself are drab. Pick up cooler books, you hag. Up with the times, they’ll say. Don’t read what is dated. Come to our side. We have
Twilight 50 Shades of Gray!
You’ll have to kill me, first.
Lest I be considered a snob, I will say, I do not mind an “easy read” so long as it is well-written and at least a little original in some aspect.
However, no matter how much I wish it weren’t so, a book is a book, no matter how shitty.
Much like a person is a person, no matter how shitty.
No…that can’t be right.