I think this is a famous author, but I’m not sure because I don’t pay attention to what writers look like.(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s almost that time of the year, when magazines and television shows compile a bunch of Top Ten or “Best of…” lists. I don’t mind these end-of-the-year lists because I can tune them out if I’m in the wrong mood, and I’m sure there’ll be a bunch of “Best Books of 2013” lists coming out soon, but The Guardian has done something a little different. Instead of making up a normal “Top Books of 2013” List, it has a selection of famous authors selecting their favorite books of the year.
I’m not sure I’ve read anything that was published in 2013. I’ve read a couple 2012s and a couple 2011s, but I’m not sure I’ve gotten to 2013s. Most of those are still hardcover, or somebody else gets them from the library before I do, and they’re still over $10.00 on the e-reader. That’s the thing. When you’re an economical reader (or a cheap bastard), you can’t do an annual “Best of…” list unless it’s a list from a couple (or few) years ago.
I’m interested in the famous author reading list, but not because I care what famous authors think. It’s because famous authors often pick books I’ve never heard of, and I’m interested in learning about books I’ve never heard of. I probably won’t read these books, but I’d like to at least hear about them.
I used to care about what famous authors thought about books. But Stephen King ruined it for me.
A few years ago Stephen King wrote a column for a weekly entertainment magazine, and sometimes he mentioned books that he liked. One summer he raved (maybe too strong a word) about an upcoming apocalypse novel called The Passage by Justin Cronin. Stephen King (if I remember this correctly) favorably compared The Passage to his own novel (and one of my favorites) The Stand.
Because of King’s review, I pre-ordered The Passage and eagerly began reading it when I received it. After a pretty good start, it slowed down, and about halfway through I realized that the book kind of sucked (in my opinion). Readers who made it to the end (the kind of readers who’ll finish a novel no matter what) agreed that the middle got a bit long and dull (and unreadable) but said the end was good.
I was annoyed with Stephen King. In fact, I wondered if he’d actually read the entire novel. I suspect he didn’t. I’m not sure he had the time back then. King was writing a bunch of books, and his columns for the weekly entertainment magazine discussed books, music, movies, and (I think) television shows. How did he have the time to become an expert in all these forms of entertainment while still writing a bunch of books? I don’t think it’s possible to be an expert in so many areas. Something had to give. And what would have been the most time-consuming activity (except for writing books)? Reading books.
That makes me believe (without any real proof) that Stephen King didn’t really read The Passage. I’m not accusing Stephen King of not reading The Passage. I just suspect that he didn’t. I’d hate to accuse Stephen King of something and then be wrong about it (not that I’d ever find out either way). I’ve been accused of stuff before, and I didn’t like being accused, even when the accusations were correct.
Even if Stephen King has never read The Passage, that’s okay. I used to pretend to read books too. I just hope nobody has ever pre-ordered a book based on my recommendation (I don’t pre-order anymore).
At any rate, the Guardian has a bunch of authors picking their favorite books from 2013. I’d probably trust their judgment a little more than King’s, if only because each author had to choose only one book. It’s not like they had to make a deadline for a weekly entertainment magazine. Even though I haven’t heard of most of the books that the famous authors liked, a couple of them sounded interesting. The books sounded kind of literary, though, so I’d probably have a tough time reading them. Reading about them might be the best that I can do.
But enough about me! Would you listen to a book recommendation from a famous author? Do you pre-order books Have you ever fallen for the hype of a book only to be disappointed (or ripped off)? Have you read any books published in 2013 (and what’s your favorite)?
My girlfriend Danielle sometimes got into situations that were tough to explain. For example, Vin, this creepy (and maybe violent) guy from her past, had shown up while we were eating at a Mexican restaurant, and he had threatened Danielle right there in front of me. She’d sent me out on a crock errand to get her bag out of the car when two guys and a busboy told me Danielle had paid them to make sure I didn’t go back into the restaurant. It was tough to explain to them that Danielle and Vin were the crazy ones, not me.
While the three guys were keeping me out, a commotion went on inside the restaurant, the police showed up, and now we could see officers bringing somebody out. Knowing Danielle, I figured there was an even chance she had done something to Vin and had made sure I wasn’t there to stop her. And maybe whatever she had planned had backfired. Whatever had happened, the police were there and somebody was getting arrested.
I really hoped Danielle wasn’t getting arrested, but I couldn’t tell. From my view in the parking lot, I couldn’t tell for certain what was going inside the restaurant. Between the distance, the glare in the windows, and the people in the way, all I knew was that the police officers escorting somebody from the back of the restaurant. It could have been Danielle. It could have been Vin. It didn’t appear to be both.
Please don’t be Danielle, please don’t be Danielle, I thought.
Two police officers came barreling out the double doors with a handcuffed Vin. Vin seemed calm and in good health. He didn’t have any scratches on his face. No silverware stuck out of any of his body parts. There were no food or drink stains on his clothes or hair. I was puzzled. Whatever had happened, I expected more damage.
When Vin noticed me in the parking lot, his eyes narrowed and he shook his head at me. I was offended that a guy getting arrested would shake his head at me, so I narrowed my own eyes in an attempted look of disgust, and I shook my head at him too. We were both shaking our heads at each other when the police officer made sure Vin hit his head on the way into the squad car.
The tall guy watching over me asked, “Who was that?”
“That… was the ‘crazy shit’ from Library Girl’s past,” I said. I had no idea what had just happened in the restaurant, but I figured it was about time to find out. “I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s okay for me to go in now.”
I expected the restaurant to be a disaster area with chairs knocked over and shattered dishes strewn all over the place, but everything looked intact. Most patrons were getting reseated, while a few were still milling around, talking about what had just happened. The couple that Danielle and I had mocked for sitting on the same side of a booth were by the bar now, watching me with sad eyes. That kind of worried me. I picked up the pace and entered the dining area.
Danielle sat at our booth holding an icepack on her forehead, and several wait staff stood around while the remaining police officer her asked her questions. I saw her nod and speak quietly. Her glasses were on the table next to our copy of Pride and Prejudice. Even though Danielle was usually confident (maybe too confident) and loud, now she seemed physically small and vulnerable. I stood still, unsure what to do. Something had happened to Danielle. Whatever it was, I should have been there. I had a vague sense of what had gone on, and I felt guilty.
“What happened?” I asked cautiously.
“Vin hit me,” Danielle said.
“And?” I asked. There had to be more to the story.
“I fell down.”
I probably appeared to be a horrible boyfriend (and maybe I was). I should have been beyond furious that a guy had punched out my girlfriend, but I stood there almost emotionless. Yeah, I was a monotone guy, but still, I had to have a better reaction than nothing. I was relieved that she had only been punched. I had expected a knockdown, drag-out brawl with “crazy shit” woman, and instead I watched quiet, vulnerable Library Girl hold an ice pack on her head. Internally, I was relieved, but I couldn’t act relieved. I had to act outraged. And I wasn’t a good actor.
“Oh my God!” I said, trying to put inflection into my monotone voice. “Are you okay?” Right then, I knew that was a stupid question. “How bad is it?”
Danielle lifted her ice pack to show a red spot on her right forehead. She had a hard head. Maybe Vin broke his hand on it.
“I’ll… I’ll..!” I was about to make some vague threat about what I’d do to the guy who had hit my girlfriend and was already arrested, but I was a skinny guy, and I didn’t carry myself like a fighter, and I had a monotone voice, so if I tried to act tough, I would have been laughed at, but I still had to show that I was outraged by the violence that had been committed.
“I’ll… I’ll make sure that piece of… is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law!” That made me feel better.
A couple other wait staff who had witnessed it explained what had happened. Danielle and Vin had been talking quietly when Vin just belted Danielle out of nowhere. There hadn’t been any arguing or signs of disagreement. Danielle had collapsed to the floor, and Vin just stood over her, frozen. He hadn’t tried to hurt her anymore or help her or apologize. He had seemed shocked by the whole thing as well. After a couple waiters pushed him away from Danielle, Vin had just sat down at a table and waited for the police.
Once they were done explaining, Danielle got up, put her arms around my waist, and guided me back to the booth. We sat on the same side this time, and Danielle answered a few more questioned from the police officer.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t sent me out for the bag,” I said after the last officer left. This was for the benefit of the witnesses. I wanted them to know why I had been wasting time in the parking lot instead of defending my vulnerable girlfriend from an assault. “The next time I tell you that you didn’t leave your bag in the car, you should believe me.”
“You didn’t see it?” Danielle said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “It’s under the seat.”
“I checked under the seat.”
“You didn’t check good enough.”
“How do you check good enough?” I asked. “You either check, or you don’t check. And I checked, and it wasn’t there.”
“You didn’t… check… good enough!”
I realized I was pushing it by arguing with a girlfriend who’d just been punched out in public.
“We’ll check again when we get back,” I said.
An older lady on the wait staff, probably the manager, said our lunch was on the restaurant, but I knew that what had happened wasn’t their fault (it was partially Danielle’s, I was certain, but I couldn’t say that out loud), so I placed more than enough money (bill plus excessive tip) on the table. I grabbed Pride and Prejudice and handed it to Danielle, and she held my hand as we walked to the exit. The busboy was cleaning tables and didn’t make eye contact. I was pretty sure everyone was glad to see us leave.
The two guys (minus the busboy) Danielle had hired to keep me in the parking lot were still out there, but now they seemed kind of sheepish. I guessed they had heard what had happened and were feeling guilty.
Danielle waved at them and said cheerfully, “Thank you!”
The two guys took that as a sign to approach us. “Are you okay?” the tall one asked.
“I’m fine,” Danielle called out. “I just fell down.”
That was the end of their part of the conversation. Danielle took my hand again and brushed up against me as we walked to the car. Then Danielle turned to me. “If this bruises really bad, everybody’s going to think you did this to me.”
She was right. I groaned.
“I hope you use your power for good,” I said.
“I always do,” she replied.
Danielle was giving me her cheese-eating grin, but she was also walking wobbly, so I knew she needed to rest, maybe to get herself checked out. I was relieved that Danielle was taking everything in stride, but there was still a lot that she needed to tell me.
Who was Vin? What was his relationship with Danielle? What had really happened in the restaurant? How much was Danielle NOT telling me? How many people like Vin did Danielle know, and how were we going to deal with them? I knew she had gotten me out of the restaurant on purpose, but I couldn’t be a good boyfriend (or a real boyfriend) and let Danielle take on situations like that by herself. If Danielle and I were going to stay together, I was going to need some answers.
*****
To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: Past Secrets .
And to read “The Literary Girlfriend” from the beginning, start here.
Maybe I’m not the best person to judge young adult fiction. I’m almost 50. I’ve read so many books (or pretended to have read so many books) that most of them no longer hold my interest. Stuff that seems new to a YA reader is already stale to me, and a lot of current YA fiction is really stale and poorly written. You can make the argument that anybody who has ever shouted “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” should never judge a YA novel. And I’ve shouted “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” a lot. I like shouting “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” Sometimes I even shout “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” when nobody is on my lawn.
The reason this matters is that a website for a weekly entertainment magazine has been conducting a poll of its readers for the best YA novel of all time. Normally, I don’t care for lists like this, but the format was intriguing, starting with 32 YA novels, pitting two against each other in brackets (like the NCAA basketball tournament), and readers chose which novel continued to the next round.
The problem with this poll (of course there would be a problem) is that readers are picking their favorites rather than which novel is actually the best. When choosing the best, I like to have standards. Even though I hadn’t read all 32 novels, I’d read most (which surprised me). So I decided what the standards of the best YA novel should be, and from there, decided which novel best fit the criteria.
And after much consideration (“much” meaning “a few minutes of”), I decided that The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton is the Best YA Novel Ever!
First of all, The Outsiders has been around for awhile. Maybe half the novels on the website’s poll list were less than ten years old. If a novel is fairly recent, it can’t be considered best ever yet because it hasn’t been proven that it will last. I’m not saying that nobody will read The Fault in our Stars or The Hunger Games or Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets 45 years from now, but I bet that at least one of those novels will be forgotten by then. I’m not saying any of them should be forgotten, but I bet it will happen. The Outsiders is over 45 years old and going strong. I bet that 45 years from now, people will still be reading The Outsiders.
A “Best YA Novel Ever!” should also have been originally written for young adults. Novels like To Kill a Mockingbird and Ender’s Game have been around for decades, but they were originally written for adults. To Kill a Mockingbird even won a Pulitzer Prize, and that was before the YA genre even existed. To Kill a Mockingbird is a great book, but just because the main character is a kid doesn’t make it a YA novel. The Outsiders was originally intended for young adults, so it’s truly a YA novel.
Also, The Outsiders is more literary than people think, with a surprising number of references to works like Alice in Wonderland, Great Expectations, and the Robert Frost poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay.” These references may be lost on most YA readers, but it adds a depth to the book that adults (and really smart young adults) can appreciate. Most YA books have no literary references and are simple straight forward stories. There’s nothing wrong with a simple straightforward story for a YA novel, but one like that shouldn’t be “Best Ever!”
Even though The Outsiders takes place in the early 1960s, it has a relevance that most YA novels don’t. Everybody can relate to something in The Outsiders, even adults. Everybody relates to the greasers. I knew a lot of kids that were like the greasers when I was a kid, and I despised most of them in real life, but I empathized with them in the book. As an adult, if I saw a greaser in my yard, I’d yell, “GET OFF MY LAWN!” but I’d still empathize with them if I read the book again.
Maybe a movie shouldn’t influence the novel’s placement in a Best Ever!” list, but The Outsiders movie had Patrick Swayze in it. Everybody loves Patrick Swayze. Yeah, Tom Cruise was in it too, and everybody hates Tom Cruise now, but our love for Patrick Swayze overrides our disgust for Tom Cruise, so the movie is still a positive. Even better, when The Outsiders movie came out, nobody walked around outside the theaters with “Team Greaser” and “Team Soc” t-shirts either.
Even though I chose The Outsiders as The Best YA Novel Ever, it’s not even my favorite YA novel. I enjoyed reading several other books (Ender’s Game, To Kill a Mockingbird, The House on Mango Street, The Hunger Games) way more than I enjoyed The Outsiders. But I also know that there’s a difference between “favorite” and “Best Ever!”
Readers and voters from the poll on the weekly entertainment magazine website may disagree with me, but that’s okay. If they had agreed with me, I wouldn’t have had anything to write about today. And writing about this kept me from yelling “GET OFF MY LAWN!!” today. And kids throughout my neighborhood are happier because of that. But they should still get off my lawn and read The Outsiders.
I like Mark Twain, but some of his quotes about writing confuse me. (Photo credit: stevebkennedy)
If anybody can create a decent quote or give advice to aspiring writers, it’s a famous author. I like reading quotes about writing from famous authors. Some of the quotes from famous authors offer great advice, and others are witty. But every once in a while, I see a quote about writing that doesn’t seem quite… correct. Sometimes these quotes confuse me.
I don’t mean to be disrespectful by calling these quotes confusing. Maybe I’m the confused one. Maybe I don’t know the context of each quote. Maybe the quotes themselves are incorrect or misattributed. Maybe I don’t know anything and should stick to watching football. At any rate, I’ve seen each of these quotes several times, and I usually say to myself after each one, “That’s kind of confusing.”
5 CONFUSING QUOTES ABOUT WRITING FROM FAMOUS AUTHORS
“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” Stephen King
Yeah, it’s funny (or ironic) that Stephen King thinks writing is scary, but I like the moment before I start. In fact, I usually enjoy most of the writing process (except getting interrupted. Then I turn into a jerk). The only thing scary about writing is the idea of reading in front of a bunch of people. I might get angry or frustrated or depressed when I write (or before or after I write), but fear is not an emotion that I feel when I write or when others read my writing. And that’s strange because I’m scared of a lot of things, but I’m not scared of writing.
*****
“Write what you know.”- Mark Twain
I almost didn’t use this one because there’s disagreement about whether or not Mark Twain should get credit for this quote. I have no opinion about that. I only use this quote because a couple English teachers used to say this a lot. Mark Twain wrote a lot about what he knew (like life on the Mississippi River and exploring caves in Hannibal), but he used a lot of imagination too.
I like writing about things that I don’t know because people who actually DO know then respond and tell me where I’m wrong and I learn something without having to do research. I’d rather be told that I’m wrong and learn from that than do research. I like it when other people do my work for me. This shows that writing about what you don’t know can pay off.
Since this one might not be a Mark Twain quote, I chose another Twain quote as back up.
*****
“Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.” Mark Twain
I’m not sure it’s as easy as Mark Twain suggests. First, you have to write all the words. And then you have to know which ones are the wrong words. And then you have to have enough words that aren’t wrong words to have something that makes sense. That makes writing not easy.
*****
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”- Ernest Hemingway
I understand why writers appreciate this quote, but, really, everybody with a passion bleeds (metaphorically). Artists bleed. Singers, dancers, actors all bleed. Athletes bleed. A lot of people (like military and police officers) literally bleed and sacrifice. At least writers get to sit down and bleed. But since sitting down is so unhealthy for us and causes so many long-term health issues, maybe our bleeding really is worse than everybody else’s bleeding.
I don’t like bleeding, literally or metaphorically, but I like writing.
*****
“There’s no such thing as writer’s block. That was invented by people in California who couldn’t write.”– Terry Pratchett
I don’t know. I think writer’s block was invented before California was invented. Maybe California was invented by people with writer’s block. I don’t mean that as an insult. I like California.
*****
“All the information you need can be given in dialogue.”- Elmore Leonard
That may be true, but I don’t like people (or characters) who talk too much.
*****
“The adjective is the enemy of the noun.”– Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire
Usually authors gripe about the adverb, but here we have a writer denouncing the adjective. Exclamation points get criticized by a lot of writers too. Personally, I believe in using all kinds of words and punctuation wherever possible. I believe in word diversity. What’s the point of having a part of speech and then not use it? If I ever become famous, I might denounce pronouns just to see if other authors stop using pronouns as well.
Actually, I would never stop using pronouns. I would just denounce them for the sake of denouncing a part of speech, and then I would continue using them. And I believe in using adverbs very often as well.
*****
Writing should be difficult and frustrating, but maybe it shouldn’t be confusing. That’s why I don’t like getting confused when I read quotes about writing from famous authors. If I get confused when great authors write about writing, then that might mean I’ll never become a successful writer because successful writers should never get confused about what good writing is.
Are there any quotes about writing that you think are confusing? Which of these quotes do you agree with (or disagree with) the most? Which of these quotes confuses you the most (or least)? Can a writer become successful if he or she gets confused by quotes about writing from famous authors?
*****
When I was a kid, I got my mouth washed out with soap for saying the word “crap.”
Looking back, it ticks me off because now I know that…
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When Danielle put on her thick, black glasses and pulled back her hair, people thought she was a cute college coed or a librarian. Even I forgot that she cursed too much, was vindictive, and did a bunch of crazy stuff that made my life more interesting than I wanted it to be. But I wouldn’t forget for long, and I would then wonder what I had gotten myself into by living in sin with a woman I hardly knew.
It had begun as a peaceful enough Sunday afternoon before Vin, a guy from Danielle’s past, disrupted our lunch at a Mexican restaurant. After a few uncomfortable moments, Danielle sent me to the car to retrieve a bag with pictures that she wanted to show Vin. All three of us knew this was a crock. Danielle was getting me out of the restaurant for a reason, but I didn’t know why. She hadn’t brought her bag, and it wasn’t in the car, and I knew she was going to do something while I was wasting minutes walking all the way through the parking lot to her car and back.
Even though I already knew the bag wasn’t in the car, I checked so that I wouldn’t have to lie about it later. Then halfway back to the restaurant, I noticed three guys eyeing me. One was a thick busboy, and the other two were guys that I had barely noticed sitting at the bar just inside the restaurant. They (not the busboy) were my age and dressed nicely in sweaters and slacks. One was taller and had a little longer hair than the other guy. None of the three looked menacing, but they definitely were in my way.
“You Jimmy?” the tall guy said.
I paused. I was tempted to say no, but I didn’t think they’d believe me. I had a weird feeling. I didn’t feel like I was in danger, but in the city sometimes you didn’t know you were in danger until it was too late.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Your girlfriend told us to tell you to wait out here,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Crazy shit,” the tall guy said.
“Crazy shit?” I repeated.
“Those were her exact words,” he confirmed. “She said you’d understand.”
“Why are there three of you?”
“Just in case. We’re supposed to stop you.”
“You’re friends of hers.” I understood that Danielle knew a lot of guys through her job, but still, that seemed quick. How did she get three friends in just a few minutes?
“No. She paid us,” the tall guy said.
That made more sense. “With cash?” I asked.
The guy nodded. I hoped it was her own money, but I doubted it. Well, that was more of my money down the drain because of her.
We stared at each other in silence. I wasn’t a fighter. I would have had a tough time getting past one of these guys much less all three of them, but I was worried about Danielle. She had been scared of Vin, and I didn’t know why, and I didn’t know how dangerous he could be. I didn’t know what kind of scene she would make with him. With Danielle, things could get out of hand really quickly.
“You guys do this much?” I asked. “You know, keep people from going into restaurants.”
The tall guy shook his head. The other two looked around the parking lot.
“So if I bolted for the restaurant, what would you do?” I asked. “Beat me up?”
“Tackle you,” the busboy said.
“We’d do whatever it takes,” the tall guy said, but he smiled when he said it. “She just doesn’t want you to do anything crazy. No ‘crazy shit’ in the restaurant.”
Crazy shit? Danielle had convinced these three guys that I was the crazy one. I wanted to laugh, but that would have made me look crazy. There was no way that I could have explained to them that the quiet cute chick with the thick glasses and the copy of Pride and Prejudice was the one with “crazy shit” in her life. If I did anything except stand there and wait, they’d interpret it as acting crazy. So I remained quiet, which was easy for me.
I was kind of (or very) relieved. Now I didn’t have to go back inside and witness whatever was going on. If Danielle was swapping spit with Vin, or dumping a drink on him, or going after him with cutlery, I wouldn’t be a part of it. I had no idea what kind of crazy stuff was happening or about to happen, but I was grateful that Danielle had gotten me out of it. That probably wasn’t boyfriendly of me, but that was how I felt.
The tallest of the guys said, “You been going out for a while?”
I stared him in the eye proudly, and said, “A few weeks.”
“We called her ‘Library Girl’ before she talked to us.”
The other guy who wasn’t a busboy said, “We give nicknames to all the women.”
‘Library Girl’ made sense. Danielle had her big glasses on and had carried her Pride and Prejudice around so that anybody paying attention would know that she was reading it (even though she wasn’t). As far as nicknames went, ‘Library Girl’ wasn’t demeaning. It was downright respectful. Danielle would appreciate the nickname. Her literary façade seemed to be working perfectly on people who didn’t know her.
The tall guy continued. “That short waitress with the big knockers is Little Miss Cleavage. And that woman at the bar with the spandex is Camel Toe.”
The guy kept talking about other women and their nicknames, and I made a mental note to check out ‘Camel Toe’ when I returned to the restaurant, and then… Ugh, I needed to focus.
I looked at the bus boy. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning off tables?”
He suddenly looked pissed off at me. “I’m on break.”
Right after he said the word “break,” the restaurant doors flew open, and a family came running out and fled straight to their car on the other side of the lot. A few couples power-walked out and then stood by the door and peered into the windows to see what was going on. Through the darkened panes, I could see movement, groups of people moving around. Something was going on in the restaurant, something crazy. I felt vindicated.
“That’s Step One,” I said to the three guys.
I turned to the busboy. “You might want to go inside… since you work here.”
The busboy looked at the other two guys.
“I’m not going in there, I promise,” I said to the busboy. As far as I was concerned, if Danielle or ‘Library Girl’ wanted me to stay out, I was going to stay out.
The busboy ran across the lot into the restaurant, and I hoped that he would be able to keep his job.
“Whatever’s going on,” I said to the two remaining guys, “this is only the beginning. Just wait.”
And then I heard sirens in the distance. “That’s Step Two,” I said.
The two guys seemed nervous. One tapped his foot. The other couldn’t keep his eyes in one place. None of us had any idea what was going on.
Moments later, two police cars pulled up to the restaurant’s front door, and three uniformed officers ran inside.
“That’s Step Three,” I said.
By then, I probably could have run inside myself, and the two guys wouldn’t have stopped me. Maybe I should have. If something bad enough for the police had happened, then nobody would have blamed me. But whatever was going on, I wouldn’t have been able to help. I would have been a useless boyfriend. I knew I was a useless boyfriend standing outside with the two guys who were half-heartedly holding me back, but at least I was where I was told to be.
I knew somebody was going to be escorted out of the restaurant. Either Vin was coming out handcuffed, or Danielle, or both. I was guessing both. It would be just like Danielle to get herself arrested in order to get somebody else arrested too. She was vindictive enough to do it. I thought about the petty cash I had lying around the apartment and whether or not it would be enough to get her out of jail. That would be another bill of hers for me to pay.
A few minutes later, I could see the police dragging somebody out of the restaurant, but I couldn’t tell who it was between the crowd and the shade of the windows. In a moment that door was going to open, and I was going to see who and how many people were being escorted out or arrested. I was going to see how crazy the cute and quiet ‘Library Girl’ had gotten. This was going to get interesting.
“And here comes Step Four,” I said to the other guys, and I took a deep breath.
*****
To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: Response Time .
And to read “The Literary Girlfriend” from the beginning, start here.
Would book readers (or anybody) watch a reality show about unpublished authors?(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There are a lot of bad ideas for reality shows, but this one might be the worst. Italy has a reality show for unpublished writers who want a book deal (details here). As an unpublished author who watches reality shows (though I deny that I watch reality shows to my intellectual friends), I don’t want to watch other unpublished authors compete against each other on a reality show. I think it’s a really bad idea for a bunch of reasons.
First of all, reality shows have lots of arguing. Roommates argue with each other. Spouses argue with each other. Contestants stranded on islands argue with each other. Housewives argue with each other. Even judges argue with each other. Without arguing, a reality show doesn’t have much of a chance to thrive. So a literary reality show would have to have lots of arguing.
The novelist judges could argue with each other. They’re probably pompous, and they could make literary insults that most people wouldn’t understand. Nobody feels bad when a pompous author gets insulted. Contestants could also argue with each other, but I’d feel bad as a viewer watching unpublished authors with their only chance at success arguing with each other. If I wanted to see unpublished authors argue with each other, I’d join a writer’s group.
There’s also a lot of humiliation on a reality show. Contestants embarrass themselves and don’t even know it. Contestants embarrass themselves and don’t even care (meaning that they SHOULD be embarrassed but aren’t). I’m not sure I want to see authors embarrass themselves just to get a book deal. If authors are going to humiliate themselves to get a book deal, it should be done in private.
I could never be a contestant on a literary reality show. It’s not that I’m too good for a reality show. If there were ever a reality show where I thought I had a legitimate chance to win, I’d seriously think about it. But I’m a quiet guy who clams up around unfamiliar people, and I really hate cameras. As I’m getting older, I’m getting a little less quiet and a little more cranky (or crankier), but I’m not ready for a reality show yet.
I really don’t want to argue or humiliate myself on television. I’d rather never get a book deal than do that. At least on my blog, if I embarrass myself with my writing, I did it to myself and can’t blame producers for manipulating the environment or selectively editing the footage. My early writing on Dysfunctional Literacy is embarrassing enough (and maybe my current writing is embarrassing and I just don’t know it yet). I don’t need the help.
Plus, I don’t want anybody to see my writing process. Sometimes I like my finished product. I think I’ve gotten it right a few times on Dysfunctional Literacy. But my writing process is ugly. I write, get mad, write later, throw a fit, and then give up for a while. My friends think I’m a nice, patient guy, but really, I’m a jerk when I write. My family knows that I’m a jerk when I write. I don’t want the hundreds of viewers who would watch a literary reality show to know that I’m a jerk when I write. I don’t want them to see my rambling disorganized thoughts before I revise/edit and tie everything together, and I don’t want them to see my red-faced raging when I get frustrated. My writing process is messy (and I’m a jerk when I write), and I’d rather keep all of that private.
We’ll know if the Italian literary reality show is a bad idea if no other country tries it. If nobody in the United States tries to make their own literary reality show, then it’s truly a horrible idea. In fact, even if the United States tries its own version, it’s probably still a bad idea. A bad idea is a bad idea, even if other countries try it, and I don’t need to watch it to know it’s a bad idea.
Would you go on a reality show if there were a possibility to get a book deal? Would you watch a reality show where the winner gets a book deal? If you watched it, would you cringe (or is that the whole point)? Would you buy a book from an author who got a book deal from winning a literary reality show? And what kind of reality show would you go on if you absolutely had to be on one?
This was a great novel, but my fond memory has almost nothing to do with the book itself.
Most readers remember the great books for their content. That’s not always the case with me. I forget most of the details about most books I read after I’ve finished reading them. I’ve even forgotten the details of the great novels. But I have wonderful memories of a lot of great books, not for the characters or the prose, but for what was going on in my life when I read the books or the circumstances in which I read them.
Below are three books that I know I liked a lot. I don’t remember much about these novels, but I have great memories about reading them.
The Shining – by Stephen King.
I was a teenager, and it was summer, and I had never read a Stephen King book before. In front of me, I had a choice of three books: Carrie, The Shining, or The Stand. I chose Carrie because it was the shortest, and I read it in a day or so (no great accomplishment). Then I read The Shining while on vacation, some of which was during the ten-hour-a-day drives in the car. I got car sick easily, so I sat up front with the window open.
The Shining was so great that I’d read until I got nauseous (from reading itself, not from what was going on in the book) and then I’d lean against the open window with the 65 mph wind in my face until I felt better, and then I’d read until I got nauseous again. The rest of my family was scared that I’d throw up in the car, but I didn’t… that time. It was a great accomplishment, to read that much in the car without throwing up. I was proud.
When The Shining movie came out, I could tell who had read the book first and who hadn’t. People who hadn’t read the novel thought that the “Heeeere’s Johnny” scene was cool, and those who had read the book thought that scene was kind of stupid. Everybody, however, liked saying “Heeeeere’s Johnny,” even if we thought the scene was stupid.
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
When we were reading To Kill a Mockingbird in my 8th grade English class, I brought in another paperback that I was reading at home, Some Kind of Hero by James Kirkwood(?). I liked it in 8th grade (but it was made into a really bad movie with Richard Pryor later on), but I don’t know if the book still holds up. Anyway, I was showing a friend in my class a page that had the f-word on it (not because it was the f-word but because it was used in a funny way).
My English teacher (who also taught German) confiscated the book, read the page I had been showing off, and then wrote something inside the book. When he returned it later, I saw that he had circled the f-word and written in the margin “verboten.” I don’t know German, but I know what “verboten” means. For the next couple weeks, I stuck with To Kill a Mockingbird when I was in English class. I think it holds up fairly well, and it was made into a slightly better movie.
The Pillars of the Earth– by Ken Follet
I read this before Oprah even had a Book Club (it’s important to me that everybody knows that). I don’t always enjoy or finish long books, but I got into this one a lot. It was different from Follet’s usual spy stuff. But the reason I remember this novel is because I was reading it when I met my wife (but not at the exact moment when I met my wife).
The night I met my wife (I didn’t know she was going to become my wife), I gave her my phone number. I didn’t ask for hers because I didn’t think a woman should give out her number to a (possibly creepy) guy whom she had just met. I thought there was a chance she’d call, but I knew she’d make me wait a few days (which she did). I was reading The Pillars of the Earth while I waited (but not every waking moment while I waited. I had to go to work too).
When she called me, and I told her what I was reading (it wasn’t the first thing we talked about), she seemed impressed. She had heard of the book before but hadn’t read it. Even though she likes Oprah, she didn’t read it years later when Oprah selected it for her club. My wife doesn’t like other people picking out her books for her. We don’t have that copy of the book anymore. I kind of wish that I’d have kept it.
*****
These aren’t the only books that I have fond memories of. I have a lot more, but enough about me! What fond memories do you have of the great books you’ve read? What fond memories do you have of stupid books you’ve read? And finally, what fond memories do you have of mediocre books you’ve read? In other words, what fond memories do you have of the books you’ve read?
Despite living in sin with Danielle for a few weeks, there was a lot that I didn’t know about her. In fact, when it came to her past, I had an astonishing lack of knowledge. Even when I was 25, I didn’t believe in judging people too harshly about their pasts, especially when it came to a hot chick who was willing to live in sin with me. The only thing that had concerned me was what Danielle had called “crazy shit” in her life, and she seemed to have toned that down since the slutty blonde furniture incident. But then Vin had shown up at the Mexican restaurant, and things had gotten weird.
Vin sat back smirking in the booth with his arm resting on the top of the seat. I’ve never trusted smirks. I’ve caught myself smirking a few times in my life, and it was always to hide some insecurity. I didn’t know if Vin was insecure, but I was sure he wasn’t trustworthy, and the smirk confirmed it.
Even with the smirk, he kind of looked like me. He was tall and thin, but his hair was gelled back a little, and he had cool stubble. I always wished that I could have cool stubble, but mine looked too wolf-man-ish, so I always had to stay clean shaven. Vin’s voice was low and quiet, and when he’d called Danielle a bitch and threatened to hit her, nobody else in the restaurant had heard.
I wasn’t sure how Danielle and Vin had known each other. I didn’t know if Vin was an ex-boyfriend, a high school acquaintance, or a former Nero’s customer. He could have been her brother (except they looked nothing alike), and I wouldn’t have known. I wasn’t sure if he’d been serious in his threat, or if that was just the way Danielle and her friends talked to each other. Danielle had seemed scared of him, but I didn’t know if that was physical fear or a dread of what Vin would tell me. I didn’t even know why Danielle wanted me to talk to Vin, especially when she’d seemed so uncomfortable around him. Vin wanted to tell me about Danielle’s past. I was very interested in Danielle’s past. But I didn’t want to hear it from him.
Vin watched me intensely as I sat across from him in the booth. He had controlled the conversation earlier when Danielle had been with us. Then, I hadn’t been sure how to play it. Since Danielle knew him, I had let her take charge and she had done nothing but take his verbal abuse, but without her now, I actually felt more comfortable. It was kind of a high pressure situation, but I do better with those when I’m not being watched by people I know.
“So you’re Danielle’s new meal ticket,” Vin said to me. He was way too eager to talk about her.
“Do you remember my name?” I asked.
Vin stopped. His smirk remained frozen, and he shook his head.
“It happens all the time,” I said. “It’s kind of frustrating. I’m a quiet guy, so I guess people think I’m forgettable. I’m Jimmy.”
I extended my hand across the table and kept it there. “Are you going to shake it or not?” I said.
Vin slowly clasped my hand and then gripped it too tightly just to show he could. It kind of hurt, but I tried not to show it.
“Since I’m a quiet guy, it takes me a while to warm up to people,” I said, while massaging my hand underneath the table. “I usually don’t talk to people I don’t know.” I paused. “And I don’t know you.”
Vin still smirked, but at least he wasn’t talking.
“Do you like football?” I asked.
Vin frowned and shook his head again, like he was still sizing me up.
“That’s too bad. I like football because that’s how I get to know people,” I said. “I have a bunch of weird hobbies, so it’s tough for me to find common points of interest with other people. But everybody talks about football. That’s the great thing about football, I can talk to a bunch of people that I have nothing in common with.”
Vin’s smirk was gone, replaced with some bizarre sneer that I interpreted as bewilderment.
“It’s funny,” I continued. “The only reason I could talk to Danielle at first was because of football. She was wearing one of her football t-shirts when we met, you know, the ones that are a size too small.”
Vin smirked again. “Yeah, Danielle’s got some nice…” And he finished with a crude remark about one of Danielle’s finer physical attributes. He wasn’t the most subtle guy I’d ever met.
“She was wearing a football t-shirt,” I reminded him. “That meant I could talk to Danielle about football. That was what we had in common. Then, from that, I learned that she liked to read books. And from that, we started dating.” That was a very inaccurate version of how Danielle and I had met, but I figured Vin didn’t deserve to hear the truth.
“She reads books?” Vin said. Then he followed that with an expletive.
“You’re wrong about her,” I said. “She really reads books, real books.”
Vin uttered a couple more expletives to show that he didn’t believe me.
“She finished Sense and Sensibility a couple weeks ago. It’s by the same woman who wrote that.” I pointed to my/her/our copy of Pride and Prejudice on the table.
Vin grunted a couple more words, but now he didn’t seem so certain she didn’t read.
“She’s even read Atlas Shrugged.” That accomplishment would have impressed a lot of people, but it was lost on Vin.
“She reads poetry too,” I said.
Vin shook his head but was silent. I decided to use an example that Vin would appreciate.
“She recites Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton to me while we lie together naked on the balcony.”
That got his interest. Yeah, I was pushing it, but I couldn’t help it. I would never do anything naked in public, but Vin didn’t know that, and he knew that Danielle was the type who would.
Then I decided to go for it. I didn’t know why I was lying to Vin, except that it kept him from talking too much. I’m not usually a good liar, but I can say outlandish stuff in my monotone voice, and people will believe it for a while, until they have time to think about it. It’s one of the few benefits of having a monotone voice.
“You know…Danielle has found God,” I said. “She accepts Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior.”
Vin’s mouth opened wide, and I wasn’t sure if he was stunned or about to call my bluff. He started to speak, probably to say something profane either way, and then he stopped himself.
“I’m back!” Danielle said cheerfully, returning from the restroom. She slid her hand against my shoulder. “You become friends?”
I was almost disappointed. I felt like Vin was just starting to warm up to me. But Danielle’s eyes were no longer red. And she still had her glasses on with her hair pulled back. That was a good sign.
“I invited Vin to go to church with us next Sunday.” I smiled widely as I made eye contact with her.
“It’s too late for him,” Danielle said with no change in her tone.
“What… religion are you?” Vin asked me.
“Episcopalian” Danielle said immediately. I almost did a double-take because we had never talked about this. Then again, she’d been through all my stuff. If she found my porn on the first day (she did), she also would have found the religious stuff (not that the two were anywhere close to each other in the apartment).
“A-pisco-po-what?” Vin exclaimed.
“Catholic-lite,” I said.
“Episcopalians have money,” Danielle said.
I expected Danielle to sit next to me so she could be away from Vin, but she returned to her side of the booth and motioned for Vin to scoot over. He budged a little but not much, and when she sat down, they were close. Their sides touched. They looked comfortable together. Vin smirked again and kept his left arm up so that it was around Danielle’s shoulder, and I eyed the couple in the booth across the room and how they seemed attached as well, and I felt the jealous anger in the pit of my stomach like I had at the Halloween party.
“Honey,” Danielle said, looking at me. She had never called me that before. “Would you please go to the car and get my bag? I have some pictures I wanna show Vin.”
Here she was sitting next to Vin in a booth, and now she wanted me to go to the car. This didn’t feel right.
“You didn’t bring your bag,” I said.
“Yes, I did,” Danielle countered.
“No, you left it at the apartment,” I said. I really didn’t want to go the car and leave them together. And I knew the bag wasn’t in the car. I knew it.
“It’s my bag,” Danielle said with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth. “I know if I brought it or not. Now… would… you… please… go get it!”
I knew her bag wasn’t in the car. She probably knew I didn’t want to leave them together, but she was sending me out anyway. Vin seemed to be enjoying the argument. I figured Danielle would eventually win this dispute anyway, so I turned to Vin and shrugged.
“She’s so confident, even when she’s wrong,” I said.
“It’s in there,” she said, more sweetly this time.
I got up and decided this wasn’t the time for a parting hug or kiss, and I walked slowly to the front of the restaurant toward the parking lot. I turned for one final view of Danielle, and she was staring with her cheese-eating grin at Vin, who was smirking at me. He did a slight wave with his hand over Danielle’s shoulder. I knew Danielle was up to something. Her mood had changed way too much way too quickly for her not to be up to something. I didn’t like the idea of not knowing what she was up to. I wasn’t a fan of Danielle’s “crazy shit,” but I had the feeling that something “crazy” was about to happen.
*****
To be continued in… The Literary Girlfriend: Library Girl .
And to read “The Literary Girlfriend” from the beginning, start here.
ADVICE TO STUDENTS: When you ask for permission to use the restroom, don’t carry a book with you.
My daughter told me this week that she asked her teacher, “Can I go to the bathroom?”
Her teacher said, “I don’t know. Can you?”
Some things never change. 40 years ago, we asked the same question, and our teachers gave the same response. I’m sure 40 years before that, students and teachers did the same thing. I’m sure nothing will change 40 years from now.
One side of me knows that precision in language is important, but another part knows that a teacher has to be kind of a jerk to use the “I don’t know, can you?” response. This isn’t being judgmental. If anybody deserves to be a jerk without being judged, it’s a teacher. I’m sure teachers at some point became tired of explaining the difference between “may” and “can” every time a kid asked to use the can, so this was a short, snide, and sweet way to do it.
Plus, saying, “I don’t know, can you?” really annoys kids. That has to be the main reason why teachers do it. Teachers spend eight hours a day being annoyed by kids (and probably being annoyed by parents and principals too). When teachers have an opportunity to annoy a kid back, they have an obligation to do it. Kids should be annoyed as frequently as possible. Being annoyed by adults builds character. Being annoyed by adults teaches students how to be annoyed by adults once they become adults.
Maybe I’m a lazy parent. When my kids ask me something like, “Can I get on the computer?” I say either “Yes” or “No.” I don’t say, “I don’t know, can you?” I don’t even ask them to phrase the question correctly. Maybe I should teach my kids to be more precise with language, but my parents didn’t teach me to be that precise. They left that up to my teachers. My parents taught me not to use profanity in public (but it was okay to listen to George Carlin albums at home). I think that was the right way to do it. Let the teachers say “I don’t know, can you?” It might be one of the few joys of their day.
Asking a teacher about going to the restroom can be awkward, even without the pressure of phrasing the question properly. In 7th grade, I asked my history teacher if I could use the bathroom (I don’t remember how I phrased it). He looked at the copy of the book I was carrying, Shogun by James Clavell (a really big book), and said, “You gonna take all day?”
I put the book back on my desk and then asked my teacher again. This time, he gave me the hall pass. I learned never to hold a book when asking to use the restroom. I think today that’s called a “teachable moment.” I don’t remember anything else that I learned in that class.
Teachers have been saying “I don’t know, can you?” for generations. I thought that teachers would have come up with some new material over the last 40 years, but I guess it makes sense that they’re still using the classics. Everything is new to a kid. When I was in elementary school, a teacher said, “I was a poet and didn’t know it.” I thought I had a clever teacher. A few years later, I realized he had been a literary thief. Teachers can say stuff like “I don’t know, can you?” and “I’m a poet and didn’t know it” every year and kids will think they’re using fresh material. Teachers already have enough to worry about without trying out unused material on a new generation. I don’t blame them for sticking with what works.
Everybody has had a teacher that said something annoying. What kind of annoying material did your teachers use? What “teachable moments” did you benefit from the most? Have you ever gotten punched out for using the phrase “teachable moment”? What books did you take with you to the restroom? If you’re a teacher, what annoying questions do kids ask? And finally, if some kid asks you, “Can I use the restroom?” how do you respond?
This is a pretty good mystery novel involving a French book seller, but I don’t think Amazon was ever mentioned.
I’m not an expert on French books. I don’t speak or read French, and from what I understand, most French books are written in French, so there’s a pretty good chance that I wouldn’t understand French books if I tried to read them. Then again, I’m American, and we Americans are notorious for not knowing anything that’s not about the United States, so maybe French books are written in English and I don’t know it because I’m an ignorant American.
Even though I don’t read French books, I’m writing about France because the French have an interesting bookselling law that is very different from bookselling laws in the United States. From what I understand, the French only allow a 5% disparity in book prices, which means that Amazon can’t undercut other stores with huge discounts (this law was passed in 1981, before Amazon was even a gleam). Amazon can’t even offer free shipping. No free shipping? Without free shipping, what’s the point?
Supposedly, the French read a lot more than Americans do. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s true. But with this law, I’m also pretty sure that the French spend a lot more per book than Americans do. One of the reasons I like reading is because it’s cheap entertainment. A good book from a used book store is hours of entertainment for virtually free. My best bargain ever was a hardcover copy of Different Seasons for 25 cents. I read the heck out of that book. Yeah, the publishers and authors don’t see a cent of my purchase if I buy a book that cheap, but at least I’m reading.
I am what is called in some parts of the United States a “cheap bastard.” I don’t pay full price for new hardcover books. I don’t even pay half price at used book stores. But if a book is really popular or sounds really intriguing, I might pay 10 or 11 bucks on the e-reader for a digital copy. If the United States ever enacted a law similar to the law in France, I wouldn’t start spending more money on books. I just wouldn’t buy the books covered under the law.
Yes, I have some sympathy for book store owners, but my own self-interests come first.
I like browsing through book stores, but I don’t like paying high prices for books that I see while browsing through book stores. It’s easier to browse through a real book store than it is to browse through an online book store. When I was a kid, I browsed through stores like Walden’s Book and B. Dalton Booksellers (in the malls). These were replaced by giants like Barnes & Noble and Borders. France wants to make sure their small book sellers don’t disappear. I’m glad that France is doing that, but I’m also glad that the United States isn’t. I’m a “cheap bastard,” and I like my cheap books.
A similar law probably won’t happen here anyway (at least not until maybe there’s another presidential administration). President Obama seems to like Amazon, and his Justice department has sued Apple and a bunch of book publishers for colluding against Amazon (I’m not a lawyer, so I probably didn’t phrase that correctly). I’m pretty sure a country that sues book publishers for collusion on book prices won’t then force book stores to… collude on book prices.
I like a lot of things about Amazon. I like reading book samples before deciding whether or not I purchase a book. I like discounted books on the e-reader. I like being able to self-publish digitally for free (it’s a lot easier to do than I thought it would be). When I had a fairly serious neck injury a few years ago, the only way I could hold a book without lots of arm/neck pain was with a Kindle. So I have a bias toward Amazon and e-readers and cheap books. But at the same time, I like browsing through real book stores more than I like browsing online.
But enough about me! How would a law like France’s affect your book reading habits? Do you buy high priced hardcover bestsellers when they come out? Is a 5% discount really a discount? What facts did I (an ignorant American) screw up? Which kind of store do you enjoy browsing through more, traditional or online? What’s the best bargain book you’ve ever bought?
