Ann DeVere, our colleague at Plaza Books called, and I couldn't understand a word she was saying - in fact I thought she was crying. She was, but tears of laughter. As many of us do, she subscribes to several book-related listserves, and on one of them, there was a posting about a new genre. Do you remember that:
Bambi's mom got shot - stage left.
Lassie saved Timmy - eventually.
It was a dark and stormy night...
Nowadays, mothers go through the anguish of divorce and raising autistic children; men face sexuality crises; families are even more disfunctional than ever before and we read all about it; people, especially women, relive the pain of fleeing their native land or the agony of unloving fathers; Stephen King keeps on writing; Oprah is still alive. And trees keep dying so that this stuff can see the light of day, and remind us of how awful things really are, or could be, or might be !
Most of the books in this new genre have a shelf life of about two minutes.
Why ?
Because they're worthless - they do nothing to lift the human spirit - and in fact diminish it considerably.
The genre, according to Ann's reporting : MISERY LIT !
On this, the 235th anniversary of our nation's birth, please declare your independence from crap books. And the people who write and flog them !
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