Yesterday, I wrote 1,353 words on Red Delicious. It's the first time I'd written anything on the book since April 13th. That's a lot of wasted time.
Having just read through The Drowning Girl: A Memoir again, I'm a bit more prickly about idiotic remarks than usual. I don't mean remarks by people who had thoughtful, considered reasons for disliking the novel. It's not for everyone. Nothing is. I mean idiotic remarks. To wit, from Amazon:
This book goes nowhere, and stays there. It is boring and goes on and on about nothing. I was excited when I saw the plot but very disappointed when I started reading the story. ("Felineflirt"*; April 17, 2013)
– and –
Boring!! Stupid!! How many times can you repeat the same thing? Over and over again, page after page. I only finished reading it because I belong to a book club and we chose it. Probably the worse [sic] book ever! There was no actual real plot or subsdtance to it. Sorry - but it was horrible!! (Saundra Barrett; April 22, 2013)
Yeah. See, those are not thoughtful, considered "reviews" by intelligent, articulate people. Those are to literary commentary what baby vomit is to haute cuisine. It's spatters of words coughed up by people who barely know how to read, much less write, much less write coherently about what they've read. And really, that's what this is all about: Reading comprehension. Okay, well, that and an openness to texts that move beyond fireside A-Z narratives. And I say "Fuck them." I learned to write reading William Faulkner, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, Gertrude Stein, Joseph Heller, Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., William Blake, T. S. Eliot, Philip K. Dick, William S. Burroughs, Angela Carter, J. G. Ballard, and a hundred other authors that I'm sure "felineflirt" and Saundra Barrett would find "boring" and "stupid." Because they are what another brilliant literary mentor of mine, Harlan Ellison, calls "scuttlefish." They want pablum. They want to "know what happened." When they can't puzzle it out, they publicly spew twaddle. And, truly, I wish to fuck they wouldn't read what I write. If a book makes you feel stupid, go back to school. When I read something I clearly do not understand, it's almost always my failing, not that of the book's author.
Oh, good morning. How are you lot?
Selwyn has a cold, and Spooky's taking him to the vet today.
The best things about yesterday, honestly, were Ben and Jerry's cannoli ice cream, Vicodin, and the last two episodes of Season Four of Nurse Jackie. Most of the rest of the day can fuck off and die a screaming, unspeakably painful death.
Along with the screaming inside my head.
Into a World That You May Not Remember,
*Gotta be a "Neko."