My mother always used to say whenever I had a piece to spout: "Amy, the world spins on opinions." It was an obscure caveat, reminding me that having an opinion is nothing special.
My mother wanted a daughter who could look at things objectively yet not lose the natural human instinct of subjectivity. She wanted a daughter who could be critical but not in an ad hominem way, more so in a logical manner. And finally she wanted a daughter who wouldn't be afraid to take on something bigger than herself and have the balls (well, in essence) to tell it: screw you, I have something to say. Listen or bugger off.
Clearly, I make Mama Hausen quite proud.
And so I want my blog to be a blog that isn't afraid to "go there." Although, I wish I had more time to blog, to write about my issues and likes and dislike, but between keeping Nigel happy, writing a novel, and work, it can be a little hard to update daily.
I tell you, I envy bloggers who are able to write three or four entries a day; I have a certain respect for these bloggers. I respect them because I know they love doing it -- blogging can become addictive to the point where every little thought that rears its process makes it on the blog.
I aspire to reach that form of blog nirvana.
Meanwhile, I wish there were more sassy book blogs out there; book blogs that aren't afraid to say so-and-so sucks, his books are trifling, overwrought, dopey duds.
With that in mind, I think there's a huge fear of karma in the book world. I believe authors think if they say something not favorable about a "respected author" then it's going to come back to bite them in the (argh...must avoid the cliché) tooti-taati.
But being a sassy blogger doesn't have to be mean-spirited. As long as one doesn't make it personal and stick to the author's work, then being an objectively critical book blogger would be a breath of fresh air in the book blog universe.
Or maybe I haven't blog-shopped enough. Maybe there are quite a few book blogs spinning on opinions; I just have to look.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Book Lovers: Becoming Extinct?
It saddens me that books are dying. And dying the worst kind of death, too -- slow, desperate, and painful. It's becoming harder to chat up a co-worker about Joyce Carol Oates' latest or share musings on The Poisonwood Bible. People are just not reading as much as they used to.
It's easy to see why: with the influx of instantly gratifying things like the Internet, TiVo, DVDs and reality television, it seems curling up with a book is A., too time consuming, and B., old-fashioned. It now feels like people are buying books just to see if said book lives up to its hype. Which is a really bad place for authors and books and readers to be.
I guess I'm upset that fiction sales are declining, and now one has to write about forensics or murder or both in order to register on a best-seller list. Plus, I'm smarting over the numerous articles that keep reminding me that 20,000 is the new million. When back in the day (you choose a date), 20,000 copies sold was considered bomb-status.
I'm sure this decline of books probably started in the '50s, when television swept the land and one could view characters in live action, with the help of a clunky box and an antenna, instead of in a thick, cozy novel.
Being honest: books are a time-consuming product. A reader can't just flop down on the couch and flip to a chapter and say, "Okay, that's enough for the week." A reader wants to continue the story, often staying up to the wee hours of aurora to take in as much as they can about the book. And of course, there's that Book Guilt thing to deal with -- a condition thrust upon us from the young Seuss ages, where we were derogated by our peers if we didn't finish a book. It was as if not finishing a book was some testament to our apparent dumbness, our inability to stay focused or entertained by words on a page (which now is being called ADD, and comes with medication). I fear people just don't want to subject themselves to it. Nor are they willing to shell out $20-$30 on something that takes up their precious time or keeps them from enjoying the latest CSI show.
It irritates me that television shows and movies are now the "new books"; they're condensed offerings at vastly cheaper prices and with a broader appeal. While we book lovers continue to diminish and search desperately for someone to discuss The Rule of Four with.
Books and their lovers are becoming increasingly isolated. And it seems our extinction is damn near imminent.
It's easy to see why: with the influx of instantly gratifying things like the Internet, TiVo, DVDs and reality television, it seems curling up with a book is A., too time consuming, and B., old-fashioned. It now feels like people are buying books just to see if said book lives up to its hype. Which is a really bad place for authors and books and readers to be.
I guess I'm upset that fiction sales are declining, and now one has to write about forensics or murder or both in order to register on a best-seller list. Plus, I'm smarting over the numerous articles that keep reminding me that 20,000 is the new million. When back in the day (you choose a date), 20,000 copies sold was considered bomb-status.
I'm sure this decline of books probably started in the '50s, when television swept the land and one could view characters in live action, with the help of a clunky box and an antenna, instead of in a thick, cozy novel.
Being honest: books are a time-consuming product. A reader can't just flop down on the couch and flip to a chapter and say, "Okay, that's enough for the week." A reader wants to continue the story, often staying up to the wee hours of aurora to take in as much as they can about the book. And of course, there's that Book Guilt thing to deal with -- a condition thrust upon us from the young Seuss ages, where we were derogated by our peers if we didn't finish a book. It was as if not finishing a book was some testament to our apparent dumbness, our inability to stay focused or entertained by words on a page (which now is being called ADD, and comes with medication). I fear people just don't want to subject themselves to it. Nor are they willing to shell out $20-$30 on something that takes up their precious time or keeps them from enjoying the latest CSI show.
It irritates me that television shows and movies are now the "new books"; they're condensed offerings at vastly cheaper prices and with a broader appeal. While we book lovers continue to diminish and search desperately for someone to discuss The Rule of Four with.
Books and their lovers are becoming increasingly isolated. And it seems our extinction is damn near imminent.
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