A clod of clay
Upon my cleat
I must remove it
I must be neat
As I discard it
Upon the street
A funeral procession
Do I meet
Oh my word!
Who goes there?
Oh my word?
What do I care?
I have another round
Of golf to play
I'll think about death
Some other day
But the crowd of mourners
Goes on and on
The crowd of mourners
Goes hither and yon
And I am forced to wait
Until they pass
I am forced to wait
Upon this grass
And as I do
I tap my shoe
I twirl my club
I fix my 'do
I even pivot
To fix a divot
And as I bend down--
I see myself--
Beneath the ground
I am beneath the ground and I can't get up
I am beneath the ground and I can't get up
I am beneath the ground and I can't get up
But look!
Pushing through the earth--
There grows a brand new blade of grass!
Kevin Glavin, November 2010
(All apologies John Donne:)
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Hullabaloo and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Hi All,
(This post and the thread it relates to can be found on KindleBoards:)
... So funny you mention the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Hadn't thought of that, but you're right.
(This is a fantastic yearly contest for bad writing. Check it out for a laugh: http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/)
My intention with starting this thread was not to start an argument. It was to try and understand how such a poorly edited book became a bestseller. The novel has a lot of potential--I'll agree with that. I’m just trying to understand how people were able to tolerate the poor writing for the sake of the plot and Lisbeth. Didn’t the accumulation of lackluster diction and syntax bother those who liked the book, at least a little bit? It seems somewhat telling that the translator of the series appears to have used a pseudonym as he was unhappy with the editing job that someone in Scotland did. It seems that even he wished that it had been edited in a more professional manner.
The CSI analogy I made a while back was just that—an analogy. If you like, consider instead any number of literary analogies—Hemingway, Shakespeare, Marquez, Salinger, Plath, whomever. Even Tolstoy, who could go on forever, had a reason behind most of his tangents and epilogues. Most writers who stand the test of time were ruthless redactors, or had ruthless editors, and had many arguments with them over what to leave in and what to leave out. I would say that the process of revision should apply even more in books than in the TV business. Less is more. Every word should count. A writer should show some consciousness of craft behind every decision. I understand wanting to show imagery and description and detail. I can understand a lot of unorthodox choices if there is an intention behind them. But to repeatedly focus on the rising and falling temperature, as I mentioned earlier, doesn't add to the reader's experience. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, one of the masters of the detective story, might describe the weather outside to create atmosphere, but he wouldn't do it over and over again unless it were linked to the solving of the crime itself.
On the other hand, to be fair, perhaps Larsson would indeed have made more redactions had he lived longer. But that duty fell to the editor/publisher since they are now selling the work, and they failed to perform basic and necessary revisions. Perhaps they could have
sold even more books, or received greater accolades if they had done so.
Finally, I spoke of art in my last post. I realize we can’t only dedicate our free time to the appreciation of “art.” Although that may be the ideal, I understand that we all need other forms of entertainment. That’s what I was hoping from in this book, and unfortunately, I feel like I didn't get my money's worth. Oh well.
I just went to the library today and checked out an odd assortment of books: A Study in Scarlet/Hound of the Baskervilles (Doyle);
Double Cross (Patterson); The Dante Club (Pearl); and tinkers (Harding). Maybe I can lose myself in these and forget about my disappointment with Dragon.
Thanks for all the intriguing discussion. Wishing you happy reading.
Sincerely,
Kevin
(This post and the thread it relates to can be found on KindleBoards:)
... So funny you mention the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Hadn't thought of that, but you're right.
(This is a fantastic yearly contest for bad writing. Check it out for a laugh: http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/)
My intention with starting this thread was not to start an argument. It was to try and understand how such a poorly edited book became a bestseller. The novel has a lot of potential--I'll agree with that. I’m just trying to understand how people were able to tolerate the poor writing for the sake of the plot and Lisbeth. Didn’t the accumulation of lackluster diction and syntax bother those who liked the book, at least a little bit? It seems somewhat telling that the translator of the series appears to have used a pseudonym as he was unhappy with the editing job that someone in Scotland did. It seems that even he wished that it had been edited in a more professional manner.
The CSI analogy I made a while back was just that—an analogy. If you like, consider instead any number of literary analogies—Hemingway, Shakespeare, Marquez, Salinger, Plath, whomever. Even Tolstoy, who could go on forever, had a reason behind most of his tangents and epilogues. Most writers who stand the test of time were ruthless redactors, or had ruthless editors, and had many arguments with them over what to leave in and what to leave out. I would say that the process of revision should apply even more in books than in the TV business. Less is more. Every word should count. A writer should show some consciousness of craft behind every decision. I understand wanting to show imagery and description and detail. I can understand a lot of unorthodox choices if there is an intention behind them. But to repeatedly focus on the rising and falling temperature, as I mentioned earlier, doesn't add to the reader's experience. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, one of the masters of the detective story, might describe the weather outside to create atmosphere, but he wouldn't do it over and over again unless it were linked to the solving of the crime itself.
On the other hand, to be fair, perhaps Larsson would indeed have made more redactions had he lived longer. But that duty fell to the editor/publisher since they are now selling the work, and they failed to perform basic and necessary revisions. Perhaps they could have
sold even more books, or received greater accolades if they had done so.
Finally, I spoke of art in my last post. I realize we can’t only dedicate our free time to the appreciation of “art.” Although that may be the ideal, I understand that we all need other forms of entertainment. That’s what I was hoping from in this book, and unfortunately, I feel like I didn't get my money's worth. Oh well.
I just went to the library today and checked out an odd assortment of books: A Study in Scarlet/Hound of the Baskervilles (Doyle);
Double Cross (Patterson); The Dante Club (Pearl); and tinkers (Harding). Maybe I can lose myself in these and forget about my disappointment with Dragon.
Thanks for all the intriguing discussion. Wishing you happy reading.
Sincerely,
Kevin
Monday, November 8, 2010
Dragon Follow-Up
Hi All,
Thanks for your many comments—they were much appreciated.
Let me say that I did not mean to offend anyone. My original question and review regarding how this poorly written book (in my humble opinion) became a bestseller was posted out of utter bafflement, in an honest search for a real answer.
As I stated, I know I’m in the minority. I know most people like this book, or that it at least averages a four out of five stars on Amazon. I just don’t understand why.
While I mentioned how the marketing campaign behind this thriller has been phenomenal, I feel that the book’s blockbuster status can’t be attributed to that alone. To be sure, there are many books and films that get much marketing and aren’t nearly as successful. Inversely, there are some very high quality books and films that get comparably little marketing, go on to win Pulitzer Prizes or Academy Awards, but don’t make much money. Why? Which type of success is better?
Maybe it has to do with appeal. New York publishers and Hollywood studios try and find the widest possible way to appeal to a target audience to maximize profits. In doing so, they craft their product likewise. Consider what has been one of the top rated TV shows in recent times––the CSI series. I enjoy it myself. If a large audience like this one is what Dragon is aiming at (and I’m not saying it is), it still has an obligation to produce a well written product, just like CSI produces a top-notch show (the old Vegas episodes are my favorite). But in my estimation, it’s as if the Dragon book is still in pre-production.
For instance, if an episode of CSI focused on the heroine admiring someone’s use of PhotoShop (which really has nothing to do with her hacking ability), or kept zooming back to the image of a thermometer rising and falling, you would expect those details to be relevant, and would pay particular attention to how they fit in. But so many expository details in Dragon don’t fit in. You would never see footage like this on CSI (okay, enough with the analogy, Kevin), because the writers on there are good enough, and the producers astute enough, to cut out what doesn’t belong. Likewise, this is what the editors of this book should have done. It is precisely irrelevant details like those mentioned in my review (and there are many, many more throughout the novel) that weigh the book down, causing the reader’s journey to become like walking through thick mud. Why does the author/publisher throw these encumbrances upon the reader’s path? A writer/publisher has the job of making sure that every word counts, that every word adds to the whole, and perhaps even beyond into the land of meaningful allusions. It is their obligation to put out a satisfactory product, made to the best of their ability.
I bought the Dragon book, and in exchange for that, should have, while not expecting literature, at least have gotten the roller coaster ride that it was hyped up to be. Instead, my car jerked and stopped along the way by the inept mechanics (opening lines: “It happened every year, was almost a ritual. And this was his eighty-second birthday” (p. 3). I know allowances can be made for stylistic purposes, but it goes on and on. I think it is mere laziness on the editor’s part.) and superfluous prose that cluttered the tracks. The book also consistently breaks one of the first rules of fiction writing—show, don’t tell (“Salander could see that Blomkvist was a fine writer” (p. 101). “She was out of work and hungry” (p. 270). “His time at Rullaker had been unstressful and pleasant enough” (275). “Salander was an information junkie with a delinquent child’s take on morals and ethics” (p. 384)).
As I said in my review, originally I could barely make it to page 202. That is a long way to read without enjoyment. And that’s when I began writing my commentary, figuring by that point it was fair to extrapolate that there was something wrong with the ride.
After several weeks, I forced myself to finish the book, and as I said, the writing did not improve, at least not for me. I can understand how many readers like the plot––I thought it picked up (except towards the end, where after the mystery is solved it goes into corporate intrigue at the Millennium magazine, and revenge on Blomkvist’s rival Wennerstrom, with lots of humdrum emails back and forth. I know this plotline brings the book full circle, but for me the suspense had already gone out of the balloon.) Also, I really did like the character of Lisbeth, and was rooting for her all the way (Blomkvist, however, struck me as a bit too snarky, and somewhat of an egotist and womanizer).
While the plot and the character of Lisbeth are the most appealing elements of this book, the sloppy writing interfered way too much for me to enjoy these aspects. Perhaps my job as a literature teacher has instilled in me very little patience for poorly written prose, especially when there is no reason why an editor could not have been paid big bucks to make the work more readable. Caveat emptor, I know. I know that Dragon was not marketed as literature. Still, it should have been written fluently enough to make it worth the money I paid. But it wasn’t, and after my experience at Costco, I thought others who might be tempted to buy the book based on hype (as I was) should perhaps reconsider.
This leads back to my original question, which is still, at least for me, not fully answered. Why are so many people buying this book as they shop in line for groceries or run to catch their plane? Yes, people are influenced by the fantastic marketing, but that doesn’t explain the sensation. And yes, perhaps it’s also word of mouth. Or perhaps it’s something akin to Gladwell’s idea of the tipping point. In any case, it would make a really intriguing study, more intriguing to me than the book itself.
I know what I’m stating is simply my opinion, and again, I don’t mean to offend anyone. But I do believe that while “art” does have a degree of subjectivity, it also has an objective standard by which it can be judged. I could put up that popular poster of dogs playing poker on black velvet, but does it make it “art?” I don’t think that even the most enthusiastic supporters of Dragon would argue that it is great art. So why waste time on it? Why should one more person succumb to the hype? There is so much great work out there, so many great books to read from across the centuries and from around the world. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to give our precious time to only great art? (But this is a discussion for another thread.)
I know, I know, sometimes we just need to chill. But this book put me in the deep freeze. Maybe I would enjoy the movie more. Or maybe I should watch a Bergman film instead (one review on the back of the book compares it to the “movies of Ingmar Bergman…” I see little connection with the great filmmaker, other than the setting in Sweden.)
Anyway, thanks for putting up with my venting
Any other thoughts?
Kevin
Thanks for your many comments—they were much appreciated.
Let me say that I did not mean to offend anyone. My original question and review regarding how this poorly written book (in my humble opinion) became a bestseller was posted out of utter bafflement, in an honest search for a real answer.
As I stated, I know I’m in the minority. I know most people like this book, or that it at least averages a four out of five stars on Amazon. I just don’t understand why.
While I mentioned how the marketing campaign behind this thriller has been phenomenal, I feel that the book’s blockbuster status can’t be attributed to that alone. To be sure, there are many books and films that get much marketing and aren’t nearly as successful. Inversely, there are some very high quality books and films that get comparably little marketing, go on to win Pulitzer Prizes or Academy Awards, but don’t make much money. Why? Which type of success is better?
Maybe it has to do with appeal. New York publishers and Hollywood studios try and find the widest possible way to appeal to a target audience to maximize profits. In doing so, they craft their product likewise. Consider what has been one of the top rated TV shows in recent times––the CSI series. I enjoy it myself. If a large audience like this one is what Dragon is aiming at (and I’m not saying it is), it still has an obligation to produce a well written product, just like CSI produces a top-notch show (the old Vegas episodes are my favorite). But in my estimation, it’s as if the Dragon book is still in pre-production.
For instance, if an episode of CSI focused on the heroine admiring someone’s use of PhotoShop (which really has nothing to do with her hacking ability), or kept zooming back to the image of a thermometer rising and falling, you would expect those details to be relevant, and would pay particular attention to how they fit in. But so many expository details in Dragon don’t fit in. You would never see footage like this on CSI (okay, enough with the analogy, Kevin), because the writers on there are good enough, and the producers astute enough, to cut out what doesn’t belong. Likewise, this is what the editors of this book should have done. It is precisely irrelevant details like those mentioned in my review (and there are many, many more throughout the novel) that weigh the book down, causing the reader’s journey to become like walking through thick mud. Why does the author/publisher throw these encumbrances upon the reader’s path? A writer/publisher has the job of making sure that every word counts, that every word adds to the whole, and perhaps even beyond into the land of meaningful allusions. It is their obligation to put out a satisfactory product, made to the best of their ability.
I bought the Dragon book, and in exchange for that, should have, while not expecting literature, at least have gotten the roller coaster ride that it was hyped up to be. Instead, my car jerked and stopped along the way by the inept mechanics (opening lines: “It happened every year, was almost a ritual. And this was his eighty-second birthday” (p. 3). I know allowances can be made for stylistic purposes, but it goes on and on. I think it is mere laziness on the editor’s part.) and superfluous prose that cluttered the tracks. The book also consistently breaks one of the first rules of fiction writing—show, don’t tell (“Salander could see that Blomkvist was a fine writer” (p. 101). “She was out of work and hungry” (p. 270). “His time at Rullaker had been unstressful and pleasant enough” (275). “Salander was an information junkie with a delinquent child’s take on morals and ethics” (p. 384)).
As I said in my review, originally I could barely make it to page 202. That is a long way to read without enjoyment. And that’s when I began writing my commentary, figuring by that point it was fair to extrapolate that there was something wrong with the ride.
After several weeks, I forced myself to finish the book, and as I said, the writing did not improve, at least not for me. I can understand how many readers like the plot––I thought it picked up (except towards the end, where after the mystery is solved it goes into corporate intrigue at the Millennium magazine, and revenge on Blomkvist’s rival Wennerstrom, with lots of humdrum emails back and forth. I know this plotline brings the book full circle, but for me the suspense had already gone out of the balloon.) Also, I really did like the character of Lisbeth, and was rooting for her all the way (Blomkvist, however, struck me as a bit too snarky, and somewhat of an egotist and womanizer).
While the plot and the character of Lisbeth are the most appealing elements of this book, the sloppy writing interfered way too much for me to enjoy these aspects. Perhaps my job as a literature teacher has instilled in me very little patience for poorly written prose, especially when there is no reason why an editor could not have been paid big bucks to make the work more readable. Caveat emptor, I know. I know that Dragon was not marketed as literature. Still, it should have been written fluently enough to make it worth the money I paid. But it wasn’t, and after my experience at Costco, I thought others who might be tempted to buy the book based on hype (as I was) should perhaps reconsider.
This leads back to my original question, which is still, at least for me, not fully answered. Why are so many people buying this book as they shop in line for groceries or run to catch their plane? Yes, people are influenced by the fantastic marketing, but that doesn’t explain the sensation. And yes, perhaps it’s also word of mouth. Or perhaps it’s something akin to Gladwell’s idea of the tipping point. In any case, it would make a really intriguing study, more intriguing to me than the book itself.
I know what I’m stating is simply my opinion, and again, I don’t mean to offend anyone. But I do believe that while “art” does have a degree of subjectivity, it also has an objective standard by which it can be judged. I could put up that popular poster of dogs playing poker on black velvet, but does it make it “art?” I don’t think that even the most enthusiastic supporters of Dragon would argue that it is great art. So why waste time on it? Why should one more person succumb to the hype? There is so much great work out there, so many great books to read from across the centuries and from around the world. Don’t we owe it to ourselves to give our precious time to only great art? (But this is a discussion for another thread.)
I know, I know, sometimes we just need to chill. But this book put me in the deep freeze. Maybe I would enjoy the movie more. Or maybe I should watch a Bergman film instead (one review on the back of the book compares it to the “movies of Ingmar Bergman…” I see little connection with the great filmmaker, other than the setting in Sweden.)
Anyway, thanks for putting up with my venting
Any other thoughts?Kevin
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