Some books are best left forgotten…
It’s hard to remember bad novels because good ones make such a lasting impression that they thankfully obliterate the memory of the poor ones. The only impact the poor ones make are on the sides of recycling bins.
I’m not going to name (m) any names, after all, I’m a novelist. I know how much goes into writing a book. For some writers real life is just noise in the background; simply material with which to mold stories and tricky plot knots.
To be fair it’s all a matter of taste. To some people, my debut novel the Life Assistance Agency is a glorious collision of the Blues Brothers meets Da-Vinci Code, while others think it’s really good. The clearest sign that a book is rubbish is when you’re accompanying the reading with sighing sounds. Pages are turned with the sort of dread familiar to anyone who has to take young children swimming later in the day*. I’m pleased no one has yet compared this with mine.
There was a time when I felt obliged, in accordance with some unwritten code rumored to exist atop Himalayan mountains, to finish any book I picked up. I’ve been more loyal to books I dislike than friends I like. This once meant trawling my way through The 91 principles of Cataloging when I mistakenly held it for someone while they jumped off a bridge. To be fair it was a textbook. Mind you, even that’s preferable to Morrissey’s novel List of the Lost, which somehow exceeded his own autobiography in verbosity, and made sex sound like the sort of substance found stuffing Victorian cushions.
It’s always awkward when friends recommend a book that it turns out to be less readable than a doorstop. (BTW Alan, thankfully I’m currently enjoying A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman!). You sometimes return a book with a vague nod at having enjoyed it, praying that they don’t press you for enlightening thoughts on what happened at any point beyond page 32.
It’s hard to be objective; one man’s If on a Winter’s night a traveler by Italo Calvino is another’s 50 shades of Grey, and to be honest, it’s hard to slag off books when it’s admirable to find people still actually reading and not scrolling through anodyne updates on social media. However, the idea of reading another novel encompassing cross-generation Irish families with hidden secrets makes me want to suggest taking the kids’ swimming.
Bigger targets are the easiest to hit, and the aforementioned Dan Brown’s Da-Vinci Code really is unreadable to anyone who likes English, sentences, and words. One of the best examples of him failing to capture an instantly recognizable human experience is:
He could taste the familiar tang of museum air – an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon – the product of industrial, coal-filter dehumidifiers that ran around the clock to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.
Although, perhaps if most people walk into museums, sniff the air and think ‘is that the arid, deionized essence carrying a faint hint of carbon?’ or ‘how corrosive is my breath exactly?’ then I’ve been kept in the dark. Or rather, the night-long gloom that envelopes sentient beings with an inability to envision where they might be traversing in the dim blackness, as Dan Brown might put it.
It was at the museum point that I decided I had better things to do than follow Robert Langdon running through corridors and libraries, and thought I’d do something else. Like anything. Even DIY, or glossing. It’s so bad that even Ron Howard and Tom Hanks couldn’t make a watchable film of it. The book I mean, not my glossing.
Perhaps its sensible to get in with preemptive attacks, like Daniel Pitts’ book called The Most Boring Book Ever Written, which almost demands critics to argue otherwise. And the critics are baffling. The Evening Standard described Hanif Kureshi’s The Last Word as ‘brilliantly funny’. Now, I’m aware that daily reporting of London stabbings must cloud your judgment, but it must’ve been a very quiet day in the office for the self-absorbed protagonist, who changes characteristics quicker than you can keep up with them, to be described as brilliant, much less funny. Mind you, Kureshi might think I’m lucky to have my novel beside his, and he’d probably be right.
—
The Good Men Project is different from most media companies. We are a “participatory media company”—which means we don’t just have content you read and share and comment on but it means we have multiple ways you can actively be a part of the conversation. As you become a deeper part of the conversation—The Conversation No One Else is Having—you will learn all of the ways we support our Writers’ Community—community FB groups, weekly conference calls, classes in writing, editing platform building and How to Create Social Change.
◊♦◊
Here are more ways to become a part of The Good Men Project community:
Request to join our private Facebook Group for Writers—it’s like our virtual newsroom where you connect with editors and other writers about issues and ideas.
Click here to become a Premium Member of The Good Men Project Community. Have access to these benefits:
- Get access to an exclusive “Members Only” Group on Facebook
- Join our Social Interest Groups—weekly calls about topics of interest in today’s world
- View the website with no ads
- Get free access to classes, workshops, and exclusive events
- Be invited to an exclusive weekly “Call with the Publisher” with other Premium Members
- Commenting badge.
Are you stuck on what to write? Sign up for our Writing Prompts emails, you’ll get ideas directly from our editors every Monday and Thursday. If you already have a final draft, then click below to send your post through our submission system.
If you are already working with an editor at GMP, please be sure to name that person. If you are not currently working with a GMP editor, one will be assigned to you.
◊♦◊
Are you a first-time contributor to The Good Men Project? Submit here:
◊♦◊
Have you contributed before and have a Submittable account? Use our Quick Submit link here:
◊♦◊
Do you have previously published work that you would like to syndicate on The Good Men Project? Click here:
Join our exclusive weekly “Call with the Publisher” — where community members are encouraged to discuss the issues of the week, get story ideas, meet other members and get known for their ideas? To get the call-in information, either join as a member or wait until you get a post published with us. Here are some examples of what we talk about on the calls.
Want to learn practical skills about how to be a better Writer, Editor or Platform Builder? Want to be a Rising Star in Media? Want to learn how to Create Social Change? We have classes in all of those areas.
While you’re at it, get connected with our social media:
- To join our Facebook Page, go here.
- To sign up for our email newsletter, go here.
- To follow The Good Men Project on Twitter, go here.
◊♦◊
However, you engage with The Good Men Project—you can help lead this conversation about the changing roles of men in the 21st century. Join us!
◊♦◊
We have pioneered the largest worldwide conversation about what it means to be a good man in the 21st century. Your support of our work is inspiring and invaluable.
The Good Men Project is an Amazon.com affiliate. If you shop via THIS LINK, we will get a small commission and you will be supporting our Mission while still getting the quality products you would have purchased, anyway! Thank you for your continued support!
—
Originally published on Idle blogs of an idle fellow
—
Photo by Christin Hume on Unsplash