Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Already I'm missing the 70F+ days. Ah, well. At least there's a little green and a lot of flowers. And the warmth should be back soon. Hemingway, remember?
Speaking of Silk, this is my favorite stupid Amazon.com "review" of the last couple of months:
I really don't understand what all the fuss is about. While there were definitely some well written passages in the book, but [sic] I found the oddball literary style and freakish sentence structure to be tedious and distracting. I struggled just to reach the end of the book.
"Oddball" and "freakish." Do people just not care when they're making themselves look like idiots, or are they such complete idiots that they don't know that they're doing it? Reason #331 I often wish I were something other than a writer: illiterate readers. And yes, I will go so far as to suggest that any reader who found the style in which Silk was written to be "freakish" and "oddball," or who had to "struggle" to finish it, is, in fact, illiterate. Maybe "ignorant" would perhaps be a more appropriate word. Anyway, these are not the sorts of people for whom I'm writing books, so it's really neither here nor there.
Last night, Spooky and I watched Cold Creek Manor, which was, in every sense, exceptionally so-so and more than a little forgettable. Sharon Stone sleep walks through her performance. Randy Quaid tries, but there's not much here to work with. Your standard city-folks-get-menaced-by-scary-country-trash neoGothic thriller. Stephen Dorff spends the whole film trying to be Brad Pitt. Juliette Lewis seems to serve no purpose at all. The screenplay meanders and never manages to go anywhere in particular. It's formulaic and therefore extremely predictable. There are a few disturbing shots, a hint of suspense here and there, but this is one of those films that I'm really glad I didn't pay theatre prices to see.
Jennifer's dissertating continues, with much ado about T.S. Eliot and the Gothic and beatification.
I suppose I should get to work...
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