U: 10/7/02

Work Diary, 10/7/02

I recently finished a Jonathan Kellerman book called "Flesh and Blood."
My friend loaned it to me; I took it because I wanted a reprieve from
the actual novels I'd been reading. "Flesh and Blood" lives up to its
title: Predictable, full of cliches, just screaming to be turned into a
Hollywood screenplay. The story contains the obligatory sex scenes that
male authors are so fond of including in their work, with such
titillating lines as, "She was wet when I entered her." Mr. Kellerman
is a best-selling author - not surprising when one considers the
general public. His publishers keep the margins wide, the print large,
and the plot paramount. I'd like to say it was a guilty pleasure to
read "Flesh and Blood," but unfortunately that would be an insult to
Stephen King, People Magazine, and Tina Brown (and whatever she's
editing at the moment).

Much like the discrepancy between a CEO's salary and that of, say, a
customer service clerk, it bugs me that truly remarkable writing plays
second fiddle to the likes of Jonathan Kellerman. The publishing
industry is so keen to appeal to the lowest possible denominator that
true genius gets lost in the financial shuffle. Why is Mr. Kellerman a
millionaire when the next Maya Angelou is quitting school so she can
work and make ends meet?

This is not a new argument, of course. Money talks - publishers pay a
lot to push the auteur du jour, and so will you. Still, I am able to
walk into my neighborhood bookstore and pick up some great new
contemporary fiction, obscure or not. I belong to a writing group that
will surely produce one novelist in the next five years; I know what
"paying your dues" entails. So, why my heavily sarcastic diatribe
against Jonathan Kellerman (besides him being an easy target)?

Admittedly, some of it's jealousy. I say "some" because I am a novice
who writes each day and who's still learning. I'm not going to beat
myself up because I haven't been published (naturally, I'll be singing
a different tune in ten years or so). But part of that jealousy is the
straight-A student in me who watched some toilet-trained gorilla in
high school receive all the adulation because he scored a touchdown.
It's just so?unfair.

To be fair, however - and before I continue - I should say Jonathan
Kellerman is not so much simian as he is simplistic. There's a
difference.

Books like "Flesh and Blood" are the homogenized milk of literature.
They give credence to the belief that "it's all been done before,"
going beyond mere formulaic writing and relying on the reader's
laziness. I'm not proposing that we become Big Brother and dictate the
reading tastes of the public; rather, I'm suggesting that a good,
home-cooked meal might taste better than McDonald's.

I'd also like to see our lesser-known-but-still-fabulous authors get a
chance to take a dip from the corporate coffers. Alas, the platinum
best-sellers have become corporations in and of themselves, and we
already know what corporations are all about.

Foolish ruminations that will never come to pass, you say? Then
consider this:

"Ideas must work through the brains and arms of men, or they are no
better than
dreams." - Ralph Waldo Emerson.

In more practical terms: Don't fork over cash for pure schlock; openly
criticize the mediocre; remember: fame does not a writer make; search
out the less publicized; and above all, avoid the fast food drive-thru
window at the corporate mega-bookstore (with 6,329 convenient locations
near you!).