Freb: So much chatter all over the Internet lately about dark fantasy. Some can't even agree on the definition of dark. Like that book on your shelf there, praised as being so dark. I found it emotionally adolescent in spite of all the hard R kinky sex and torture
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I've always been torn between reading Lit Rah Tchoor (books that are good for you, high art, and all that such) and Comfort Reading (sci fi, fantasy, cozies, and such). Why must we feel guilty about the latter? I suffered through "Portrait of a Lady", because an ex of mine (then my current), thought I should read it. He was, it turned out, trying to Improve My Taste. And me. He'd have done better to simply read a good Agatha Christie and come on down to my level. Fun's fun.
I've never been one for tortured souls and bodies. And, it isn't new: De Sade did it centuries ago.
I've never been one for any kind of violence in literature in games or in reading or in film. Steven King and the like leave me pretty damn cold.
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Fred: That isn’t sufficient excuse not to be trying.
Y'know? Fred has a real problem with wanting to qualify other people's goals for them. Who's gonna punish those Bad Writers who would rather write what they do best, even if it is "adolescent"?
Also, I think I sorta resent the implied judgment here: That writers who are writing books that Fred doesn't approve of somehow aren't trying hard enough; that if they really did just try they could write books that he does approve of.
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I totally agree. And I'll add that I'm impatient with people who try to elevate Reading to a higher level than all other leisure pursuits. It can be, but I'm very uncomfortable with the snobbery implicit in the idea that people who read are somehow better than people who don't, or that people wh read Good Books are superior to people who read Sidney Sheldon ( ... )
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(My own opinion is that if you want spiritual uplift, go to church on Sunday or to synagogue on Saturday or to sabbats on the quarter-days -- or if theism doesn't float your boat, go read Sartre at the public library on whatever day of the week makes you happy -- but don't force art and literature into the job of providing the sort of juice that more properly comes from religion and philosophy.)
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Annoying as heck, agreed. But how much work is it reasonable to expect readers to do to get to the enjoyment ? There's an upper bound, definitely, but I do not think it's fair to demand that everything written be utterly transparent - it would deny a great part of the enjoyment value of books that unfold and do subtle things of which more shows up with every rereading, for one. The Dragon Waiting is what I think of when I think of this.
if you want spiritual uplift, go to church on Sunday or to synagogue on Saturday or to sabbats on the quarter-days -- or if theism doesn't float your boat, go read Sartre at the public library on whatever day of the week makes you happy -- but don't force art and literature into the job of providing the sort of juice that more properly comes from religion and philosophy.
Not force it, but if you have a decent story that wants to go in that direction, not preclude it either I hope.
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Before we were told what to read (and why we should) as outlined by the cannon and those who created it, people actually read so-called "deep" literary works for pleasure. But once the academics got their slimy hands on literature they made sure we read only what's "good" for us.
Literature isn't just for the academics, or the elite of society, and the sooner they learn that the better off we'll all be.
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On a less serious note, Fred seems to think of adolescence as something you outgrow, rather than incorporate. One of my favorite short stories, by Sandra Cisneros, talks about how your younger selves live inside you like layers of an onion -- when you're eleven, you're also ten and nine and six and five, and sometimes even when you're a big girl, you need to crawl into your mother's lap for a hug. This is what I feel about the desires indulged by lots of fiction, whether or not they're my desires.
I am uncomfortable with the idea that reading should be an obligation and not a pleasure.
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I have a feeling that the range between people whose memories work like trees laying down rings and people whose memories work like shedding skins is yet another range of human variation that falls on a normal curve. I'm definitely towards the shedding skins end when it comes to emotional realities - I do not have any way into the head of myself at five or ten or eleven, or for that matter twenty-one. [ Of course, the problem with trying to write characters like this strikes me as being that there aren't really many people who will shed skins over the amount of time necessary to read a novel, so I can see great difficultes with making that convincing. ]
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So why is Fred so defensive? I feel like there must be something here that I don't see.
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Fred was not defensive so much as thinking aloud, working toward some kind of conclusion on the subject.
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