I'm sure we've all had those times when some ignorant film maker slaughters our favourite book, then turns around and expects us to enjoy it - all while revelling in the fame of a box-office success. How is this fair? Why does the rest of the world have no taste? I would really like to know the answers. I have spent many an unsatisfying film session pondering what exactly it is that makes a film a good adaptation, and can even provide pertinent examples.
Some people have hard-and-fast rules: 'The book version is always better.' 'The movie version is always better.' 'Movie versions of action films are always better because they have more impact.' and so on. Some people refuse (as a general rule) to see the movie of a book or read the book of a movie, saying it will 'spoil it'.
I find it difficult to be so black and white. For one thing, despite my many unsatisfying cinema-going experiences, I am usually too curious to resist (with a few notable exceptions). Also I am not stubborn enough to resist an invitation from someone I want to go out with. (Hence why I saw Sex and the City the other day, and - surprisingly enough - enjoyed it!) But also I don't watch a great deal of film or television. Books will always hold the first place in my heart. I think this is because they offer so much more scope for the imagination. Also it's less bother. Borrowing books from the library or buying them second-hand has become second nature to me (I love my yearly pilgrimages to Borders to spend my birthday book vouchers too), but hiring a movie or going to the cinema or even setting up the video to record something on TV takes so much more effort.
My two favourite adaptations would have to be Atonement and The Virgin Suicides, both based on excellent books that I should really reread. In my mind they both captured the atmosphere which was so strong in both those books - the soporific heat of summer in Atonement and the cloying humidity of The Virgin Suicides. Even Keira Knightley didn't stuff things up, which was RATHER impressive.
I also like Lord of the Rings and The Golden Compass was quite good too. Lord of the Rings captured the epic quest spirit of the book and The Golden Compass was pretty good - though I can't now remember why. I think I was mainly just glad it wasn't another Harry Potter. Oh yes, I also liked The Da Vinci Code. It was much less annoying than the book. And Audrey Tautou was in it (speaking English with an adorable accent no less).
The ultimate of really bad adaptations, for me, is Harry Potter. Nothing matched the way I had imagined it, which pissed me off, but usually doesn't bother me as long as the alternative is good. In this case, however, the alternative was a piece of crap. Very few of the actors could act or were well-cast (Alan Rickman and the Hagrid guy being notable exceptions). In the third movie especially (I think that's the last one I've seen, though I seem to recall falling asleep during a later one), the characters seemed to slip frequently into lord-of-the-typical-medieval-traditional-fantasy-style syntax and vocabulary. This is NOT Harry Potter. Part of HP's genius and success is that it's about ordinary teenagers being placed in an extraordinary situation. Very few situations are extraordinary enough to make a fourteen-year-old speak like a Shakespeare wannabe.
Some films, though, are patently better than the book. I read The Notebook before I saw the film and thought it was the biggest piece of shit I'd ever laid eyes on. I didn't think the movie was great shakes either, but it was far, far better than the book.
Some films leave me feeling like I don't particularly want to read the book. The Bourne Ultimatum had enough for me, as did The Constant Gardener. And so you see that the extent of my film-watching experience is rather limited.
What makes a good adaptation, in my opinion, is a production that is true to the spirit of the book. Making a film that does that is easier said than done, I'm sure, but I know it's possible because I've seen it.
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Friday, June 27, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Now this is my kind of trash.
I think today would be a good day to talk about trashy fantasy, since I just finished the Stone Key (book 5 of the Obernewtyn Chronicles) by Isobelle Carmody. I would like to offer the following observations about trashy fantasy:
1. it's addictive. I started reading this series when I was about ten or so, at the age where just about everything I read was trashy. Eight years later, I'm still reading it - not because I particularly like it any more, just because I want to find out what happens. See Harry Potter for a pertinent example.
2. Any literary merit the books possess is progressively leeched from them as the series progresses. Again, see HP. The first three books were good, then suddenly it didn't matter how she wrote as long as people kept reading it. I have several theories as to why this phenomenon occurs:
4. For me, at least, reading these books evoke memories of a more innocent time. A time filled with lazy summers and weekends sans homework. A time when a sex scene was a daring thing, causing giggles with fellow readers at lunchtime (incidentally, no sex scenes in the Obernewtyn chronicles). A time when I had known no sickness, no heartbreak, no despair. Looking back, it seems like they were my halcyon days - idyllic, perfect, and gone forever. Rereading the books I read then is like sinking into a soft, soft bed when exhausted. My life now's not so bad, ok? But sometimes you just want to get away.
6. There's always the joy of discussing them with friends. Well do I remember that abysmal compulsory religion day at school (actually, it was only last year). A couple of friends and I decided we had had enough of writing personal messages to God with lipstick on a tablecloth draped over a coffin, and we sneaked off into the pews of the church and lay there, whispering about, you guessed it, the Obernewtyn Chronicles. I look back on that day with the greatest nostalgia. Another telling anecdote would be about the week preceding the release of the final Harry Potter book. Every class was spent talking about HP. For me, who loves talking about books, it was literally the. best. thing. ever. Because suddenly it wasn't only the select few with whom I could discuss to my heart's content! It was everyone! Oh, those heady days.
7. You always know that at the end, good will defeat evil. Often I find this irritating, but sometimes it's nice. Even though they're full of magic and shit, the worlds of trashy fantasy seem simpler. Things are black and white. There are heroes and monsters, goodies and baddies. If a main character does die, they do so gracefully and elegantly. If there's a sad ending, it leaves you feeling uplifted, for even though you wept, it was beautiful (Bitterbynde, anyone?). And where there is beauty, there is hope.
Some authors try to get around this by blurring the lines between a 'goodie' and a baddie' - that is to say, the heroes may have questionable morals or snarl often (Anne Bishop, you scarred me for life at an impressionable age with your snarling, questionably-moraled characters. I never forgave you for that). It doesn't work. GIVE IT UP GUYS YOU FAIL AT SUBTLETY.
8. There's always a new vocabulary to be learnt and later recited! Actually, now I think of it, maybe this is why I read them so much. New words! Shiny! Anyway, my favourite has got to the be necromancer bells of Garth Nix's Abhorsen trilogy (it had to rate a mention somehow). Let's see if I can still do it: ranna, mosrael, dyrim, belgaer... all right, I suck. I forget the rest. BLASPHEMY!!!!
9. The fanfiction, oh the fanfiction! I actually rarely read the stuff, because it's too bad. But it's good for a laugh. Oh, the perpetual hilarity of the Hermione/Snape pairing! The ultimate badass-ness of Bible slash! (actually, God fails at trashy fantasy. 'nuff said.) ... moving on. The less time spent talking about fanfiction the better, is all I can say.
Specifically to The Stone Key, Carmody kind of tries to explore the theme of fate versus action - you know, like in Macbeth, Oedipus, and a trillion other works of literature throughout the ages - but rather unsubtly and clumsily. Give it up, Isobelle! I love your work, but don't try to be deep. BE SHALLOW AND INSUBSTANTIAL AND WITHOUT LITERARY MERIT, FOR THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU.
P.S. I know I have used Harry Potter examples frequently throughout this epistle, but IMHO, HP is not trashy fantasy, for all that it conforms to most of the criteria. The trubbs with you, HP (soz) is that you're not obscure enough. To qualify as trashy fantasy, a series' following has to be hopelessly nerdy and confined to dusty corners of the internet (and crouched beneath a pew when there is nothing better to talk about). I only used HP as an example because everyone knows it, and it does exemplify trashy fantasy in many ways.
It's rather sad to see how much I have written about trashy fantasy, of all things. I defend myself by observing that I am still young and thus it forms a larger proportion of my reading life than it would to, say, someone in their middle age. Through fantasy, I came to bigger and better things!!! Rant rant rant!! Bombast! Grandiloquent rhetoric!!!!!!!1
1. it's addictive. I started reading this series when I was about ten or so, at the age where just about everything I read was trashy. Eight years later, I'm still reading it - not because I particularly like it any more, just because I want to find out what happens. See Harry Potter for a pertinent example.
2. Any literary merit the books possess is progressively leeched from them as the series progresses. Again, see HP. The first three books were good, then suddenly it didn't matter how she wrote as long as people kept reading it. I have several theories as to why this phenomenon occurs:
- Fame (only in some cases, such as Rowling). Editors become afraid to alter anything because let's face it, the books sell. I can't blame them for this - it's the HPs and Da Vinci Codes of this world that pay for all the decent books.
- The plot takes over. The author finds that the plot is becoming increasingly complex, and in order to keep the book at a manageable size, character development and all the other good stuff is sacrificed to the GOD OF PLOT. Beware a series whose books become progressively larger! It is almost certainly getting crappier and crappier as it goes. The Stone Key's at 997 pages, and it's not even the last in the series.
- Fan pressure. I know that Isobelle Carmody, for one, is known for getting distracted with other books when devoted fans such as myself know she should be concentrating on the good stuff. (Are you reading this, Isobelle? Finish the Obernewtyn and Legendsong series already!) So anyway, the fans want the books. The authors don't want too many of the fans to grow up and grow out of their books, so they write quickly and perhaps without as much attention to detail as they could. I (not known for my perspicuity) noticed two contradictions that were positively GLARING in The Stone Key.
4. For me, at least, reading these books evoke memories of a more innocent time. A time filled with lazy summers and weekends sans homework. A time when a sex scene was a daring thing, causing giggles with fellow readers at lunchtime (incidentally, no sex scenes in the Obernewtyn chronicles). A time when I had known no sickness, no heartbreak, no despair. Looking back, it seems like they were my halcyon days - idyllic, perfect, and gone forever. Rereading the books I read then is like sinking into a soft, soft bed when exhausted. My life now's not so bad, ok? But sometimes you just want to get away.
6. There's always the joy of discussing them with friends. Well do I remember that abysmal compulsory religion day at school (actually, it was only last year). A couple of friends and I decided we had had enough of writing personal messages to God with lipstick on a tablecloth draped over a coffin, and we sneaked off into the pews of the church and lay there, whispering about, you guessed it, the Obernewtyn Chronicles. I look back on that day with the greatest nostalgia. Another telling anecdote would be about the week preceding the release of the final Harry Potter book. Every class was spent talking about HP. For me, who loves talking about books, it was literally the. best. thing. ever. Because suddenly it wasn't only the select few with whom I could discuss to my heart's content! It was everyone! Oh, those heady days.
7. You always know that at the end, good will defeat evil. Often I find this irritating, but sometimes it's nice. Even though they're full of magic and shit, the worlds of trashy fantasy seem simpler. Things are black and white. There are heroes and monsters, goodies and baddies. If a main character does die, they do so gracefully and elegantly. If there's a sad ending, it leaves you feeling uplifted, for even though you wept, it was beautiful (Bitterbynde, anyone?). And where there is beauty, there is hope.
Some authors try to get around this by blurring the lines between a 'goodie' and a baddie' - that is to say, the heroes may have questionable morals or snarl often (Anne Bishop, you scarred me for life at an impressionable age with your snarling, questionably-moraled characters. I never forgave you for that). It doesn't work. GIVE IT UP GUYS YOU FAIL AT SUBTLETY.
8. There's always a new vocabulary to be learnt and later recited! Actually, now I think of it, maybe this is why I read them so much. New words! Shiny! Anyway, my favourite has got to the be necromancer bells of Garth Nix's Abhorsen trilogy (it had to rate a mention somehow). Let's see if I can still do it: ranna, mosrael, dyrim, belgaer... all right, I suck. I forget the rest. BLASPHEMY!!!!
9. The fanfiction, oh the fanfiction! I actually rarely read the stuff, because it's too bad. But it's good for a laugh. Oh, the perpetual hilarity of the Hermione/Snape pairing! The ultimate badass-ness of Bible slash! (actually, God fails at trashy fantasy. 'nuff said.) ... moving on. The less time spent talking about fanfiction the better, is all I can say.
Specifically to The Stone Key, Carmody kind of tries to explore the theme of fate versus action - you know, like in Macbeth, Oedipus, and a trillion other works of literature throughout the ages - but rather unsubtly and clumsily. Give it up, Isobelle! I love your work, but don't try to be deep. BE SHALLOW AND INSUBSTANTIAL AND WITHOUT LITERARY MERIT, FOR THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU.
P.S. I know I have used Harry Potter examples frequently throughout this epistle, but IMHO, HP is not trashy fantasy, for all that it conforms to most of the criteria. The trubbs with you, HP (soz) is that you're not obscure enough. To qualify as trashy fantasy, a series' following has to be hopelessly nerdy and confined to dusty corners of the internet (and crouched beneath a pew when there is nothing better to talk about). I only used HP as an example because everyone knows it, and it does exemplify trashy fantasy in many ways.
It's rather sad to see how much I have written about trashy fantasy, of all things. I defend myself by observing that I am still young and thus it forms a larger proportion of my reading life than it would to, say, someone in their middle age. Through fantasy, I came to bigger and better things!!! Rant rant rant!! Bombast! Grandiloquent rhetoric!!!!!!!1
Friday, April 4, 2008
Notes on books and various other written media I have read lately
The Plague by Albert Camus
The Plague is about a plague that strikes the town of Port Oran in Algeria. It describes the behaviour of the populace and of several specific characters over the course of the plague. It's existentialist and emphasises the inevitability of life and our inability to control our own destinies (I wrote a major essay on a similar theme about Chekhov and Solzhenitsyn, so it's a topic of which I am rather fond).
Something I spend quite a lot of time thinking about is the relationship between style and the quality of a book. The Plague was very interesting in terms of style. It was narrated by someone who calls themselves 'the narrator', and we find out only at the end that 'the narrator' is actually Rieux, the main character. This gives it a really detached air. Yet it still manages to describe the events with the utmost compassion. Some parts were very moving. The prose is bare and unadorned, yet still beautiful. It's like those European trees in winter, stark and black against the white sky. Those trees are beautiful enough to make me want to live in Europe. But it's interesting that such objective prose can be so emotive. I used to think that beauty came from the use of intricate metaphor and imagery and stylistic techniques, but I've started to change my tune, and reading The Plague only confirmed this for me.
Harper's Bazaar
Has incredibly boring articles. A friend lent a few magazines to me in an attempt to convert me to fashion. The fashion was pretty, but the articles...... there was one about models being too thin, and I suppose it was always a hard ask to expect someone to come up with an original article on such a hackneyed topic, but I mean, really. It just went round and round and round, going over the exact same things, not even attempting to assert an opinion or make a statement. Euhhhhh. The other articles were similarly boring, because really, who wants to read about Katie Holmes or 'your definition of luxury'? I skipped most of them and looked at the pictures, like a little kid.
Exercises in Style by Raymond Queneau
I have been wanting to read this book for aaaaaaages, because it has a fantastic concept. Queneau wrote about an inconsequential meeting on a bus and a short conversation about a button. The story has no point, which is the point in itself. It's just a vehicle for the exercises in style. He writes the about the same sequence of events in 99 different styles, from haiku to sonnet. I was kind of waiting for it to tell me something profound about style (which I'm so into right now) and it kind of did, but not how I expected it to. More than anything, though, it's funny. I especially laughed at the opera one. It must have been the most enjoyable thing to translate (originally written in French). I might write something more profound about it later, but at the moment I'm feeling like my brain is leaking out of my ears.
Phosphore
I don't know if there's any point me writing about this. Basically, it's a French magazine for teenagers about... stuff. I'm reading it to improve my French, and it seems pretty good to me. It seems to lack the slightly patronising attitude magazines for this age group often have, but I have doubts that my French is good enough that I could pick it up, anyway. With French, I never have any trouble understanding anything, but I can't pick up tone or more subtle things like that. I should read more in French. Basically, I only mention this to remind myself to write sometime about the differences in reading in different languages, because it's pretty interesting.
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
I have heard so much about Neil Gaiman that when my friend sent me a link to an e-book of American Gods I started reading it straight away. So far, though, it's rather dull. It's intriguing, but in the way a thriller is intriguing, i.e., boringly. It's written like a thriller but with less action and I like it not. I'm just waiting for something decent to happen. I am not reassured about the tastes of the human race.
In other news, I gave my Dad Cat's Eye to read and HE LOVES IT. Interestingly, he seemed much more affected by it than I was. He said he was crying his eyes out as he read it on the plane. Which is odd, or maybe I am just cold-hearted. But I love discussing it with him, and contrary to my expectations, he still made me think of new things about the book. I thought that he wouldn't have assimilated it enough after the first reading to be able to discuss it properly (only because I wasn't able to after my first reading, but maybe I'm just dumb) but he made me think - maybe the reason I like it so much is because I can identify with Elaine's isolation in primary school. That's why it made him so sad - it reminded him of his own misery in primary school. Except it's not really misery, because as we were saying, kids have such limited experience that they just accept all this bad stuff that's happening to them as normal, natural, the way of life. I certainly did, Dad did, Elaine did. She captures perfectly the exquisite loneliness and unhappiness of those days, except that you're not really lonely or unhappy because you never take a step back to evaluate it objectively. Or you're not able to take that step back, either way. So go Dad for being smart and cool.
This is why I love reading so much; there is always more to find in even the most shallow of books. This is basically the only reason I liked Harry Potter so much; for the only time ever (probably in all of history) there was this book that almost everyone had read, and almost everyone was happy to talk about it and discuss it. It made me very happy. In terms of booktalk, the week before the last HP book emerged was the best in my life.
The Plague is about a plague that strikes the town of Port Oran in Algeria. It describes the behaviour of the populace and of several specific characters over the course of the plague. It's existentialist and emphasises the inevitability of life and our inability to control our own destinies (I wrote a major essay on a similar theme about Chekhov and Solzhenitsyn, so it's a topic of which I am rather fond).
Something I spend quite a lot of time thinking about is the relationship between style and the quality of a book. The Plague was very interesting in terms of style. It was narrated by someone who calls themselves 'the narrator', and we find out only at the end that 'the narrator' is actually Rieux, the main character. This gives it a really detached air. Yet it still manages to describe the events with the utmost compassion. Some parts were very moving. The prose is bare and unadorned, yet still beautiful. It's like those European trees in winter, stark and black against the white sky. Those trees are beautiful enough to make me want to live in Europe. But it's interesting that such objective prose can be so emotive. I used to think that beauty came from the use of intricate metaphor and imagery and stylistic techniques, but I've started to change my tune, and reading The Plague only confirmed this for me.
Harper's Bazaar
Has incredibly boring articles. A friend lent a few magazines to me in an attempt to convert me to fashion. The fashion was pretty, but the articles...... there was one about models being too thin, and I suppose it was always a hard ask to expect someone to come up with an original article on such a hackneyed topic, but I mean, really. It just went round and round and round, going over the exact same things, not even attempting to assert an opinion or make a statement. Euhhhhh. The other articles were similarly boring, because really, who wants to read about Katie Holmes or 'your definition of luxury'? I skipped most of them and looked at the pictures, like a little kid.
Exercises in Style by Raymond Queneau
I have been wanting to read this book for aaaaaaages, because it has a fantastic concept. Queneau wrote about an inconsequential meeting on a bus and a short conversation about a button. The story has no point, which is the point in itself. It's just a vehicle for the exercises in style. He writes the about the same sequence of events in 99 different styles, from haiku to sonnet. I was kind of waiting for it to tell me something profound about style (which I'm so into right now) and it kind of did, but not how I expected it to. More than anything, though, it's funny. I especially laughed at the opera one. It must have been the most enjoyable thing to translate (originally written in French). I might write something more profound about it later, but at the moment I'm feeling like my brain is leaking out of my ears.
Phosphore
I don't know if there's any point me writing about this. Basically, it's a French magazine for teenagers about... stuff. I'm reading it to improve my French, and it seems pretty good to me. It seems to lack the slightly patronising attitude magazines for this age group often have, but I have doubts that my French is good enough that I could pick it up, anyway. With French, I never have any trouble understanding anything, but I can't pick up tone or more subtle things like that. I should read more in French. Basically, I only mention this to remind myself to write sometime about the differences in reading in different languages, because it's pretty interesting.
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
I have heard so much about Neil Gaiman that when my friend sent me a link to an e-book of American Gods I started reading it straight away. So far, though, it's rather dull. It's intriguing, but in the way a thriller is intriguing, i.e., boringly. It's written like a thriller but with less action and I like it not. I'm just waiting for something decent to happen. I am not reassured about the tastes of the human race.
In other news, I gave my Dad Cat's Eye to read and HE LOVES IT. Interestingly, he seemed much more affected by it than I was. He said he was crying his eyes out as he read it on the plane. Which is odd, or maybe I am just cold-hearted. But I love discussing it with him, and contrary to my expectations, he still made me think of new things about the book. I thought that he wouldn't have assimilated it enough after the first reading to be able to discuss it properly (only because I wasn't able to after my first reading, but maybe I'm just dumb) but he made me think - maybe the reason I like it so much is because I can identify with Elaine's isolation in primary school. That's why it made him so sad - it reminded him of his own misery in primary school. Except it's not really misery, because as we were saying, kids have such limited experience that they just accept all this bad stuff that's happening to them as normal, natural, the way of life. I certainly did, Dad did, Elaine did. She captures perfectly the exquisite loneliness and unhappiness of those days, except that you're not really lonely or unhappy because you never take a step back to evaluate it objectively. Or you're not able to take that step back, either way. So go Dad for being smart and cool.
This is why I love reading so much; there is always more to find in even the most shallow of books. This is basically the only reason I liked Harry Potter so much; for the only time ever (probably in all of history) there was this book that almost everyone had read, and almost everyone was happy to talk about it and discuss it. It made me very happy. In terms of booktalk, the week before the last HP book emerged was the best in my life.
Monday, March 31, 2008
So I guess maybe today I'll write about reputations.
How important is a book's reputation? Let's have a couple of telling anecdotes and see what conclusions we can draw, eh?
So, once upon a time about ten or so years ago Yours Truly went to the local library. Back in the days when she was pretty unsure about what she wanted to read because there are so few decent kids' books out there, and tended to borrow pretty much at random, unless there was a Cassie at the Ballet School book hanging around, or alternatively Put a Sock in it, Percy! that she could read for the umpteenth time.
And this fine day, she borrowed a book with a red cover and a picture of a bemused-looking boy with what was supposed to be tousled black hair, glasses and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, standing in front of a red steam engine (keep in mind that editions from different countries have different covers). Have you guessed which book it was yet? Let me assure you that I had no idea at the time what a phenomenon Harry Potter was going to become. I had never heard of J. K. Rowling, Albus Dumbledore, or indeed Marie Curie. I borrowed the book totally at random (I don't even remember reading the blurb) and returned it a couple of weeks later without having opened it. I used to do that a lot - just not be bothered reading books I borrowed because of laziness or they looked too stupid or just for no particular reason at all. How much times have changed!
For some reason, this book that I didn't even read stuck in my head somehow and when I was about eleven or something I walked into my school library and pulled HP3 off the rack, thinking vaguely to myself 'This book's supposed to be good'. This was not long before the Harry Potter thing really took off, so I suppose it's not surprising that I recognised it. This time I actually started reading it, and continued reading it all the way through my ballet show, instead of playing cards and dancing and eating junk food like I usually did. It was very gripping, and not knowing who Neville Longbottom was really didn't matter for very long.
So I suppose this means I can claim to be one of the 'original', non-bandwagon jumping onto HP fans, even if my instinct for a good book failed me on the first occasion I came across it. But look what reputation does! Reputation turned Harry Potter from just another drop in the ocean to something that was practically an ocean itself. Reputation turned what was (for the first three books) a nice, decently characterised and written children's series into a behemoth of gargantuan lack of literary merit and an entire industry's worth of merchandise and spinoffs. It also enticed people, children and adults alike, who hadn't picked up a book in years to start reading. And maybe some of them continued. I don't really know, I never had that problem. But maybe for some J. K. Rowling is my Yves Klein. I certainly hope so.
There's no doubt that reputation is a pretty powerful thing. It can both make and break a concept, simultaneously in HP's case.
A caveat: I'm talking about reputation as a vague, nebulous thing that sort of hangs in the air and permeates peoples' brains without them even realising (as HP did to me).
Going again by this amorphous thing loosely termed 'reputation', I'm currently reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods. I just kept hearing his name everywhere, including from sources I deemed vaguely respectable, and I thought I should see what all the fuss is about (incidentally, read it here for free!). So far I'm disappointed. Page 70 and it has shown no signs of being anything other than a common or garden thriller. And I dislike thrillers at the best of times.
I suppose what I might be trying to say is that I don't have a huge amount of confidence in reputation's taste. In almost every case, reputation's choices disappoint me. I think this is generally because reputation likes thrillers much more than I do; but that's a topic for another post. Refusing to read books with reputation (or roundly condemning them before even having read them) is just as bad as only reading or making opinions from reputation. In the end, anything that gets people reading is a good thing in my book (haha hilarious pun). As I've said before, extremes are bad.
I read by reputation partly from curiosity and partly from a sense of social enquiry. It's fascinating to wonder why reputation amasses around some things with such a hugeness of volume (such as Harry Potter) but virtually ignores other things that on first glance seem to have the same potential. I don't understand why just yet, but rest assured that I'll let you know as soon as I work it out.
So, once upon a time about ten or so years ago Yours Truly went to the local library. Back in the days when she was pretty unsure about what she wanted to read because there are so few decent kids' books out there, and tended to borrow pretty much at random, unless there was a Cassie at the Ballet School book hanging around, or alternatively Put a Sock in it, Percy! that she could read for the umpteenth time.
And this fine day, she borrowed a book with a red cover and a picture of a bemused-looking boy with what was supposed to be tousled black hair, glasses and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, standing in front of a red steam engine (keep in mind that editions from different countries have different covers). Have you guessed which book it was yet? Let me assure you that I had no idea at the time what a phenomenon Harry Potter was going to become. I had never heard of J. K. Rowling, Albus Dumbledore, or indeed Marie Curie. I borrowed the book totally at random (I don't even remember reading the blurb) and returned it a couple of weeks later without having opened it. I used to do that a lot - just not be bothered reading books I borrowed because of laziness or they looked too stupid or just for no particular reason at all. How much times have changed!
For some reason, this book that I didn't even read stuck in my head somehow and when I was about eleven or something I walked into my school library and pulled HP3 off the rack, thinking vaguely to myself 'This book's supposed to be good'. This was not long before the Harry Potter thing really took off, so I suppose it's not surprising that I recognised it. This time I actually started reading it, and continued reading it all the way through my ballet show, instead of playing cards and dancing and eating junk food like I usually did. It was very gripping, and not knowing who Neville Longbottom was really didn't matter for very long.
So I suppose this means I can claim to be one of the 'original', non-bandwagon jumping onto HP fans, even if my instinct for a good book failed me on the first occasion I came across it. But look what reputation does! Reputation turned Harry Potter from just another drop in the ocean to something that was practically an ocean itself. Reputation turned what was (for the first three books) a nice, decently characterised and written children's series into a behemoth of gargantuan lack of literary merit and an entire industry's worth of merchandise and spinoffs. It also enticed people, children and adults alike, who hadn't picked up a book in years to start reading. And maybe some of them continued. I don't really know, I never had that problem. But maybe for some J. K. Rowling is my Yves Klein. I certainly hope so.
There's no doubt that reputation is a pretty powerful thing. It can both make and break a concept, simultaneously in HP's case.
A caveat: I'm talking about reputation as a vague, nebulous thing that sort of hangs in the air and permeates peoples' brains without them even realising (as HP did to me).
Going again by this amorphous thing loosely termed 'reputation', I'm currently reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods. I just kept hearing his name everywhere, including from sources I deemed vaguely respectable, and I thought I should see what all the fuss is about (incidentally, read it here for free!). So far I'm disappointed. Page 70 and it has shown no signs of being anything other than a common or garden thriller. And I dislike thrillers at the best of times.
I suppose what I might be trying to say is that I don't have a huge amount of confidence in reputation's taste. In almost every case, reputation's choices disappoint me. I think this is generally because reputation likes thrillers much more than I do; but that's a topic for another post. Refusing to read books with reputation (or roundly condemning them before even having read them) is just as bad as only reading or making opinions from reputation. In the end, anything that gets people reading is a good thing in my book (haha hilarious pun). As I've said before, extremes are bad.
I read by reputation partly from curiosity and partly from a sense of social enquiry. It's fascinating to wonder why reputation amasses around some things with such a hugeness of volume (such as Harry Potter) but virtually ignores other things that on first glance seem to have the same potential. I don't understand why just yet, but rest assured that I'll let you know as soon as I work it out.
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