Imagine writing your first book, sending it away to a big time agent, getting a response back that this book is going to shake the foundations of the literary world, then having a bidding war on your first novel where you get 6 figures.
Now imagine the book is absolute crap.
That’s Wizard’s First Rule by Terry Goodkind, where the dialogue makes me cringe, where the plot is pretty standard, where the bad guys are so ridiculously evil…and imagine it’s 800 pages long.
Now, I say it’s crap, but this guy is a best seller. I’ve tried liking it. I really have. My Mom absolutely loves this guy. She thinks it’s so thrilling that she can’t put it down. I think it’s terrible. Like awful. There isn’t one semi-original idea anywhere to be found.
But that’s the problem. This book scares me. Not because of the writing (hell no, this book couldn’t elicit any type of response other than disgust) but because he is so successful…and I hate it so much. But if he’s successful, what is he doing that I cannot?
I guess I shouldn’t be too worried. Britney Spears, Nickelback, and a host of terrible bands are also commercially successful…but that doesn’t mean they’re any good. They still suck.
Now people who know me think I’m too critical. Perhaps. But isn’t anyone that has a passion for something? Music? Art? Sports? Turn down their noses at what is considered popular, but perhaps not very original.
I’m turning down my nose at this one.
No, forget it. I’m pissing on it. Then I’m going to shred it, and then I’m going to put the confetti in my composter.
And I’m going to sleep better at night, knowing that I have rid the world of a very bad book (okay, this copy belongs to the library…so I’ll own them $10 — damn you, Terry Goodkind! Damn you to hell!)