Reading A Snickers Book

Good thing the world finally has a new Pope.

Close the confessional door quietly, and hear my secret sins. I sometimes read junk novels. Hear ye, hear ye, all ye intellectual pedestal toppers, come off yer highbrow high horse and try a walk on the other side of literature before you pronounce judgement.

Perhaps it began when I was young and did not know what great prose was; maybe I would have discovered these guilty pleasures anyway. Like moth to a flame, I cannot resist the quick and dirty read. What is that you say? You never give a second glance to the newest John Saul, or Dominick Dunne on the bookstore rack? Bullcrap, I say, pure dee manure nuggets. 'Course you do. May not be these two particular guys, but I would bet if you are a reader at all, there are those times when you crave something less than a 4-inch tome of dry dusty words.

But, back to the sinnin' part. I am currently reading (nay, devouring) "The Taking" by Dean Koontz. Ahem, yes, Koontz. I liken him to a Snickers Bar: just the trick for a late night sweet tooth, and no big surprises. You know a Snickers will always have the gooey caramel and chewy peanuts smothered in milk chocolate, just as Koontz will forever weave a hokey sci-fi tale. Predictable, but nicely fills that gnawing hungry growl for junk food. I found myself up reading at 1:00 AM - on a workday night, the next page turning like my hand back to the M&M bowl.

After I finish "The Taking", I will do penance by reading a few chapters of Hawthorne or other suitable and proper author; perhaps a treatise on the universe by Stephen Hawking.

A few sit-ups might not hurt, either.