Tuesday, April 19, 2005

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.

3 comments:

Ronni Bennett said...

For many years, I looked forward to rotten weather weekends for an excuse to lock myself in the house, turn off the phone and revel in the deep pleasure of losing myself in a trashy novel or two until Monday morning. I tended toward mysteries and detective stories.

Maybe it's the 14 years between us, Pattie, but as my time on earth shortens, I had to make a new rule if I was ever going to read the other - "good" - stuff on my list before I die: no more trashy novel weekends.

But I see there's a new Robert Parker in the stores, and you reminded me that I should catch up with Koontz, Grisham, DeMille, Baldacci...

I wonder what the weather will be next weekend...

tod said...

I go through periods where I'll read ten novels in three weeks, and then won't read for a month or so. Last summer I reread every Philip Roth novel, and when I was done I felt like I had lost my best friend. I've done the same with Graham Greene. Right now I'm waiting for the final book in the trilogy Richard Ford started with The Sportswriter and Independence Day.

bill said...

I got hooked on mystery and detective novels when I was a kid and started reading the ones my parents had stashed away.