Books, critics and Snoopy
Dorothy Parker a syndicated columnist with a razor-sharp
tongue had a column under the name of "Constant Reader". She read one
of those syrupy romance books, the kind that simply drips with sugar and
in reviewing it she wrote as if she had a lisp. "Twonstant weeda fwoed
up." I know it's the wickedness in me, but I can’t help taking pleasure
in that!
Of course, I’d hate to have been the author of that book she reviewed. Come to think of it, I have been
the author of more than one book that’s been trashed by reviewers. My
books just don’t sell. Still, if I could write as Dorothy Parker wrote
I’d have no trouble.
Writers of all kinds offer themselves for target practice, don’t
they? One poor poet wrote a two-liner and a critic remarked on it.
"Quite good, but with long dry stretches."
The Irish playwright and conversationalist Oscar Wilde had a go at no
less a figure than Charles Dickens. Of Dickens’ telling of the death of
Little Nell, Wilde said something like, "You would have to have a heart
of stone not to laugh out loud at the death of little Nell."
Pity the poor authors that take themselves too seriously.
But I think that’s one of the secrets of a happy life: to be able to
make the best of and find pleasure in whatever the result is
of...whatever.
Take the case of Snoopy in the Peanuts series. He keeps
sending manuscripts off to publishing editors (obviously a lot of them
must have gone to the same editor) and he continues to get rejections.
One rejection note he’s reading has to be read in a voice that rises to a
crescendo. It had something like: "Will you stop sending me your
useless manuscripts. I hate them, they’re a waste of time, I’m sick and
tired looking at them. Stop sending them!" Snoopy walks off grinning with ear-to-ear pleasure and says, "I just love to hear editors beg."
Atta boy, Snoop!
Then there was that caustic book review I read that said, "Professor ‘X’ has written his book again."
Ouch!
But there’s no accounting for taste, is there? What is ambrosia to
some is sawdust to others. What to some is like a bowl of strawberries
and ice-cream is like licking carpet to others. Oh well.
Think I’ll see if I can catch up with Snoopy.