Monday, March 05, 2007
Some words about loyalty
I finally finished The Twenty-Seventh City by Jonathan Franzen....

I've talked about Franzen before. He is a very, very good writer. Love his dialogue...attention to detail...complete catalogue of the mundane. thing I didn't start with this book-- his first novel. wouldn't have picked up anything else by him. Ever. Even if it was the one and only book left on the planet and I would die if I didn't read it. Even then I would refuse.

Ok...I may be exagerating a teeny tiny bit BUT I didn't enjoy the book. It moved a little too slow and then, in contrast, the dramatic parts were just a little too dramatic. And that went on--for 500+ pages and I found myself irritated with Franzen. Not irritated enough to put down the book because I'm a loyal reader and was trying to find sophistication in the wandering story...but irritated enough to say 'shame on you' in my silent, judgmental voice.

Anyway.... I realized upon reflection that this is a trend with me. This being my unhappiness with authors who I previously had fallen in love with.

Franzen, Dave Eggers, Nick Hornby* and Jonthan Safran Foer are fantastic examples of authors that I devour and then turn on later in our relationship. Don't get me wrong, I haven't disowned them. No. I still pick up their new work and give it a chance but I always have that little voice of doubt in the back of my mind.... "Dave, Dave, this going to be Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius awesome or You Shall Know our Velocity mediocrity?"

So, Internets....Is it that my standards become so high it is impossible for them to meet the expectation...or am I just fickle? Or is a love/hate relationship normal to have with authors ? (authors who, um, you don't know yet continue to have imaginary conversations with anyway)

*It should be noted that I have enjoyed more than one book from both Franzen and Hornby. I've enjoyed many books by Hornby...



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