Hello, Lovelies! How is your Sunday morning treating you? I have a headache. Maybe I should write a book about it. What am I talking about? The NYT article, The Problem with Memoirs. I saw some discussion about it on Twitter so I gave it a read this morning. It's a divisive article. Some people agree and some people are throwing the E word around (E for Elitist).
He has a point. I'm not saying he is totally right but there are memoirs out there I have zero interest in which seem like an excuse to whine about personal troubles. Life is tough. Bad things happen. Often bad thing after bad thing. Somehow we get through. Do we need a memoir about it? Not always. That's why God invented blogs. And friends.
An interesting story to one person is a boring one to another. It's a matter of taste. Who gets to decide whose life is interesting enough? That's up to the publishers to decide and ultimately the people who read them. Personally, I have no interest in celebrity memoirs but millions of other people do. I'm not the Queen of Publishing so celebrity memoirs will continue to be printed. For the people who read memoirs, do us a favor: review them, let us know as much about them as possible and we'll decide whether or not to read them ourselves.
Now onto other things...
I finished a totally beautiful book this week, The Summer Book. It was short and so good I read it in a day. Lately I can't seem to get involved in a book. I keep finding other things I want to do. I thought maybe I was losing my reading mojo. I was just waiting for the right book I guess.
Anyway, this was a pointless post. I need to get my blogging act together. I don't have any strong opinions lately. Or I don't have the words to express those opinions. Maybe I'm just cranky. I don't know. Damn winter.
Are you cranky lately, readers?