Sunday night at dinner, when discussing the hotness quotient of actor Daniel Day Lewis, I discovered that Tim had never seen the entire movie The Last of the Mohicans. Could there be a better opportunity for me to see that movie again? I think not. So I went on a quest. I had to go three places before I could find a DVD for sale or rent (sale, I’m happy to say, so it’s now in the collection). And yep. Daniel Day Lewis: still hot.
Sugar tried to play with Rex while the movie was on, but Rex went in his room and snubbed us all. I think maybe he’s read Mark Twain’s searing criticism of the work of James Fenimore Cooper, who wrote the book The Last of the Mohicans. I kind of understand Rex’s dilemma, because I can never watch the movie without waiting for a twig to snap, and it’s all Mark Twain’s fault because he said:
Another stage-property that [Cooper] pulled out of his box pretty frequently was the broken twig. He prized his broken twig above all the rest of his effects, and worked it the hardest. It is a restful chapter in any book of his when somebody doesn’t step on a dry twig and alarm all the reds and whites for two hundred yards around. Every time a Cooper person is in peril, and absolute silence is worth four dollars a minute, he is sure to step on a dry twig. There may be a hundred other handier things to step on, but that wouldn’t satisfy Cooper. Cooper requires him to turn out and find a dry twig; and if he can’t do it, go and borrow one. In fact, the Leatherstocking Series ought to have been called the Broken Twig Series.
If you were ever forced to read James Fenimore Cooper, you might enjoy Twain’s titled “Fenimore Cooper’s Literary Offenses.” Fortunately, Cooper had been dead forty-some years by the time Twain made his witty attack, an interval a lot of writers would do well to emulate. I do try for the most part not to publicly express criticism of other writers’ work. I generally live by the rule that every book has an audience. Just because something’s not to my taste doesn’t mean there aren’t tons of people who’d enjoy it, broken twigs notwithstanding.
Recently I inadvertently broke my rule. I can only try to do better. I don’t want to be like another author (who I know only online) who frequently slams some of my favorite writers then turns around and preaches, “If you can’t say something nice about people’s work, say nothing.” Um, exactly.
As I’ve mentioned before right here on this LJ, writers are not competing with other writers so there’s no need for pettiness, vindictiveness, jealousy, and resentment. One writer’s success takes nothing from another writer. The more books there are for people to enjoy, the more they’ll want. Someone I knew a long time ago said this about cocaine: As soon as you finish, you want more. I think that’s true when we read books we love. We immediately want more when we finish one, and fortunately, books are legal, cheaper, and you won’t end up having to get your nose rebuilt because of them. I’m all for people writing, reading, and recommending more books to feed people’s reading addiction.
One book that has been frequently recommended to me lately is Andrew Beierle’s First Person Plural. I picked it up when I was out searching for Daniel Day Lewis The Last of the Mohicans. Last week, it was gratifying to see a number of authors offer their support and encouragement to Andrew when he was caught in the middle of a dispute between a bookseller and his publisher, not a happy place to be.
I’m reserving the right to talk about booksellers and writers another day. Right now, I need to curl up with a book until I fall asleep.
