I think I mentioned I went to the library early Friday evening.
I took out "Eat, Pray, Love".
I'm so glad I never bought the book, and I know I might not be being fair when I say I put the book down in 'section two' (not chapters, not parts, some constructed way of dividing up a book into parts that, even as I read the first....'bead' I was weary of).
I just know this; if this book is out there, published, movie'ed, adored by women everywhere (shame on you), I feel good about my future as a writer.
I just do. She starts the book off by admitting, defensively, she won't reveal her marital issues. WHY? I ask you? WHY write a book then? Why, though (this is the REAL biggie) get a book published?
It's like that adage "There are no bad dogs, only bad owners." Maybe, just maybe, there are no bad writers, just bad editors, and bad publishers, and the only 'bad' we read are things that were never meant to see the light of the bookstore. Sure, there are lots of 'unreadable' books to each of us, just like we all have individual taste in movies, tv shows, clothes, food, and places. But the fact that this particular book was so immensely popular (with women) and the fact that I never felt compelled, in any way, to pick it up before Friday evening (my defense, I was bored, zapped from the work week, the library was closing, blah blah blah.... doesn't absolve me I know).
But nothing about the book caught me, made me say, woah, hold on a minute here.
So, it's going back to the library.
Just glad I didn't buy the book (or see the movie. Julia Roberts is bad enough as it is, without this script behind her. Ugh. That's another thing I absolutely hate, and I HATE that writers allow it--have their books optioned and made into something unrecognizable).
A favourite of mine, The Time Traveller's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger, was made into a substandard movie, woefully miscast (in my head, and the head of the friend who gave me the copy of this book--we had it ALL planned out who was to play who in our movie version).
I managed to put myself to sleep on the plane that showed the movie, so I wouldn't have to have it visually imprint me and upend the visuals I already had after reading the book about ten times.
It's Tuesday night, I'm tired, and I've entitled yet another post with a day of the week in the title.
So sue me...in four days I'll be in Maine and this will all be a dim memory.