They say everybody's got at least one book in him/her. From my vantage point on the front lines of the book business, I'm beginning to believe that there are only two books that can wind up being in you: a biography of Abe Lincoln or a sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
I swear to Gutenberg there is at least one of these two types of books published every week. Granted, both Lincoln and Austen's novel are extremely praiseworthy entities and deserve to be studied, revisited, and even revered, but really, haven't we had enough? I've read a few Lincoln bios and read and re-read P&P and taught it to teenage girls (a real pleasure) for several years, but this madness has to end. Unless you can prove to me that Lincoln loved Austen and wrote gushing letters about P&P & S&S & MP etc. to his friend Joshua Speed, I don't need another rehash of his life. And unless Darcy ditches Lizzie, sails to America, holes up in Kentucky, and fathers a kid named Abraham, let it be.
I'm sorry, I just had to vent a little. Now I can resume work on my opus: a post-modern novel about Gerald R. Ford's attempt--during his brief reign as Vice President, when he thought he'd have a lot of time on his hands--to write a sequel to Wuthering Heights in Esperanto.
Howard Tate-Stop
P.S. Just saw that Mary Travers, the Mary of Peter, Paul &, died today. The very first of thousands of all-time favorite songs in my life was "Puff The Magic Dragon."
Peter, Paul and Mary-Puff The Magic Dragon
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