sad

Alain Robbe-Grillet died today. He wrote one of my favorite books, Les Gommes. He said once: “The art of the novel, however, has fallen into such a state of stagnation - a lassitude acknowledged and discussed by the whole of critical opinion - that it is hard to imagine such an art can survive for long without some radical change. To many, the solution seems simple enough: such a change being impossible, the art of the novel is dying.”

I agree. My own mother, an english teacher, reads in one or two sittings those awful "chick-lit" novels that all have the same plot, just a different location. Is the reason why we aren't creating great novels because we aren't reading great works? I wonder how high the sales of trashy magazines are to the sales of great works of literature. The New York Times Bestseller list is something that formerly was a highly respected litmus test of literary standards. And I'm sure many people still do vest a lot of value in topping the list, but at what cost? It seems that the books that top the list are all books on weight loss, or the failings of our government. Nothing that stirs the soul, nothing that inspires change in humanity.

I'm going to go read Love in the Time of Cholera.