Publishing Has Gone to the Dogs

Being an English major, English teacher, and an overall aficionado of the written word, I have to say I am quite disgusted by what people are calling “good books” these days.

For example, I, quite frankly, refuse to read anything that will not either match or exceed my intelligence level. Now, we are not talking about magazines. Those don’t count. I am talking books. Literature that I would like to spend part of my minuscule paycheck on.

However, I find myself frustrated whenever I look at what they call the “bestsellers list.” The bestsellers list has almost always been synonymous with “good books.” Everyone knows this is the easiest way to find a book to read; many want to read what others are reading because they are in the loop and they will know what is being discussed on Oprah. But now... now... my trusty tool for finding good literature has been transformed into something that makes me dumber just looking at it.

Whoever thought that allowing something like a Snookie publish a book must have been enjoying some ‘shrooms because, in all honesty, it is an insult to anyone who has ever fought tooth and nail to have a book, or anything for that matter, published. I know a few people who have gone through the painful process of being rejected and told to edit for the 345903480589th time, all the while knowing this edit will still not make the difference. I myself have considered writing a book, but just thinking about the arduous process makes me think I should wait until I have more that about 8 hours of free time during the week.

But it pains me to think that people who are famous for being slutty lushes can write a book, and people would want to read it. Not just read it, anyone could do that, but BUY it.

I am sure the book is about the triumphs and tribulations of living in Jersey with a middle class Italian family and “ohwoeismeiwasoverlookedallmylife” whines. Oh, and let’s throw something like an eating disorder in there too so she has something to actually talk about while promoting this future find at the dime store.

There are plenty of celebrities who have published books that I would like to read. Keith Richards’ autobiography looks intriguing with plenty of history behind it, and anything by Chelsea Handler is obviously raunchy but still well-written and witty. And she worked to get there. For years.

But people who step in, star in a reality show, and now can do whatever they want? It simply doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t care if they start a label, do a makeup line, have a gross perfume, whatever. Publishing and the written word is sacred. It shouldn’t be easy. It shouldn’t be available to anyone with a perversely patient editor, I’m sure, and a computer.

Whether I end up publishing something someday or not, it doesn’t matter. I love book stores either way. I love literature. I love creativity and originality. I certainly do not like my literature with a side of Snookie.