On subjectivity

26 May

And so we went off to the Merry Hell Centre soon after I closed down yesterday. The drive over there was a nice easy run and Jan did her usual superb job of driving it. We spent a pleasant couple of hours there with Jan buying herself three new skirts and I got myself five new books, Including the new Peter James, Roy Grace story. On the recommendation of the assistant who also bought The Cartel by Don Winslow. I should have had a look at it properly first I suppose. The font is really small and along with just short of 700 pages, that one is going to be loooooong read. 

I also went into the Works, and came out with another of their 3for£5 offers. That adds a Peter Robinson, Iain Banks and a Jo Nesbo to me TBR (to be read) pile. I like four of these writers but Winslow I haven’t read before. We all have our favourite writers of course, but when does a good book become a great book? What is that magical ‘something’ that takes the mundane to greatness? Of course, if we writers knew that wee secret, then we would all be writing great books. The great would then become the mundane and we would all be looking yet again for that ‘something’ magical to lift it out of the sea of books out there.

Of course, this is all down to subjectivity again. Brand loyalty will also play a part of course, with author name taking the place Apple or Microsoft, or whatever. It’s like that Peter James story I bought yesterday, Love You Dead; it’s his latest release and his last four I have bought on, or close to the release date, something I will continue to do. On the shelf close by there was a Harlan Corban, John Grisham and a number of others I like, But I kept to the Peter James brand.

Sometime ago I bought The Wasp Factory, by Iain Banks. It was his first published book and it got slatted in the media when it appeared on the shelves. Yet I loved it, and so did me old mate Bill Howe. But was it just a good book, as opposed to a great book? Subjectivity plays that part. There have other times when I have disagreed with the critics of the day. One instant I remember was in the mid-1970s when I saw a review of a Bob Shaw book called,         

A Wreath of Stars. One critic said that Shaw had thrown everything he could reach into the story, including the kitchen sink. I read it and wondered if I had the book they were writing about.

The same happens with telly shows, usually when they say a show is great, and I hated them. Now I just don’t bother with them. American comedy shows are top of the list for this one, followed by the crop of so-called comedians that we Brits have to put with. I wonder just how much of their success is down to on-going publicity that the media gives them. What has happened to our own critical minds? Or are so many of us so used to follow the crowd and desperately want to be part of the ‘in crowd’ that we suspend our own senses? ‘Dumbing down’ is a term I’ve heard of lot of lately, but in this case, it’s the general population that is being dumbed down!

Today’s photo …

The invader, or Spanish bluebell.

Today’s funny …

A wife said to her husband when he returned from work, "I have some exciting news for you. Soon there's going to be three of us in this house instead of two."
The husband ran to her and hugged her. He was glowing with happiness, but then his wife said, "I'm glad you're are so happy about my mother coming to stay with us."