When Authors Get Their Ego In The Way

I have made a decision to not identify the author or her book in this review because authors of this ilk have fragile egos and in the current literary atmosphere we find ourselves, social justice warriors and their followers are not happy until they have destroyed their opposition. Disagreement is no longer allowed, only scorched earth.

At the last World Fantasy Con in Baltimore I was given an uncorrected proof of a collection of stories from an author that had the following blurbs: 

Wow! This is gonna be some book!

Looks like I'm going to read prose that will make angels weep with jealousy!

So to say I was excited about this author would be an understatement. Let’s be honest. Endorsements, as you’ve just seen, are ones that put the book on a high pedestal. 

(Sigh) Allow me to assure you that King, Koontz, and Straub are in no danger of losing their titles as writers of horror and though the author described may be leaving her footprints on the path of the luminaries listed, unless she decides to make some dramatic literary changes to her style, she will never catch up, let alone reach the end of the trail. 

The collection consists of twelve stories. Some are solidly dark fantasy. Only one or two have anything to do with the genre of horror. Others? … more like a stream of consciousness that has little to do with the actual art of storytelling. The elements of a story are the characters, the setting, the plot, the conflict, and the resolution. The first two elements in this collection are always present. The plot at times can be a little muddy as there are times the author is so in love with her prose, she loses the plotline. 

Conflict? Some of the stories have a discernible conflict, especially when she wants to use the story as a bully pulpit (more on that later). 

And resolution? Some of the stories have one. Others just simply end. 

But the worst part of the collection are two stories that, with ham-fisted effect, she lets loose on anybody she disagrees with politically or socially. If you have any other opinion, let me assure you that she sees you as an unredeemable monster incapable of human affection. Her damnation is relentless and as subtle as a crowbar. 

My problem is not with her politics or social observations. My problem is not that the author addresses her issues in her stories. Great literature deals with social ills and political observations, but when you use your story to shame your reader who may disagree with you, one who is a captive audience and has spent money to read your work, the end result is not that you have made your point or changed the reader’s mind. 

The end result is something that I will have only done four times in my sixty-four years on this planet: throw away a book because it has no redeeming qualities whatsoever and its purpose is not to entertain but to bring a "message" that is actually an insult. It is nothing more than the author's temper tantrum over life refusing to go her way.

There are issues, viewpoints, and paradigms I very strongly believe in and as an author I address many of them in my own stories, but the difference between me and the aforementioned author is that I have a great sense of respect for my readers and that I am deeply grateful when somebody buys one of my books, even if that reader may be opposed to something that I hold dear or even defines me. I am not so in love with myself that I actually believe I can use my prose to beat home a point and that I have even earned a position where my reader should even bother to listen to me. 

There are so many books in this world. I regret I wasted a few evenings on this one.