As Literature Dies...

When I was in 4th grade I started reading Stephen King. I eventually read all the horror greats. As I grew older my choice in books expanded. I read everything that I could get my hands on. Vonnegut, Dostovesky, Dickens, Bradbury...name it.

I regret to inform you that literature is dying. It's been dying for a long time. We didn't catch the cancer in time.

Borders, Barnes & Nobles, Penguin, Random House, Dell, Ballantine...gigantic corporation dictate what we read.

So, you're a rebel. You walk into a bookstore looking for that anarcho-nihilist literature that separates you from the herd of the weaker portion of humanity. Sitting on a stand is the new book by Chuck Palahnuik. You're definitely going to buy it. After all, Fight Club was so fucking cool. But before you even picked up the book Random House already knew that you would. They own Anchor books and pay good money for you to see that book. Companies pay good money to keep their books up front.

(Don't worry. I'm a guilty party in this charade.)

Guilty as charged, dear reader! I am guilty of judging a book by its cover. And that's what they rely on.

To be continued when I'm more pissed off...

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