Books Not to Read

This thread is intended to be a more light-hearted break from the socio-political wrangling we often get caught up in. Please don't turn it into a Heller-SJW slapfight. You've said your piece. Please let other people say theirs. If you want to have a more in depth discussion of the problematic nature of Heller's work, please start your own own thread.
I disagree. Unless this thread is intended to merely be a bare list of titles (which in my opinion would be intolerably boring), I think it is completely on-topic to discuss why particular books are undesirable.
 
I disagree. Unless this thread is intended to merely be a bare list of titles (which in my opinion would be intolerably boring), I think it is completely on-topic to discuss why particular books are undesirable.

I thought I did a pretty good job sketching the line between explaining why you didn't like a book and harping on it every time someone else mentions the book. And I think Damion did a pretty good job of communicating that he doesn't just want to explain why he dind't like it, but also wants to browbeat other people for not sharing his viewpoint. I'd like this to be a browbeating-free sharing of opinions about books. There's plenty to argue about here. I'm simply asking, can we not, for once?
 
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I thought I did a pretty good job sketching the line between explaining why you didn't like a book and harping on it every time someone else mentions the book. And I think Damion did a pretty good job of communicating that he doesn't just want to explain why he dind't like it, but also wants to browbeat other people for not sharing his viewpoint. I'd like this to be a browbeating-free sharing of opinions about books. There's plenty to argue about here. I'm simply asking, can we not, for once?
I've re-read the exchange, and for the life of me I can't see anything remotely resembling "browbeating". Rather than derail the thread any further with a detailed argument, I think we should move on.
 
I have read the whole thing. Twice, in fact. (The second time to try and figure out what I missed the first time.) And I still don't know how it ended. The penultimate chapter kind of peters out at the end, then the final chapter is a parody of a science fiction convention.

I'm a fan of Heinlein's work, but Number is frankly a failure.
I did like the whole World as Myth concept - that there are an infinite number of universes, each of which is a product of the imagination of a writer in one of the others - and the idea of a vehicle that could travel between them was cool. I agree that the last couple of chapters were a mess, though.
 
I have read the whole thing. Twice, in fact. (The second time to try and figure out what I missed the first time.) And I still don't know how it ended. The penultimate chapter kind of peters out at the end, then the final chapter is a parody of a science fiction convention.

I'm a fan of Heinlein's work, but Number is frankly a failure. He succeeded occasionally with these steam of events stories that lack coherent structure.

It's his version of Vincent McHugh's Caleb Catlum's America (1936) -- all the characters he liked are all working together. McHugh had the characters from American fable being all part of the same family, immortal, sexually active, comically sprightly. In the end they were all driven out by the faceless bad guys, "The Traders".

Right after the McHugh book came out, it became Heinlein's touchstone for friendship, if you didn't like the book, he didn't want to have anything to do with you. When he got to where he could write what he liked, he did the same thing.

But Philip José Farmer had managed to get it out first with his "Wold Newton" universe, where all the characters he liked from pulp and adventure fiction were all members of the same family, descended from the members of an excursion hosted by Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney who happened to get too close to a radioactive meteor. (Farmer didn't seem to be aware that Baroness Orczy wrote fifteen more books in the series, including one set in the nineteen-twenties with a great-grandson of Percy and Marguerite.)

Farmer's key relationship was that Tarzan and Doc Savage were first cousins. He wrote fictional biographies of them (Tarzan Alive (1972) and Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life (1973)) and a bizarre three book series about two people who are them under different names, of which the first is grossly pornographic (A Feast Unknown (1969)) and the second and third aren't (Lord of the Trees and The Mad Goblin (1970)) and end on an unresolved cliffhanger to boot.

Farmer had to do gross violence to the continuities of the various stories, had a somewhat muddled idea of the British honours system, and as I said, for all that the Blakeneys were supposedly the prime movers in this, their direct descendants don't figure in the story. Worse yet, Farmer fans have extended this; I sort of gave up when I heard that Peter Parker (as in Spider-Man) was a "Wold Newton" descendant. (I suppose a Spider-Man fan will chime in on how great Spidey is. See above about continuity.)

Heinlein didn't have to worry about continuity, because his "Circle of Ouroboros" could time-travel as well as travel between time-lines. As a result, for example, he managed to undo one of the few moving scenes in Methuselah's Children, where Lazarus Long is remembering how much it hurt when his mother died, by first having him become his mother's lover, then saving her life.

Again, as all the characters in Farmer's "Wold Newton" works become Farmer characters, whatever their personalities had been in the original stories, thus all the characters in the "Circle of Ouroboros" stories become Heinlein characters. It doesn't work when young fanboys (or really fangirls) write about Captain Kirk falling in love with Ensign Mary Sue (or Mr. Spock), much less when a writer of skill and experience does it.

:blackcat:
 
It's his version of Vincent McHugh's Caleb Catlum's America (1936) -- all the characters he liked are all working together. McHugh had the characters from American fable being all part of the same family, immortal, sexually active, comically sprightly. In the end they were all driven out by the faceless bad guys, "The Traders".

Right after the McHugh book came out, it became Heinlein's touchstone for friendship, if you didn't like the book, he didn't want to have anything to do with you. When he got to where he could write what he liked, he did the same thing.

But Philip José Farmer had managed to get it out first with his "Wold Newton" universe, where all the characters he liked from pulp and adventure fiction were all members of the same family, descended from the members of an excursion hosted by Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney who happened to get too close to a radioactive meteor. (Farmer didn't seem to be aware that Baroness Orczy wrote fifteen more books in the series, including one set in the nineteen-twenties with a great-grandson of Percy and Marguerite.)

Farmer's key relationship was that Tarzan and Doc Savage were first cousins. He wrote fictional biographies of them (Tarzan Alive (1972) and Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life (1973)) and a bizarre three book series about two people who are them under different names, of which the first is grossly pornographic (A Feast Unknown (1969)) and the second and third aren't (Lord of the Trees and The Mad Goblin (1970)) and end on an unresolved cliffhanger to boot.

Farmer had to do gross violence to the continuities of the various stories, had a somewhat muddled idea of the British honours system, and as I said, for all that the Blakeneys were supposedly the prime movers in this, their direct descendants don't figure in the story. Worse yet, Farmer fans have extended this; I sort of gave up when I heard that Peter Parker (as in Spider-Man) was a "Wold Newton" descendant. (I suppose a Spider-Man fan will chime in on how great Spidey is. See above about continuity.)

Heinlein didn't have to worry about continuity, because his "Circle of Ouroboros" could time-travel as well as travel between time-lines. As a result, for example, he managed to undo one of the few moving scenes in Methuselah's Children, where Lazarus Long is remembering how much it hurt when his mother died, by first having him become his mother's lover, then saving her life.

Again, as all the characters in Farmer's "Wold Newton" works become Farmer characters, whatever their personalities had been in the original stories, thus all the characters in the "Circle of Ouroboros" stories become Heinlein characters. It doesn't work when young fanboys (or really fangirls) write about Captain Kirk falling in love with Ensign Mary Sue (or Mr. Spock), much less when a writer of skill and experience does it.

:blackcat:

Farmer was still finding his voice when he wrote the Wold Newton stories. Riverworld was still a couple years in the future (and yes, I am aware of Farmer's much earlier (and wince-worthy) attempt to tell the Riverword story. I really enjoyed Lord of the Trees and the Mad Goblin but mostly because they were such crazy stories. There was some fight scene where Tarzan kills somebody and he becomes helpless himself, because the kill made him orgasm.

Alan Moore did much the same thing with the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen; brought together characters like Mycroft Holmes, the Invisible Man, Mr Hyde, Alan Quartermain, Mina Harker, and Captain Nemo.

Actually now that I think about it, Riverworld is the same thing, except with (mostly) real people from history.
 
... a bizarre three book series about two people who are them under different names, of which the first is grossly pornographic (A Feast Unknown (1969)) and the second and third aren't (Lord of the Trees and The Mad Goblin (1970)) and end on an unresolved cliffhanger to boot.


Grossly pornographic?! Just because it begins with a detective watching a snuff film of vampires eating somebody's genitals? :)
(Or was that a different Farmer novel?)
 
Lev Grossman's The Magicians stood out from the crowd. I started reading it on Kindle Unlimited - some dross there but also some good stuff from good old ripping yarns to some quality. Here is the first sentence: (case preserved)
QUENCTIN DID A magic trick.

The protagonist's name is Quentin. <drops mike>

From there we proceed to an exposition of his favourite books which are a thin veneer over Narnia. It's extra thin because it's so stretched out. At that point the faint warning bells had turned into full tinnitus with fire alarms.
 
Thank you for posting this.

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine...ifesto/302270/

Good article, mostly agree. I wish he hadn't used Stephen King as an example of a worthy but unpretentious writer, though.

In one of King's recent novels, the plot centered on a manuscript by a J. D. Salinger-like reclusive novelist. It would have been a great opportunity for King to write a few pages of that manuscript in a style different from his own, in a Salinger-like style, for instance. King didn't write those passages. Why? He doesn't have the range, talent, or temperament. As his stature as some kind of eminence grise has grown, his books have gotten worse. They don't parody Consumerland, they are Consumerland.
 
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Not exactly books not to read, but I recently read a couple of Conan Doyle's historical novels, Sir Nigel and The White Company. I'm not saying they weren't pleasant enough to read in a fairly lightweight way, but I spent half the time I was reading them thinking, "He killed Sherlock Holmes off for this?!"

Dave
 
https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine...ifesto/302270/

Good article, mostly agree. I wish he hadn't used Stephen King as an example of a worthy but unpretentious writer, though.

In one of King's recent novels, the plot centered on a manuscript by a J. D. Salinger-like reclusive novelist. It would have been a great opportunity for King to write a few pages of that manuscript in a style different from his own, in a Salinger-like style, for instance. King didn't write those passages. Why? He doesn't have the range, talent, or temperament. As his stature as some kind of eminence grise has grown, his books have gotten worse. They don't parody Consumerland, they are Consumerland.

Too bad he didn't try, a King parody of Salinger sounds pretty funny. "This crummy house is haunted by phoneys!"
 
Some of the writing Meyers objects to seems to be reaching for poetry that is partly nonsensical. This poem by Dylan Thomas is at the limit of what I can accept, because it maybe makes some kind of sense. I go back and forth on this. Maybe there's too much love of sheer booziness here? And yet scientist Richard Fortey likes this poem and quotes it* with approval. After all, it's a poem and it's short and it's an expression of passion by a well-known scoundrel, so it's ok.

Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.


*__Life__ pg. 50
 
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Grossly pornographic?! Just because it begins with a detective watching a snuff film of vampires eating somebody's genitals? :)
(Or was that a different Farmer novel?)

And ends with the two principal characters pulling each other's genitalia off?

Well!

:blackcat:
 
Totally disagree, its the only Rand work anyone should read on account of it being mercifully short.


It's actually worth reading, as it's the most concise and effective presentation of her philosophy, such as it is, without the rape scenes or interminable monologues and lectures. After that, the rest can be safely ignored.
 
It's actually worth reading, as it's the most concise and effective presentation of her philosophy, such as it is, without the rape scenes or interminable monologues and lectures. After that, the rest can be safely ignored.

Thank FSM for that. I was afraid I was going to have to read more of that sort of crap in order to really get the point she was trying to make.

Dave
 
And my own contribution: anything by Clive Cussler. I read one and actually felt embarrassed for him.

I actually like Clive Cussler... his books are awesome to read while I was travelling... on bumpy roads... and where it's not really important if you jump a couple of sentences forward or backward... just lovely timepass with no actual thinking required.
 

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