On a busy European street, the killer serpentined through a crowd. He was a powerful man. Dark and potent. Deceptively agile. His muscles still felt hard from the thrill of his meeting.
I just read through that whole thread (thanks for the link!), trying to think of books I'm embarrassed to have liked. I happy to say I never fell for Ayn Rand, I always hated Piers Anthony, I enjoyed Anne McCaffrey (but always knew it was smutty trash for the preteen dragon-loving set), and I refuse to feel bad about Heinlein (although in my defense, I have no slavish devotion to him, either.)
I think I'm left with Tolkien (not that it's bad, it's just not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 9) and, of course... Douglas Adams.
I'm surprised no one mentioned him on that thread. It's particularly embarrassing because I didn't just enjoy them as harmless parody - I really admired him on a philosophical level! Mea culpa.
Hm, I'm still not embarrassed to like Tolkien or Adams.
In fact, Douglas Adams bears partial responsibility for my current outlook on life (and in particular, my skeptical approach to just about everything), and I don't think that's necessarily bad. There are a lot of worse things I could've read when I was 12.
However, I used to like Marion Zimmer Bradley more than I really care to admit. I still think that The Mists of Avalon is a good book, but, to borrow your expression, not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 16.
Oh, I have, and yes, it is. However, that's pretty much what I thought about it at the time—I just happened to read it at a point in my life where I was starting to think skeptically about things, and it was a great comfort in that respect.
Hey, I'm not claiming that Mists is great literature or nuthin'. It's still a fun story, though, even if Gwenhwyfar IS a whiny bitch.
The humor has dated in a way that's hard to define, and I recall one critic pointing out his tendency to lean on Ultra this and Mega that when he couldn't think of a joke.
I had the mixed pleasure recently of listening to the entire radio series, as it was posted to USENET, during/following the posting of the final two phases of the radio drama. It was at times quite sluggish, with humor that seemed forced (to my ear, no doubt after hearing the same bit murdered by a hundred nerds since I read the book (and, I regret to say, probably laying a few such bits to rest myself)) with interminable periods where I just wanted the plot to move having completely lost patience for the latest interruption or digression from the Book.
*inhale*
But then the plot made me long for an amusing voyage of the mind to that planet where the plane was waiting for the rise of civilization so they could take on lemon-scented towels, or whatnot, because, here I was, listening to Arthur explain tea to the nutrimat, for the 12th time, and the frustration just grew...
At his best, Douglas Adams was a fine satirist and had a good point to make here and there. When his heart wasn't in it, he could be dreadful. And his best-known work has been dulled by popular repetition, much like the best jokes of Monty Python.
Heinlein's early-to-middle work is one masterpiece of lean, economical adventure storytelling after another, just as long as you don't take the philosophy too seriously. The late stuff is increasingly bloated, cranky and generally embarrassing. And while it isn't a popular opinion, I think you can see the rot start to set in in none other than Stranger in a Strange Land (though a few years later he was still capable of writing The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, probably his single best novel).
The comparison of Douglas Adams to Monty Python is a good one. I have enjoyed both considerably on my own... but once you start to hear other people "nerding out" on them, throwing lines back and forth out of context, rehashing all the less subtle moments, or engaging in long debates about minor points... it starts to get a little embarrassing.
Some time ago I discovered that if you watch a Monty Python's Flying Circus episode after not having consumed any Monty Python for a period of at least ten years, it is hilarious.
I'll often take a deliberate break from favorite books, TV shows, or music for this very reason. Familiarity does breed contempt for these things (for music, anyway; I read some studies about it a couple of years ago by a couple of researchers who were trying to figure out why the popularity of hit singles tends to follow a bell curve). After awhile, even favorite stuff can get old.
A good thing, too. There'd be no incentive for creative innovation otherwise.
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I think I'm left with Tolkien (not that it's bad, it's just not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 9) and, of course... Douglas Adams.
I'm surprised no one mentioned him on that thread. It's particularly embarrassing because I didn't just enjoy them as harmless parody - I really admired him on a philosophical level! Mea culpa.
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In fact, Douglas Adams bears partial responsibility for my current outlook on life (and in particular, my skeptical approach to just about everything), and I don't think that's necessarily bad. There are a lot of worse things I could've read when I was 12.
However, I used to like Marion Zimmer Bradley more than I really care to admit. I still think that The Mists of Avalon is a good book, but, to borrow your expression, not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 16.
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All I can say is, take another look at Hitchhiker's Guide, if you haven't since you were twelve. It's still funny, it's just... a little sophmoric.
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Hey, I'm not claiming that Mists is great literature or nuthin'. It's still a fun story, though, even if Gwenhwyfar IS a whiny bitch.
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*inhale*
But then the plot made me long for an amusing voyage of the mind to that planet where the plane was waiting for the rise of civilization so they could take on lemon-scented towels, or whatnot, because, here I was, listening to Arthur explain tea to the nutrimat, for the 12th time, and the frustration just grew...
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Heinlein's early-to-middle work is one masterpiece of lean, economical adventure storytelling after another, just as long as you don't take the philosophy too seriously. The late stuff is increasingly bloated, cranky and generally embarrassing. And while it isn't a popular opinion, I think you can see the rot start to set in in none other than Stranger in a Strange Land (though a few years later he was still capable of writing The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, probably his single best novel).
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A good thing, too. There'd be no incentive for creative innovation otherwise.