Thursday 13 December 2012

Yet more dead good books

Today's book trade e-newsletter from The Bookseller delivers the sensational assertion that Ghostwriting Is The Future Of Literature, apropos of Wilbur Smith's alleged plans to outsource the actual writing element of his future book production.  This might have led me to think about the philosophical implications of identity and the nature of creativity, perhaps alluding to the New Critics' assertion of authorial insignificance, and pausing to wonder about the validity of comparing this writing system to, for example, those great fine artists of the past who directed their apprentices to produce or prepare particular sections of their paintings.

Instead, I imagined a crack squad of scribblers in the post-life stage, gathered in a trans-dimensional garret, eagerly awaiting their next assignments. Each a specialist in their particular genre, they would include:

For rip-roaring militaristic techno yarns: Phantom Clancy

To provide moral guidance through anthropomorphic children's stories: The Revenant Wilbert Awdry

For wry poetic quips, Shaderian Henri...

...and for more substantial verse, Sylphia Plath

To add a Caribbean flavour, and furnish the occasional Charlotte Brontë prequel, Jinn Rhys

And finally, supplying free-wheeling, hallucinogenic political insight, Haunter S. Thompson.


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