Still Up

Oh, forgot to say: You can always find something quote-quote funny in the National Post Toronto's neo-conservative hipster oxymoron of choice. Yesterday, it was an entire article about how Oprah is single-handedly steering America towards lazy, sentimental books which ended up using as "proof" of this thesis the pretty-much indefensible idea that Cormac McCarthy is a bad writer. "And now they've made The Road into a movie and this guy's going to make millions, and he sucks!" Holy shit, get over yourself, you amazing fucking loser (whoever the hell you are...ie, some dude who's been published by Soft Skull Press, but whose name means less than nothing to me).

He had a far stronger argument to cling to when he pointed out that Oprah has thus far been fooled not just by James Frey, but also by two other greedy opportunists trying to pass fiction off as non- since then (fake Holocaust memoirs, no less). But really, man, what the hell: So, I guess that means Joyce Carol Oates is obviously a bad writer by default, huh? And Tolstoy?