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Read this while sitting in the basement of the Camden, NJ courthouse, wearing my Juror badge, and trying not to hear CNN's droningly repetitive news coverage (although, have you seen the image of all the dead birds in Arkansas? Jesus, the plagues have begun) and I picked it because it was pocket-sized and figured to be an easy read. Which it was. Not to say it was particularly fulfilling or interesting. There are a handful of pages in here that have legitimate, useful writing advice, although mostly for novices and not for people like me who have been through the whole creative writing workshop wringer. But, okay, fine, there's some good stuff in there.
The rest is overwrought in a very Bradburian way, and littered with exclamation points, usually punctuating sentences about how amazing it is to be writing. The stories behind his writing kind of cheapen the actual work a bit, ie- "Did you know that in the [Irish] cinemas each night just an instant before the Irish National Anthem is due to explode its rhythms, there is a terrible surge and outflux as people fight to escape through the exits so as not to hear the dread music again? It happens. I saw it. I ran with them. Now I have done it as a play. 'The Anthem Sprinters.' " Forgive me if I suggest that that play is probably terrible.
But I know Bradbury is a little hit-and-miss by design anyway and the whole point of this book seems to be to just share the infectious energy of loving writing, and in that respect it succeeds, kind of.
The terrible poetry at the end, though, that was a mistake.
The rest is overwrought in a very Bradburian way, and littered with exclamation points, usually punctuating sentences about how amazing it is to be writing. The stories behind his writing kind of cheapen the actual work a bit, ie- "Did you know that in the [Irish] cinemas each night just an instant before the Irish National Anthem is due to explode its rhythms, there is a terrible surge and outflux as people fight to escape through the exits so as not to hear the dread music again? It happens. I saw it. I ran with them. Now I have done it as a play. 'The Anthem Sprinters.' " Forgive me if I suggest that that play is probably terrible.
But I know Bradbury is a little hit-and-miss by design anyway and the whole point of this book seems to be to just share the infectious energy of loving writing, and in that respect it succeeds, kind of.
The terrible poetry at the end, though, that was a mistake.