Far be it from me to tell anyone what to read or what not to read. I would never do that. But my edgy alter ego, Ridley, would. (Ridley gets me punched a lot.)
Below is a list of what I… I mean Ridley... believes are better alternatives to several popular and classic books.
(Warning:Literary – and literal – sacrilege ahead.)
READHam on Rye, NOT The Catcher in the Rye. When it comes to the classic male coming-of-age novel, most sane people think J.D. Salinger, not Charles Bukowski. But sanity shouldn’t factor in when talking about males coming of age. Bukowski’s Ham on Rye does a better job than The Catcher in the Rye of capturing the angst, isolation and hormonal madness of a teen boy trying to make his way in the world. I mean, wouldn’t you rather read about a gritty kid coming of age in Los Angeles during the Great Depression than about a pompous rich kid whining about his charmed life while playing hooky from prep school?
READ Hope: A Tragedy, NOT Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl.Perhaps this one is more of a “read this AFTER that,” as who in their right mind would ever diss Ms. Frank’s legendary diary. Hope: A Tragedy, however, is definitely the funnier of the two books, and we could all use a few laughs these days. It’s a fictional tale about how Anne Frank secretly survived the Holocaust and is living in the attic of a modern-day family’s farmhouse in rural New York. The book is as touching as it is uproarious and irreverent, and, unlike The Diary of a Young Girl, it does not require the reader to have an entire case of Kleenex or any Zoloft on hand when they get to the end.
READ The Golden or The Shake or Enter, Night or Blood Vice, NOT Twilight. Some people might think that the Twilight books have been picked on enough on this blog over the past year, but those people would be incorrect. If you’re looking for a vampire book truly worthy of the paper it’s printed on (or the Kindle it’s being read on), you can’t go wrong with any of the Twilight alternatives listed above. You may have never heard of them, but trust me, each features exquisite writing and compelling storytelling. And yes, plenty of delicious, nutritious blood.
READ the back of a cereal box, NOT Fifty Shades of Grey. No, I’m not some sexual deviant who gets aroused by what I read on the back of cereal boxes… well, except for Grape-Nuts of course. And if you are really paying attention, you shouldn’t get aroused by what you read in Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s not that I have anything personal against author E.L. James; it’s that I have something personal against really poorly devised erotica – and all of the houses, cars and islands Ms. James is now able to buy because of it.
READ any Chuck Palahniuk novel, though NOT without consulting a physician first. Palahniuk’s work is a big reason why I became a fiction writer – that and the fact that I’m virtually unhireable. He is the master of darkly comedic transgressive fiction, and his stories cause just enough brain damage to make you interesting and compel you to never pick up a copy of Twilight or 50 Shades of Grey again. There have been reports of audience members passing out during his public readings, so if you have a weak heart or were raised in the Midwest, ask your doctor if she/he thinks it’s safe for you to read a Palahniuk novel. If she/he says no, find a new doctor.
READ The Old Testament, NOT The New Testament. While neither of these books is a beach read, at least all the sinners who are murdered and massacred in the Old Testament no longer have to fear the wrath of God once they’re dead and buried. That book’s God is perfectly content just to have them out of the picture. In the New Testament, however, God’s hell-bent on bringing the pain to sinners for all eternity. Death isn’t the end, it’s God just getting warmed up. It’s all a bit heavy handed. I appreciate the authors’ (note the plural possessive) intention, but a mere mortal reader can handle only so much violence and damnation. Never mind the success of Game of Thrones. READ Notes on an Orange Burial, NOT A Confederacy of Dunces. Don’t get me wrong, I loved A Confederacy of Dunces, it’s just that my lame alter ego, Greg, doesn’t get any royalties whenever somebody buys a copy of it. Notes on an Orange Burial, on the other hand, was Greg’s debut novel, and has drawn comparisons to Dunces from numerous readers – some of whom Greg didn’t even ask, “Doesn’t my book remind you a little of A Confederacy of Dunces?” READ The Exit Man, NOT whatever you're reading now. C’mon, you had to have seen that one coming.
For those of you who were upset and/or angered by my… I mean RIDLEY’S post, fear not – this was the last time he’ll be guest-blogging here. My new medication seems to be working.
I’d like to think I’m a courageous man, but let’s face it, I’m a fiction writer. I lie, fabricate and embellish for a living. All while sitting at home in my pajamas.
And still I’m afraid. Despite spending most of my time with imaginary people over whom I have complete and utter control, I live in constant fear. Of what, you ask? I’m scared to say, but only a real ass would bring it up in a blog and then not elaborate.
So, without further unnecessary buildup, following are my biggest fears as an author:
Opening one of my novels after it's been published. Few things are more frightening than spotting a typo in a book you’ve put out into the world and that dozens of friends and family members might actually read.
Having only my mother show up to a book signing. Thank goodness this has never happened to me. My father, wife and daughter were there, too.
Losing a hand. I’ve tried typing one-handed before, as well using a speech-to-text device, but both methods resulted in text that was about as readable as a book by Stephenie Meyer.
Succumbing to the temptation to write what people want to read rather than the story stuck in my soul. I’m terrified of compromising my artistic principles for fame and money. Oh, how I wish a zombie apocalypse was stuck in my soul.
Having a cat ruin my manuscript. With two cats very fond of laptops, and a writing office with no real doors, this is a daily threat in my house. Plus, both cats are dicks.
Meeting Chuck Palahniuk at an event and accidentally talking about Fight Club. The first rule of meeting Chuck Palahniuk at an event is you don’t talk about Fight Club. But I have some pressing questions for him I don’t think I’d be able to stifle.
Not realizing one of my nipples is showing in a bio photo. Yeah, I know, revealing a nipple would likely only help book sales, but still.
Accidentally thanking cancer during my acceptance speech for a book award. Terminal illness turns my protagonist into a hero in my latest novel and the one I’m currently writing. If I were to win a major award for either book, I can’t promise in all the excitement I wouldn’t sing the praises of adenocarcinoma or the like.
Getting killed by a character from one of my abandoned manuscripts. Oh, you don’t think a fictional being from an unfinished book could come to life and seek revenge on the writer? That’s because you’re sane, you lucky bastard.
Going to hell and finding out I must spend all eternity writing book synopses. This one is too horrifying to even elaborate on. Having one of my novels made into a movie by the same guy who directed the 1995 rendition of The Scarlet Letter. Demi Moore is fine on a stripper pole or in the Marines, but for the love of literature please keep her out of my book’s adaptation.
Finding out I have only three months to live when I’m six months away from completing a manuscript. I hate feeling rushed when I write. Also, I hate not having a say in cover art. Thus, this one would be a little scarier than some of the others.
Having my teenage daughter tell me she wants to be an author. After paying what will turn out to be a king’s ransom for her education, I’m petrified my daughter will take after me and make an exerted effort to be poor. To help fend against this, whenever I catch her reading a book or writing in her room, I tell her to knock it off and get back to Instagram or Netflix.
Having my teenage daughter’s books outsell mine. Like any father, I want my daughter to succeed. However, like any author, I secretly want all other authors to fail and go into real estate. In my daughter’s case, I’d want her to fail and go into reality TV or Oregon marijuana sales – you know, where the money is.
Writers do not feel at home in cars, unless they happen to live in theirs, which is true for only about thirty percent of writers. When a writer is in a car (that they don’t live in), it means they are not at home or at the cafe or in the mental institution doing what they do best. Time spent driving is time away from creating.
Writers in cars are also dangerous, as the vast majority spend their time thinking about their current book or coming up with an idea for another rather than paying attention to other vehicles, traffic lights, pedestrians or oceans. Studies show that 78 percent of all traffic fatalities are caused by daydreaming authors.
To help writers express themselves while driving, as well as to alert other drivers that a vehicle in front of them contains a writer, I’ve come up with 25 bumper stickers specifically for men and women of letters:
1) Driver makes frequent plot twists.
2) Honk if you hate missppelings.
3) Cut me off and get killed in my next novel.
4) Crazy on board.
5) Your kid’s an honor student? Big deal – let me know when he finishes a manuscript.
6) If you can read this, you’re too close… but at least you can read. Buy my book.
7) The whales are fine – save the poets.
8) Write the book you want to read in the world.
9) Forget my driving – how’s my writing?
10) Jesus reads!
11) I brake for muses.
12) My other car is ALSO a piece of shit – I’m a writer.
13) What would Cormac do?
14) If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention… or you’ve never read any of the Twilight books.
15) Driver has write of way.
16) Stop honking! I’m trying to come up with a title.
17) I’d rather be signing books.
18) Character development in progress.
19) You’re driving behind me because I wrote it that way.
20) Objects in mirror may be more fictional than they appear.
21) Guns don’t kill people, crime writers do.
22) Don’t text and drive – unless you're finishing up a chapter.
23) Stay off my ass and you’ll stay out of my book.
24) Yeah, I passed you – you drive like my novel sells.
And this last one is to help subliminally sell my latest novel: 25) Are you sure you didn’t miss the exit, man?
While I’m busy turning the above statements into large adhesive stickers, feel free to share some of your own writer bumper sticker ideas in the comments section below.
Writing a novel is easy; choosing the title is hard. It’s like trying to capture the essence of a soul in six words or less.
A good title can instantly propel a book into the limelight and firmly establish it as a lasting literary treasure. A bad title can get a book punched.
Below are the titles of some of the most famous novels of all time, each followed by an alleged alternative title that, fortunately, was shot down just prior to the book’s publication.
The Great Gatsby. Crazy for Daisy
Catcher in the Rye. Whiny White Kid Without a Cause
Crime and Punishment. Die, Bitch Pawnbroker, Die
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Two Rednecks Save a Slave
The Stranger. Senseless Murder in the Sand
A Farewell to Arms. War and Piece of Ass
Animal Farm. The Bacon Rebellion
Lord of the Flies. Boys Gone Wild
Atlas Shrugged. Reader Winced
Metamorphosis. Why You Buggin?
To Kill a Mockingbird. Rape, Racism and that Rascal Mr. Radley
Lolita. The Charming Pedophile
Tropic of Cancer. Sex and Drinking and Sex and Writing and Sex in Paris
The Picture of Dorian Gray. Forever Young and Homicidal
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.Tripping Balls
The Lord of the Rings. The Nerd Bible
Brave New World. Gimme ‘Soma’ Loving
The Grapes of Wrath. Eat My Dust
Finnegan’s Wake. Joyce’s Jibberish
Naked Lunch. Tripping Balls: The Next Generation
Gravity’s Rainbow. WTF: A Novel
The Shining. Living It Up at The Hotel Colorado
The Road. A Very Bad Trip to the Beach
Life of Pi. Oars and Roars Toward Distant Shores
Fight Club. What We Talk About When We Don’t Talk About Fight Club
The Hunger Games. A Future Without Child Protective Services
Gone Girl. You Go, Girl.
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. I Seriously Need to Get Over Myself
Eat, Pray, Love. Gorge, Beg, Screw
As for my own novel, The Exit Man (about a party supply store owner who leads a double life as a euthanasia specialist), several alternative titles were given serious consideration before the drugs wore off, including:
·Helium: It’s Not Just for Celebrating Anymore ·Your Friendly Neighborhood Suicide Guide ·Neunundneunzig Black Balloons
Your turn. Share some of your own alternative titles for famous novels in the comments section below. Do it!
You can’t write a darkly comic novel about euthanasia and then act surprised when you receive a letter from a reader. But I CAN act surprised after reading the letter (okay, the email) I received from one woman who recently finished reading ‘The Exit Man.’ I CAN act surprised because I WAS. I AM. The woman – who, sadly, just lost her mother – didn’t lambast me for writing a subversive and sardonic book about death and dying. She didn’t take out any of her anger or sadness over her mother’s passing on me, as I might have expected… and would have understood. No, instead she THANKED me. Not only that, the letter itself was so wonderfully written – at once touching and a tad twisted. Heartbreaking and humorous. Basically, it was one of the best things I’ve read in a while.(And not JUST because she praised my novel.)
I was so intrigued and moved by the note, I asked the woman who wrote it (her name is Simone) for permission to publish it on my blog. She responded with a prompt and enthusiastic “yes,” and I am very grateful she did. Her words are worthy of being read by more than just a sicko fiction writer like me.
Hi Greg,
I just finished The Exit Man. I really, really enjoyed it. Your ability to pull the rug out from under a reader is fantastic. Wonderful twists and turns – like the ones on Space Mountain, they were deliciously well hidden.
Okay, so I read your section about the author, now here is a little something about the reader…
I lost my mother a little over a month ago. She and I shared a passion for reading. She could read in many different languages. A clever Brit who taught until the ripe old age of 70. She died one day shy of her 71st birthday, but then I knew she wouldn't spoil her actual birthday.
Unlike the folks who needed Eli's help, my mother was 100% independent five months ago. She took a fall down some stairs and broke her neck. A Halloween-loving roller-skater and avid knitter, she became paralyzed from her accident, unable to breathe on her own or move anything but one shoulder. Then, her voice was stripped away from her by a ventilator and, after further complications, a traech tube.
Why am I telling you all of this? I loved your story because it hit home. While my mother's circumstances did not involve disease, she had to fight for the right to do what she wanted with her life. I knew on day 53 that she was unlikely to recover and that we would lose her. She was not coming home. Stuck in a broken body, with her mind still intact, she knew it too. While others played cheerleader and drill sergeant around her, willing her to live, she knew that their definition of living was vastly different from what she was willing to accept. She was not a sit-around kinda girl. Those who knew her well knew she lived life with a shout!
It took her four months to take the reins back from those who refused to accept her fate and continually overrode her wishes. I stayed clear of the battlefield, choosing to spend our time together just as we always had. I knew that eventually she would prevail. She was always a clever girl. I am a champion lip reader now. She asked me on more than one occasion to help her escape. I suppose draping a coat over her and finding a pair of wheels to scoot her out would have been the easy part. What then? Attach her to my Dyson vacuum? We laughed about that.
She was annoyed that she was going to die as a result of such an ordinary accident. I promised her to have a much more dramatic demise. Eaten by an alligator perhaps or getting run over by a bus driver who shares my first name. She liked the former idea.
As the end neared, she asked for a party instead of a funeral. She asked me to tell all in attendance about the importance of Advanced Directives. She had planned on writing hers, but each year she was distracted by some other distraction – a trip, learning Mandarin, teaching a group of welders how to speak English. Something!
A few of my friends thought I should wait to read your book – given the subject matter. I wanted you to know that it was precisely the right book at the right time. A brilliant work of fiction (unless you do own a party store with a shrinking helium inventory) that collided with an important time in my life. I loved your book and my mother would have too. I'm sure she was reading along over my shoulder!
It's funny – I thought about how when it comes to people, we refer to them in the possessive but at the end of the day, one's life has but one owner. I never once questioned my mother's decision to refuse medical treatment. She wanted out. She wanted to be free from forced life support. I will forever admire her for having the courage to go on her own terms. It was a privilege to be her daughter.
As for any other feedback on your novel, I am a giant Mr. Magoo fan and a former criminal defense attorney. You nailed both Magoo and the evidentiary components of your story. The police part at the end was a bit of a stretch, but one that did not detract from a satisfying ending to a great story.
I will look forward to reading more from you!
Best,
Simone
It’s always nice to connect with a reader – especially one who could easily have wanted to punch me in the face. Simone, your mother was an AMAZING woman. I don’t even have to have met her to know that. Your note said it all.
