Warning: Self-Pitying Rant AheadHere's a novel idea: Maybe I should start an "I Hate Oprah" book club, to counter the outrageously unfair Oprah phenomenon. I could call it the "Sour Grapes" Book Club, so as not to offend Ms. Winfrey (in case she ever deigns to choose my book). But truly, I am in a snit here. How unfortunately true that there is no such thing as bad publicity? Take a look at the torturous
New York Times bestseller list (worse than my daily venture onto the Amazon book rank chart) and you will see that number 1 is Elie Wiesel's
Night. I have nothing against Mr. Wiesel, in fact, I loved
Night when I read it
one hundred years ago! So let's forget the fact that the noble and deserving Mr. Wiesel has not had a new book in ages, nor has a movie been made of
Night (and we should thank God for that, it would be sad, so very sad that we would not recover); it is
because Oprah chose him!But far worse than that is the slap in the face to all decent writers, that the infamous James Frey, of
A Million Lies fame, is number 2 on the bestseller list!
Meanwhile, we lesser writers slog away, traveling the countryside week after week, spreading little droplets of wisdom (or some facsimile thereof), hope, and cheer -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- and Ms. Winfrey has yet to choose them for her illustrious, fame-boosting book club, or worse yet, do a story on
autism! Why, oh why, can't she use her powers for the good? Or at least, to help sell my book?