:-[

I apologize for completely forgetting to post last night—it slipped my mind as I prepared for the two back-to-back tests I had today. Whoops. Anyway, I hope you'll agree that blog posts are better late than never, so here's mine:

It was a strange feeling for me yesterday to have direct access to the author of a book I've read. That's never happened before. Maybe because of this lack of precedent, I didn't really know what to do with it. I really wanted to know what the Hammer of Ra is, but I realized that having someone—even the author—tell me kind of ruins the magic because it exposes the book's world as a fantasy. When the real world intrudes on a fictional one, the fictional world falls apart. Of course there's no such thing as a magic hammer, we realize (with massive disappointment). But it's hard to articulate just how this sort of feeling works. After all, it should be pretty obvious that the world described in a sci-fi/fantasy (the superhero genre pulls from both) book is just a bunch of words on paper. No matter how evocative or exciting that world is, or how much we might wish it were real, we know that it isn't—it's just something dreamed up by a particularly creative person from our superhero-less world. So meeting the mind behind the world—its unseen god—should be exciting for the reader. It should be an unparalleled opportunity to get closer to the text. But somehow it didn't work out that way for me. I was actually relieved that he spent so little time talking about his book. If he had decided to dissect and explain his characters, it would've robbed them of the believability that made the book such a compelling read in the first place. In other words, when I like a book I want to believe it to be real. Maybe not in the objective sense, but I think a book should be its own kingdom, its own logic, and I resent when a book's sovereignty is threatened. As likable as I found Mr. Grossman, yesterday was the first time that I really felt like I understood the importance of the death of the author. It seemed he wasn't much more able to shed light on the book's world than any one of us (notwithstanding his revelation of Feral and Elphin's sexuality), and that was hugely empowering. The book's world has taken on a life of its own (especially once the movie comes out), and I think it's pretty well out of his hands at this point. Still, it must be nice that the frustration of waning authorial control is counterweighted by ever bigger paychecks—I don't think anyone can accuse a grad student of selling out. Big ups to him.