So, I finished that White City book, which would have been much better being two books both more fleshed out, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t spend the whole ride home telling the Butcher about the Ferris Wheel and how The White City influenced our culture in ways we don’t even realize now–Hello Disneyland! Which reminds me, Coble, if you haven’t read it and would like to, I’m happy to share my copy.
But that left me part of my layover in Charlotte and then my flight back to Nashville with no reading materials and so I picked up The Monsters of Templeton which was the only book in the bookstore that didn’t look either terrible or like I needed to have read the whole series before i picked that one up.
I then stayed up all night to finish it. I can’t remember the last time I stayed up all night to read a book.
Anyway, it’s loosely based on Cooperstown, NY, which is instead called Templeton and it’s the story of a woman who is a direct descendent of the town founder and his famous writer son who returns to her hometown to deal with her pregnancy and find out who her realy father is and learn about her family. Also, there’s a lake monster. And ghosts, and psychics and women who can start fires with their minds. And the author has this weird hang-up of telling you all the time about whether her characters are fat or thin or getting fatter (and thus unattractive) or getting thinner (and thus more attractive).
It contains one of the biggest cop-outs in literary history, which goes far past the cliched “teenage girl gets pregnant, abortion seems like only reasonable course of action, but luckily she has a miscarriage” scenario straight into something that, for me, at least, was, if it is possible, even more offensive and what-the-fuck inducing.
And then, there’s this postcard scene which makes laughably little sense.
So, I guess the thing is that any time the book strays away from the magical and literary, it’s really problematic, to put it mildly, but I did devour the whole thing and am glad I did.