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05 April 2011

One star is golden! I'll win the Griffin!

Snowball, Dragonfly, Jew earned one out of five stars on someone's review blog. She says she was unable to write her own "synapsis" of the book, which she found to be a "mis-mash of scenes" ("Some of which don't even make any sense on their own, let alone taken as a whole with the others.")

This might be the best review I'll get — she gave five stars out of five to Stieg Larsson, Robert Sawyer and John Grisham, so obviously I'm doing everything right!

Incidentally, the nominees for the 2011 Griffin Prize were released today. I must reveal that I wrote all of the nominated books, under various pen names. I will accept the award not for myself, but for the employees of Burma-Shave.

Over and out.
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4 comments:

  1. ZenaApril 06, 2011 1:09 am

    help: i tried
    to write A
    Stupid Poem
    but,
    my
    synapsis
    misfired

    ReplyDelete
  2. ZenaApril 12, 2011 5:57 pm

    Mor(ph)un with mangled (meta?) malapropisms...

    i'm sorry i
    trashed
    your room my
    synapsis
    snapped,
    sis

    (my apologies, Stu - I just don't know what's gotten into me lately...)

    ReplyDelete
  3. ZenaApril 12, 2011 9:49 pm

    And one more for the road...

    Stupid (found) Poem

    Let me just say this:
    Let's be clear about the facts.
    That's simply not true; that's
    Simply not true! That's simply
    Not true.
    That's simply not
    ...that's
    simply
    that's
    I don't accept the truth --

    (okay, I'll stop now...)

    ReplyDelete
  4. AnonymousApril 14, 2011 10:54 pm

    The Post-Babel Curfuffle
    reading Alessandro Porco's review of Stuart Ross in Northern Poetry Review

    To approach is not to arrive completely...
    Poets shed their skins like other lizards,
    and flies collect the dots and rub their fingers
    and spill out a tiny interpretive excrement seen
    only by scientists with microscopes. I propose
    a largescale operation to steal all microscopes
    away from the bourgeois materialists. The monists
    with their glasses and their premature baldness
    will not be the only enlightened apes.
    In this paradise, revolution will beget glorious revolution,
    and the critics will admit that we are all Orphic Snakes
    dangling from Icarian Adams, and that Eve was not a pacemaker
    but a poet, too – a real heart – disembodied and painted
    by her detractors in the unforgiving and most understandable
    light of the post-Babel curfuffle.

    ReplyDelete