During recovery from surgery a bit more than a week ago, I read two Dean Koontz books at the recommendation of my spouse: Odd Thomas and Forever Odd. There is one more around here some place, Brother Odd.
Page 27 of Odd Thomas ends with “…perhaps Chief Porter has seen too much of human treachery. Perhaps the weight he carries is a load of memories that he would prefer to shed, but can’t.” Physical weight as well as emotional.
I cried. I shared with my husband and cried some more. It has been a long time since a book has moved me to tears. A truth stated succinctly at the bottom of a page in a paperback novel.
In the second book, a passage refers to Odd’s friend Ozzie, the writer. Ozzie writes detective stories for the most part. Odd believes his friend Ozzie wants to write literature, enduring literature, instead of popular fiction. This speaks of Dean Koontz’s own wish, I’m sure. Once a writer is established in a genre, publishers are so often reluctant to publish anything that might surprise the masses. I think the Odd series might have been delayed by publisher reluctance and perhaps Dean Koontz eventually will manage the literature he desires. Not to say his novels aren’t well written.
One thing I resent is the repetition of clues. Something tells me Koontz did not add the breadcrumbs, but the publishing house did. As if we, the readers, need assistance remembering details through 500 or so pages. Again, an appeal to the masses perhaps.
What do you want to write?
What do you want to read?
I want to write something that I could read and re-read. Something to mine for deeper meaning with each pass.