“Great idea – terrible book.”
A colleague has just reviewed Dracula for me in four words. I haven’t asked for this.
I haven’t asked for anything he’s said in the last five minutes. He’s like that. He wears what appears to be the same outfit every day and he starts most sentences with the word clearly. If you don’t understand almost entirely who this man is and, more importantly, what he’s about from this information then I’m afraid you’re no better than he is.
Pontificate. If you did need more information for your mental image then there, there you go. That word.
But I only went in there to ask about something that was not-Dracula (I mean the thing wasn’t Dracula that I wanted to talk about, I didn’t have a modus operandi that was to talk about anything other than the gothic classic).
Coincidentally enough, though it’s not actual coincidence – but close enough for the purpose of this sentence, this is the second time someone has questioned the quality of Bram Stoker’s book to me in a week. The other was a close friend and he got short shrift.
I couldn’t be bothered arguing with someone I don’t want to talk with, though. So I just edge towards the though and don’t agree with someone. Agreement is not really something that encourages him. He takes ANYTHING anyone says as some kind of reinforcement of his own opinion.
He’s a middle manager in a white collar job. And it’s….it’s fucking Dracula. It’s one of the greatest works of fiction ever created. And he is someone who gave out my direct line to hundreds of people because he is unable to differentiate between the right phone number to give out and the wrong phone number to give out.
I think Bram wins that one.
Note: Dracula is one of my favourite books. Defensive much?