I saw a student reading the new Nicholas Sparks novel the other day and my snobbery kicked into high gear. “What are you doing?” I yelled. I grabbed the book and read the first few lines. Ugh. An overreaction to bad literature? Perhaps. “It’s pleasure reading,” the student said guilt-free. Well, of course, I thought. It wouldn’t be assigned reading. But pleasure? It’s all relative, I suppose.
So, no, I’m not a Nicholas Sparks fan. I will admit here though that despite also being a movie snob, I went with a friend to see Nights of Rodanthe last month, a movie based on another Sparks novel, because I was wooed by Richard Gere and Diane Lane; unfortunately, their characters could not convincingly woo each other. The best part though was a tender moment when the two are close, talking about her keepsake box filled with trinkets. “What do you keep in your box?” Gere asks.
“My children,” Lane answered.
Well, that was it for my friend and me. We fought to contain laughter. She keeps her children in the box! we whispered obnoxiously. That’s ridiculous!
In that sense, you could say Sparks is pretty entertaining; I do love to laugh. I think the people around us, however, may not have appreciated our snickering as they sniffled into their tissues. That too, I found entertaining.