Who The Hell Is Teaching Erin Morgenstern How To Write? | The Night Circus - Review

 

I did some research on The Night Circus earlier this morning.  I’ve even checked out Erin Morgenstern’s blog, thinking that I want to know more about this person who has written this book that I’ve heard so much about.  I’ve heard a lot about The Night Circus.  And, today, when I turned to Amazon to find what books were similar to Carlos Ruiz Zafon’s new book, The Midnight Palace, there it was in the recommended books.

The Night Circus opened to the first page; I can’t remember whether it was numbered or set in roman numerals.  The first few sentences had a somewhat mediocre simplicity, but I said to myself, yeah I’ll get over that.  When I say it read with mediocre simplicity, I mean to say, if a writer was writing to capture the attention of a 9 year old boy, they would use short sentences and smaller words.  That’s understandable.  I could get over that, no big deal.

However, when I came across the second page, my face became flushed from it’s sensibility.

“What kind of circus is open at night,” people ask.  No one has a proper answer, yet as dusk approaches there is a substantial crowd of spectators gathering outside the gates.

You are amongst them, of course.  Your curiosity got the better of you, as curiousity is wont to do.  You stand in the fading light, the scarf around your neck pulled up against the chilly evening breeze. . . 

WHAT THE FUCK!  What the fuck are you talking about Erin???  What the hell is that?  I’m amongst them?  You went into this whole segue to recognize that I’m a reader when the whole point of me reading a book is to be sucked into a story unknowingly.  THAT’S WEIRD!  Now, I’m a reader and a character.  What is this an RPG?  AND NO!  I WOULD NOT WEAR A SCARF!
Who seriously does this?  Are today’s readers actually appreciating that they get to be manipulated into a book via FYI.  The last thing I want to feel when reading a fictional book is to feel like I’m reading.  I want to feel like I’m being sucked in, not, hey you with the book, let me guide you through how you should be feeling at this moment.

I clapped the book closed and said donezo.  Even though I was disappointed, I’ll admit that I carried myself through several lines after reading that paragraph but couldn’t help but regret what I was doing.  It just makes it hard to keep going after such a heavy disappointment.  It’s like going to Disneyland but first the gay security guard has to strip search you.  All this anticipation for something that might be good, but then you ruin it by being such a disappointment right at the beginning of the trip.

I can’t enjoy the rest of my experience when I’m blindsided by such a catastrophe.