Books To Movies -- A Rant

No, it's not that post that I've long wanted to get into.

Rather, it's a rant, over at The Guardian, Cinema Stole My Favourite Books. An excerpt:

I expended time and imagination to absorb these stories. Why should people be entitled to think they know them without putting in any effort?

As Morrissey once opined, we hate it when our friends become successful. Well, some of us also hate it when our favourite books become successful movies. Can there be anything worse than lovingly engaging with a couple of hundred thousand words of prose over perhaps two or three weeks, drinking in the author's dialogue and descriptions, creating your own vision of the work in the privacy of your head, only to have every man and his dog (special offer on Tuesdays at your local Odeon) blast your intellectual ownership of the book out of the water after spending 90 minutes slobbing out in front of a cinema screen?

Elitism? Of course it is. But then, the love of books is surely a minority sport, isn't it? It takes time, effort and determination to finish a book with the rest of the rubbish that modern life throws at us, so surely we readers should be rewarded with some kind of badge of honour.

Click the above link to read the whole article.

Thanks to Zen In Darkness for the heads-up.