Alas and alack! for I feel sometimes that I am living in a post-literate age, where a book has more value torn apart and its internal guts offered up to the gods of crafting. Where a good author stands out if he be sea-green and posed against some beach detritus ....
And what of movies made from great literature? A classic novel is served up for movie audiences only to find itself in the service of immature bathroom humor, so that even in the visual media a good story is plowed under the roar of bathroom scenes, public restrooms, graphic visual episodes of bodily discharges of various sorts, car chases and explosions - lots of explosions - and even when philosophical queries are posited and characters are possibly allowed to enter a higher or different realm, they are still stupidly kicking kung fu and lugging about gigantic weapons of bodily destruction.
It is Jane Austen vs Zombies. Tess as a vampire. Abraham Lincoln vs Zombies has been done... Next, I think ... Mark Twain vs Walking Dead ...
Hopefully this too shall pass.
