Garbage about jibberish passes for literature today.
I luv Hairy Potty. Every time a new one comes out I rush to the nearest bookstore, pick up a copy and read, or rather try to get through the first two pages, or any two pages at random. And I count the clichés. I must say she (the author) is consistent. In every one of these tomes I have counted 6 or 7 clichés per page. (I don't count the stilted metaphors, but they're there for your enjoyment too.) Ain't nothing like great literature, is there?!
P.S. I read in the paper yesterday that the author is threatening to unleash still more of her graphomaniac output on the world! Hurray!
Yeah, kids were much smarter when their literature was about hard-nosed, serious subjects like a lion who rules over a magical kingdom in a closet. Or a young girl, a small dog, a talking lion, a tin man and a scarecrow dodging witches to find a wizard. Or princesses, pirates, knights of the round table, giants, orcs, hobbits, and teenaged detectives.
No worse than calling Jack London literature. The sophomoric appologetics for a low life. I'm betting JK Rolling is better.