The Second Deadly Sin

by Barbara D'Amato

It’s the second deadly sin if you go by Pope Gregory’s count, but sixth by some other reckonings. Envy.

The last couple of weeks have seen many and varied responses to Dan Brown’s new book THE LOST SYMBOL. The ones that are troubling seem angry that Brown is selling so well and making so much money. “He can’t write!” “It’s the same old same old.” “Clichéd characters.” “What’s wrong with the book-buying public?”

It wouldn’t be troubling if remarks like this came from reviewers and critics. That’s their job, after all. But I‘m seeing them on writer chatrooms, socialnets, and blogs written by other authors. And in those cases, it smells a lot like envy.

I like some books better than others—who doesn’t?—and some books not at all. But I don’t think the ones I don’t care for are my enemies.

Yes, I am envious of book sales I wish were mine, but not too envious and not without a touch of gratitude that the books are selling. I like it when the big news is a book. Not a bridge collapse. Not a tsunami. Not a movie. Not even or the wedding of some mega-star. Or the wedding of a mega-star to another mega-star. A BOOK!

Huge bestsellers keep publishing companies afloat. No, not those celebrity books they pay millions for and which then don’t sell. But books that really sell help the companies’ bottom lines. You’re going to say that the money doesn’t trickle down to the midlist author? Sadly, that’s pretty much the case. But if the company folds, I’m a no-list author.

The rising tide raises all boats. We hear this a lot, but it’s mostly true. If John Public buys a book and enjoys it, he’s more likely to buy mine. And if John has rarely bought books before, and isn’t much of a reader, but suddenly finds reading is a fun thing to do, he’s far more likely to buy another.

And if Johnny Jr. liked reading Harry Potter, he’s a lot more likely to go on to read more. Yes, I know there’s a drop-off in kids’ reading in their teens, but teenagers have a lot to deal with. If he remembers liking Harry Potter, he’s more likely to buy Dan Brown. And then Hellmann, Chercover, Paretsky, Dymmoch, Heinzmann, Caldwell, Sakey, Guilfoile, Ellis, and all of that ilk when he gets into his twenties.

There's Something About Harry

by Marcus Sakey

Fourteen million. That's how many copies of the new Harry Potter were printed. Actually, Scholastic started at 12 million, but within ten days of the book's release went back for two million more.

Two million more.

It's become fashionable to roll your eyes at the series, but I can't go with that. I'm not a fan, either. I've read a couple of the books, and liked them fine. She's a wonderful fantasist and has a lovely touch with the characters. Overall, though, my hair remained forward and my socks stayed on.

Obviously, I'm in the minority. 14,000,000 copies.

Which has me wondering — and I really want to know — what is it about these books that so grabs people? The appeal transcends age, gender, and sophistication. People who read a book a year love 'em; people who read a book a week love 'em. People who don't read fantasy love 'em. People who hate children love 'em.

Is it the universe? The fantasy of empowerment? The fight against ultimate evil? The camaraderie of the characters? A wish for magic? An identification with the misfit kid in all of us? What has drawn so many people into this series, and held their attention through something like 6,000 pages?

I'd really like to know. Partly out of curiosity, and partly because I intend to let the answers inform my own writing. Whatever she's doing, it works, and it's worth learning from.

So those of you who love the series, can you explain what it is that moves you? And while we're at it, you eye-rollers out there, what bugs you?