Alison Gordon (aligor@interlog.com)
Tue, 13 Jul 1999 08:54:46 -0400

(First, my apologies to the listowner for whatever havoc I may have caused by sending this message to the major domo address in error. It was early morning, if that's an excuse.)

 I can vaguely recall being impressed by Burke when I read his earlier books, but found they interested me less and less as the series progressed. Electric Mist was the last I bought (or the last that's in my bookcase, anyway.) Then, last summer, at a friend's cottage I read a couple of his subsequent ones back-to-back on a rainy afternoon. Big mistake. All his excesses are magnified when you read too much of him at once. And, sumptuous as his writing might be, it's the prose equivalent of empty calories. (I have taken to calling him "The Weather Man", for obvious reasons). And Robichaud's angst drives me nuts.

This all came home to me when I was asked by the program guide for Bravo, the Canadian arts channel, to do a very short essay on Burke, whose biography is airing next month (not sure when, but will let you know when I do). I had accepted the assignment absent-mindedly, before I remembered how I felt about him. But, hey, they were offering me actual money (well, the Canadian approximation of same) so I wrote it anyway, in such a way that only other people who think he is pretentious will get what I'm really saying. I hope.

Alison Gordon aligor@interlog.com

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