Today's special: Book flambé

Not a bad day for a book burning, eh? Don’t answer that. The only days that are legitimately problematic for mile high funereal tome pyres are rainy ones. However, in those soggy examples there are still ways to get the flame you’re looking for. I just thought that in our current season of fire and brimstone, the evergreen subject of burning books ought to be discussed openly and honestly. Siskel & Ebert’s thumbs down is a tepid critique when compared to dousing each page of a hated volume with kerosene and watching it go down in a blaze of unglory. 

Books serve many masters and many more functions. When you read something you don’t like or appreciate, there’s always the ability to write a searing response of your own. But why waste your time sacrificing good sense to the Grammar gods for clearer syntax, when your garage has a surplus of lighter fluid? 

Fires are how we deal with problems. That’s whether they are marinated meats or tortured prose. Steak tartar can only go so far without indigestion becoming a real concern. We cook the food we love, so one could make the very logical argument that we do the same to books we loathe. We’re cooking the sin away, freeing it of intellectual contagions. There’s not much that remains, but whatever, whatever, something, something about rising out of the ashes. 

Oddly, book burnings are viewed as arcane. Letting go of your most prized shelved possessions is, without equivocation, a triumph of certain wills. There’s no point in engaging with an argument when matches are handy. Sadly, the sight of a smoldering pile of e-readers doesn’t produce a similar level of satisfaction or smell. But it might just be the best case against the technology to date. 

Too bad book burnings are hard work. They require planning, a helping hand inside the local fire department and a sizable, sycophantic crowd. And in our rapidly-changing climate, you can’t hope to warm yourself through the display anymore. Since you’re probably quite warm as it is. But there was a time when you could at least count on that.

 

Don’t get down. Huge, spectacular eye-burning literary conflagrations are not the only way to deal with bad books. There are still plenty of ways to show your outrage and disgust without resorting to a complicated fire hazard.  

You’re punishing writers, yes, but also readers. Cut it up with a paring knife. That’ll show ‘em. Toss it into a body of water. That’ll teach ‘em. Books are doorstops, footrests, seat cushions, projectiles, hats, pillows and spittoons. Slap the dust jacket. Kick the deckled edge. Step on each page. The joy of such actions continue long after the final stomp, when burnings are usually over before they begin. These smaller methods of vitriol stay with you, like a stress ball that never unravels.

Do whatever you want to bad books except read them.