Dear
Mr. Selznick,
We've never met, but I've been a huge fan of yours for many years now, ever since I first picked up a copy of
Frindle (for which, as you probably know, you provided the illustrations). However, I have a beef I'd like to take up with you, and that is, namely, that you broke my laptop.
Now, I realize you might initially be confused by this statement since, as I mentioned, we have never met, and therefore you have presumably never had access to my personal laptop computer. Still, I hold you fully responsible for its destruction and, as such, I expect full compensation.
This
Caldecott-winning novel did not, as you might at first assume, fall on my computer from a great height, thereby smashing it to smithereens. Nor did it jam up my keyboard in some unforeseeable pulping accident. No, Mr. Selznick, you destroyed my computer beyond all repair for this one, simple reason:
Your book is far too interesting.
You see, last Friday I had just left the library after several hours of working on a book of my own and, with my laptop tossed devil-may-care inside my oversized purse, I found an empty seat on the crowded subway car and proceeded to immerse myself in the adventures of Hugo and Isabelle. And oh, Mr. Selznick, what very fascinating adventures they were. The clocks in the train station! The grumpy man at the toy booth! The mysterious automaton with its secret message, just waiting to be revealed! Of course, Mr. Selznick, I don't have to tell you what a compelling book it is, since — as I'm sure you are aware — you wrote it. Unfortunately, however, I found the story so compelling — so fascinating, so gripping, really — that it was well over twenty minutes before I noticed that my knee was wet.
That is correct, Mr. Selznick. My knee was wet. Soaking, actually.
But even more alarming than the knee-dampening was the source of the dampness — because, upon investigation, I realized that the fluid that was wetting my knee had originated from a water bottle deep within my purse. A water bottle whose lid had come completely unscrewed. A water bottle that had, quite alarmingly, emptied itself all over my laptop, leaving my computer in a state of utter fry-age, transforming it swiftly and viciously into nothing more than a useless piece of scrap metal.
[Mr. Selznick, please allow me a moment here to mourn the tragic and untimely loss of my beloved laptop, both friend and colleague.
Okay, I'm better now.]
Mr. Selznick, one might contend that in fact you were not responsible for the damage to my computer at all. One might argue instead that the entire incident was my fault. One might further point out that it is rather moronic to place one's laptop in the same carry-all as one's half-full bottle of water, especially if that bottle has an unreliably loose-fitting lid.
One can be sort of annoying sometimes, can't one?
However, Mr. Selznick, I maintain that the damage to my computer is completely and utterly your fault — because if your novel had been even the slightest bit uninteresting, I most assuredly would have turned my attentions to my dripping handbag much earlier, thereby rescuing my laptop from its wretched demise. For instance, had I been reading a
Nancy Drew novel — pleasurable, yes, but not as thoroughly engrossing as
Hugo — I certainly would have been able to retrieve my laptop from the bag much sooner, as my nose would not have been quite so deeply buried in the pages of my book. If I were reading a copy of
Star magazine, perhaps — intriguing, sure, but nothing special — I definitely would have come away with a computer only slightly saturated. And beyond a shadow of a doubt, had I been reading
Moby Dick — please don't get me started — I would have wrested my attention away from my reading material at the first whisper of dripping water, exiting the subway car with a completely bone-dry bag.
Unfortunately for me and my electronic devices, however, I was not reading one of these texts. No, Mr. Selznick, I was reading Hugo Cabret.
Mr. Selznick, I hate to be a finger-pointer, but as you can clearly see, my argument is infallible. You are to blame for my loss.
The worst of the matter, really, is that I still feel compelled to finish reading your book. Utter folly, I know, considering the damage I have already sustained, but I simply can't restrain myself. Will Hugo be able to continue the upkeep of the clocks before the stationmaster discovers his uncle is gone? What is Papa Georges's connection to the mechanical man? And will Hugo ever discover a much longed-for message from his deceased father? I simply must find out.
But, oh! how I shudder to imagine what horrors await me as I continue reading! Will I set fire to my apartment? Blind an orphan? Single-handedly lead to the downfall of our nation's economy? Obviously, I will have to remain vigilant as I embark upon this most dangerous endeavor.
Mr. Selznick, I implore you — the next time you write a book, think of your readers. Think of your country. Think of humanity.
Next time, please — write a crappy book, won't you??
In the meantime, I do hope you will be on the lookout for my new computer. I assure you, I am not too particular when it comes to the make and model.
I will also accept a money order.
Sincerely,
Your fan,
Who, now that she thinks about it, is most partial to
this laptop here,
Lisa
Graff
P.S. Dudes, seriously, my laptop is fried. The good news is that it looks like I can retrieve all the files, but still. I'm sad.
P.P.S. Very, very sad.
As graduates of a full-time, on-site MFA programme, I was wondering if you have any opinions about low-residency MFA programmes, or if you know anyone who has tried one?
