Richard Dansky

Dear readers, writers, and fellow nerds of all stripes, I feel I must unburden myself to you of a terrible, profound, shocking secret that, over the course of my professional and personal journey, I have uncovered.

Pay attention. This is important.

There is a lot of entertainment out there. And one of the inevitable consequences of there being so much out there is that different people like different things. And this is fine.

Or, to put it another way, there are things that you like that I don’t like. There are things that I like that you don’t like. There are things out there that we both like, and things that neither of us like. There are things you like a lot that I kind of enjoy, and things that I’m fanatical about that you can only enjoy in small doses.

And again, this is fine. When I say, “I do not like this thing you like,” I am merely stating a personal preference. I am not making a value judgment on you as a human being based on the fact that your love for Dollhouse is probably far greater than mine. I do not cast you out from the charmed circle of those I bless with my presence because you do not give a rat’s ass over whether the 12” remix of Marillion’s “Assassing” is superior to, inferior to, or simply different[1] than the album and single mixes. I actually enjoy conversing at levels below 100 decibels with people whose taste differs from mine because exploring what each of us likes or does not like about Joss Whedon’s latest project can lead to some very interesting discussion. This, in my opinion is a good thing.[2]

However, and I may be getting silly here, I expect the same of you. I would hope that you would understand that others’ tastes are not precisely congruent to your own, and that by going on fanatical crusades across the internet to flame at the stake the heretics who did not show sufficient love for Firefly or John Scalzi’s latest book or whatnot, you look like jerks, and make actual interesting discussion beyond “I LURV THIS SO MUCH” pretty much impossible.

By the same token, exploding into wrathful condescension against those who like stuff that you do not like – particularly things that fall into the category of Things That Sold Better Than Things I Like And Which Are Liked By Many Other People – at the drop of a hat is also counterproductive to anything except the reinforcement of a particularly weird and defensive tribal mindset. This siege mentality, which can best be summed up as “Everyone out there likes crap and I like the good stuff” is magnificent at driving off people who might actually have been interested in trying the stuff you’d like had it been offered in a friendly, accessible and non-fanatical way.

It also, once liquor gets into the equation, turns parties boring as hell, because there’s always some drunk asshole in the corner declaiming loudly about how Twilight[3] is actually a sign of the oncoming zombie apocalypse. Said asshole used to hole up in the same corner ranting about how The Wheel of Time was the end of literacy, and before that The Belgariad, and before that D&D tie-in novels, and before that, all the way back to Seabury Quinn (with a side trip circa 1984 into “U2 sold out, man, and now their music sucks!”), but never mind. Not important[4]. What is important is that you scratch that loudly voiced concern lightly and you get a highly counterproductive mix of clannishness and snobbery and jealousy, which A)doesn’t discourage a single 12 year old girl from buying a poster of Taylor Lautner flashing his abs and B)makes people actively want to avoid the stuff you’re holding out as brilliant. Why? Because you’ve already told them that the stuff they like is crap, and that’s not a good indicator that your tastes are then magically going to align once you force them to watch YouTube clips of the best moments from Warehouse 13[5].

So, in short: relax. Or calm the fuck down. Whichever. Unhitch your self-esteem from your entertainment choices and just enjoy them for a change. And while you’re at it, allow others to enjoy theirs as well. Then, if you’re really feeling crazy, you can sit down and talk about what you liked/didn’t like and maybe be glad that other folks are getting enjoyment from what they read, or watch, or listen to. Understand that no one is secretly judging you and finding you wanting because you liked Patrick Rothfuss more than you liked Tolkien. And understand that the person you talked to who couldn’t give a crap about what happens next to Kvothe is not a bad person because of their withholding of that metaphorical lump of kaka. If you can talk using a noun-to-expletive ratio of better than 3:1 about why Brandon Sanderson’s latest slab[6] of heroic fantasy didn’t do it for you with someone who did like the book, great. Maybe they can talk about why they did like it, and everyone walks away from the conversation a little happier. At the very least, you’ll be able to be slightly more accurate in your holiday shopping for one another[7].

But as for me, I liked Rubicon more than I’m liking The Walking Dead so far. I preferred Millennium to The X-Files. I don’t listen to a ton of MC Frontalot or Dresden Dolls or J-pop. I think Scott Lynch’s The Lies of Locke Lamora is the most enjoyable fantasy novel I’ve read in years, that James Knapp’s The Silent Army is the most interesting zombie novel I’ve read lately, and that Jeff Strand is someone more people should be reading. I’m mildly amused by The Guild, I don’t read Wil Wheaton’s blog on a regular basis, and I’m more interested in Keith Law’s take on books than I am in that of most genre reviewers.

These are my opinions. Having them does not make me a bad person[8]. By the same token, I would not consider you to be a bad person if you held opinions counter to mine.  And if you could do me – and everyone else whose tastes aren’t precisely identical to yours – the same courtesy, then maybe we’ll all be a little happier. At the very least, we’ll all have a lot more time for reading.

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[1] For the record, the album version rules.

[2] It has been scientifically proven that the only entertainment choice all sentient life-forms can actually agree on is Law & Order reruns, which everyone agrees are OK for background noise if there’s nothing else on.

[3] For the record: I have never read a Twilight novel. I probably never will read one. I don’t find the premise interesting. Do not mistake the referenced paragraph as an endorsement of, commentary on, or judgment in the case of Twilight. Because if you do, you’re wrong.

[4] A bunch of people sitting around a table agreeing with each other that Twilight sucks is not equivalent in any way, shape, or form to the Algonquin Round Table, except possibly by the fact that in both instances, chairs were involved. Remember this.

[5] And while we’re at it, this essay is not about you, personally. If you think it is, you need to re-read it, possibly several times.

[6] This is not a comment on quality; it is a comment on bulk. Any novel that I can do step aerobics on, whether it be Mark Helprin, Normal Mailer, Brandon Sanderson or whoever, is summarily designated a “slab”. As in “this book could conceivably be used as a paving slab”.

[7] Unless you engage in “proselytizing-through-presents”, which I regard as being on the same level as Homer buying Marge a bowling ball labeled “Homer” on The Simpsons. Unless, of course, you’re pushing my books. In that case, have at it.

[8] Or an idiot, or a moron, or whatever other pejorative leaps to mind as a replacement for “person whose opinion differs from mine”