So I was talking with my buddy Alyosha, another read-alikes writer for NoveList. He had just landed a plum of an assignment, Thomas Harris, author of the Hannibal Lecter series. I was intensely jealous, but honestly it’s best that I don’t write the piece on him. See, while most people think of Harris as a writer of serial killer novels, I tend to think of him as a romance writer. Seriously. Don’t believe me? Read Hannibal. (Don’t cheat by watching the movie. It sucked. Silence of the Lambs is a great film. Hannibal is not.)
Alyosha was incredulous that I consider Harris to be a romance writer.
"In Hannibal, maybe," he conceded.
"Oh, it was there in Silence of the Lambs," I said. "I saw it coming."
"Yeah, but Lecter’s such a monster. He’s a murderer. He’s a cannibal."
"That’s what makes it great," I explained. "There’s all this psycho-sexual tension between Lecter and Starling."
"True," said Alyosha. "Starling has a great dilemma: Is he going to eat me, or is he going to eat me?"
I swear, librarians are so cool. If that’s not the best book joke ever… Just wish I could take credit for it.