"[P]repare to be immersed in a shallow pool of political nonsense," he wrote under the pseudonym Dr. Dudley. Lugubrious, heavy-handed, barely readable, unintentionally risible.
Thank you for your feedback, Dr. Dudley. No, seriously, thank you! Though I sensed your effort was ill-intended, your comments were not without merit. I found them helpful because they confirmed that I had achieved some of the objectives for writing the novel.
Setting aside that "Dr. Dudley" is surely a pseudonym inspired by the near-sighted doctor who tended to the Munsters, I found value in his witty but myopic critique. He observed the story is immersed in politics. Yes, it is, but his "shallow pool of political nonsense" reference tells me less about the merits of the subject and more about his personal distaste for Jon Freeman's politics. Perhaps the narrative punched his buttons? After all, he had to try to post a negative review! His is a sentiment not dissimilar from the criticism I received from one of my right-wing military schoolmates. So, I am pleased as punch that I touched a nerve. I would instead be met with derision, even if it be ill-begotten or ill-intended, than be met with an indifferent shrug.
Lugubrious. Dr. Dudley threw in that ten-dollar word, so I looked it up. The Oxford Dictionary (online) defines lugubrious as "looking or sounding sad and dismal." Bravo! He got the point and taught me a new word in the process. The Last Independence Day: Secession was intended to paint a dismal (and, sadly, prescient) picture of what could happen if the Right takes hold and the Dr. Dudleys of the world remain willfully blind to the Orange Man's designs on our democracy.
Heavy-handed. Once more, I agree with Dr. Dudley. The far-right agenda advances policies that go far beyond heavy-handed. The Right's imbroglio with white Christian nationalism promises a blueprint for a future dystopia that would turn our nation into something unrecognizable. I did my best to capture how heavy-handed the Right would be if given the unfettered reins of power. Since the Orange Man has given a voice to the nation's darkest angels and dressed them up in choir robes, there is no telling just how heavy-handed things will become.
Barely readable? I beg to differ. That was just mean-spirited. For a minute there, I was actually enjoying his brief prose mocking the work, but then he stepped a tad low when he was doing so well!
Finally, the good doctor accused the novel of being "unintentionally" risible. Risible. There's another rare word that I had to look up. Again, courtesy of Oxford, risible is an adjective "such as to provoke laughter." He was half right in his critique. Risible? Hopefully! Is there no place for comic relief in an otherwise dark tale? But unintentionally so? I think that's just his opinion, as if trying to say, inartfully, that he found the work "laughable," but the big word might have gotten away from him.
I am tickled I got a rise from Dr. Dudley. Moreover, criticism like his only steals my resolve to keep writing—and poke the bear when necessary if the truth demands it.
R
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