This weekend, I saw Divergent. Let me stop you before I go in the direction that you think I am going to- I will not be comparing the printed page to the silver screen. Now, book-lovers, please don’t shun me for my honesty: this time, I opted to skip the book and but still see the movie. And it made for a great weekend.
Indeed, it is a great truth that books are better than movies. It’s a general rule with surprisingly few exceptions. I’m sure a couple of people out there get more pleasure than me dissecting the many ways that a movie has failed its source material, but it’s not a huge group. So, lately, I have waded my way through several young adult books just in time to have read the book first but still catch the movies in theaters- because I’m a purist about that, too.
This time, though? I’m still not sure if was the absurdity of the premise that any significant number of human beings would agree to be defined by a single character trait or the fact that Veronica Roth had way too much fun with the thesaurus while naming the factions- I could not bring myself to spend the time it would take to get through book-Divergent. Whereas, at about two hours and twenty minutes, movie-Divergent was a really fun romp.
(Same goes for the much smaller, poorly marketed Vampire Academy, for the record.)
Maybe I missed out on something better or maybe I wasted an afternoon, depending on how you look at it. Still, it made me reflect on our different expectations for these two forms of enttertainment. Even if I am a thirty-something still reading books marketed to adolescents, I still have higher expectations for anything I sit down to read versus watch. Is it because of the time investment reading requires? The fact that reading is not something I can multitask while doing? That reading feels like a more interactive experience than watching, so my brain catches on to the holes more readily?
Anyway, time to go read until I gt too tired and switch to the tv…