My Little Problem
Last week I decided to make good on my desire to read Masefield’s The Box of Delights, and whistled up a copy courtesy of my local library. But I did not pay close enough attention to the edition I was reserving, even after I received the copy I reserved. It wasn’t until morning coffee several days later that I noticed the dread words “abridged by… ” and realized this edition was no good. When tracking down a copy of an older work such as The Wind in the Willows or The Count of Monte Cristo I’m usually on guard against this sort of nonsense, so I was little annoyed at this slip-up on my part.
Honestly, I can’t think of any reason to abridge a book, or read an abridged book. What’s the point? A misguided desire to make a text more appealing to a certain audience? To bowdlerize?* To avoid the perceived drudgery of reading a ‘hard’ book? I just don’t get it.
Abridged books are in the same category as light beer – pale imitations of the real thing.
*I bet this is often the case.
I recall long ago reading the abridged version of Monte Cristo in school. Then years later, reading the complete version and being flabbergasted at how much was removed…namely, most of it. WTF?