I recently saw an ad on a New York City subway car
for a novel by someone named Sandra Brown. The title itself was not the least
bit memorable to me, which did not help Ms. Brown’s cause, at least in my case.
But what did catch my eye, and what really made me not want to read the book, was
the one-line pitch that, I can only assume, was pored over and debated and
twisted and reworked by a highly-paid, grammatically-challenged pack of baboons
entrusted with goading me into buying this book. Or maybe it was some
influential person’s idiot nephew who decided on the following spine-tingler:
‘She’s
on the hunt for a killer…unless he finds her first.’
Wow. With zingers like that who needs barbiturates?
I understand that advertisements are supposed to
elicit an emotional response. And, truth be told, this trite bit succeeded in
evoking a visceral response in me too – namely, ‘That’s all it takes to be a
highly-paid baboon? Where do I apply?’