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?’