If you will, imagine with me:
A man, mid-thirties, brown hair, sits on a couch. In his hands, he holds Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret with a mild expression of pain and discomfort on his face. He looks puzzled. The soft sounds of a SportsCenter anchor eminate in the background.
A 3-year-old boy runs past, pushing a plastic lawnmower out of which the lower torso of an upside-down Buzz Lightyear pertrudes from the plastic gas tank.
The man’s lovely wife, now seven months pregnant, asks the man if he will bring a laundry basket downstairs. He replies, “Honey, can’t you see I’m reading Judy Blume here?”
[Fade to black.]
Cue Announcer: In a world where literature has been replaced by reality television, where the bookshelf has been relocated from the living room to the attic, one man set out to single-handedly change the face of literature as we know it.
He didn’t do that. But he did read a lot. He read on couches and comfy chairs and at lunch tables. In beds and on floors and in bathrooms. He just read.
This is 101 Books: The Movie.
One man. One couch. 101 Books.
Cue overly-dramatic symphonic music.
***
Might this be the worst movie idea ever? I think so.
But, you know, there was that one movie, Julie and Julia, about the girl who blogged through the Julia Child cookbook. How does that ever translate to film? But somehow it did.
But, no, 101 Books: The Movie might be the worst movie idea ever. You might as well just put a small camera in my “man room” so you can watch me sit on the couch and read for two hours. How riveting! Isn’t there a documentary about the science of drying paint that might be more interesting?
But maybe I’m too cynical.
So what do you think…101 Books: The Movie. Would you watch?
