Originally posted by Herlock Sholmes
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I think our individual definitions might well vary, because I think of 'a literary masterpiece' as a work of the highest quality prose or poetry, on a par with examples of classic literature by famous authors, and I don't think anyone was arguing that the thoughts expressed in the diary are, or should have been, remotely comparable with that kind of masterpiece. If the real James Maybrick had left school with a talent like that, I daresay his career would have taken a rather different course. And had the diary contained poetry and prose of a high enough quality to have been published in its own right as decent literature, it would have been all too obvious that the real Maybrick hadn't authored it.
What we should be looking at, surely, is whether the diary reads in any way like a serial killer's thoughts might have done, not whether its author was aiming for a Pulitzer prize for fiction. Is it not more of a dog's dinner of simplistic, poorly written drivel, doggerel and fantasy, ranging from self-pitying to self-congratulatory to self-loathing and back again, reflecting a hopelessly flawed individual, whose inner man-child refuses to obey the rules of a civilised adult society when it comes to acting out whatever criminal desires he may be harbouring?
Love,
Caz
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