Books too Long

There is a Cult of Brevity that holds a certain amount of sway in the writing world. Some of its devotees are teachers (and students) in formal creative writing programs where the coin of the realm is short stories, or fragments thereof. Others are editors and journalists who, as a condition of their employment, must produce work of fixed length.  Among people who follow the Cult of Brevity, the ability to write pieces that are not very long is thought to be the mark of the competent, well-trained, disciplined writer.

So you can imagine what such people think of people who write longer pieces, such as myself!

Many of the Cult of Brevity's more hard-core believers feel that writing long stuff is a sign of disgusting incontinence, egomania, pusillanimous editors, the decline of Western civilization, or all of the above.  As must be obvious, I am not an adherent of the Cult of Brevity. Personally, I am delighted to read extremely long books, or series of books, as long as they hold my interest. To me it seems self-evident that the Cult of Brevity is grievously mistaken, and am not inclined to dispute it here.