Snooki and the Booki.

If the New York Times has anything to put on its best sellers list in 2012 that isn't a microwave oven instruction manual, the only people they could possibly blame are Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi and her ghost writer for discouraging English majors, and literate individuals the world over from ever writing again.

Ms. Polizzi's novel has earned (and I use the word tentatively) a spot on the New York Times best sellers list. While I cannot speak for the quality of the novel first hand I was struck hard by one particular line from an otherwise positive review of A Shore Thing on Amazon.com.

"[T]here are a few lines that do not make any sense (like when she refers to Ellis Island Immigrants coming off the Mayflower...you get it) but the story is actually quite intriguing."-EnglishLitLove

This is a disheartening thing to read if you are one of those individuals possessed of the opinion that hard work, study, and a deep appreciative understanding of the English language will make your writing popular and successful. Of course, many people have long accepted that sometimes very absurd people can become popular, or under the public eye at least. Snooki's meteoric rise to fame as the flagship of Italian American stereotypes along with her first mate Jwoww and the rest of the Jersey Shore crew is not something I begrudge her. If all our celebrities looked like Steven Hawkings, or had the personality of Steve Jobs the world would be significantly less enjoyable. But the point is Snooki's book is having as much trouble staying shelved as a Tequila-loving Guidette in heels has staying on her feet. People simply cannot get enough of it. I can attest to this by the many other positive reviews on the Amazon website.

So people really burn to know what life is like for Snooki, since that is pretty obviously what the book revolves around. If her picture on the cover and her name inflated and prominent atop the title, a stacked and tanned chest pushing at her birth name and the edges of the cover like a tight, low-cut dress, are not enough to convince you that her "Giovanna 'Gia' Spumanti" is the Stephen Dedalus to Snooki's James Joyce then a short perusing of the book's summary ought to convince you.

"Giovanna “Gia” Spumanti and her cousin Isabella “Bella” Rizzoli are going to have the sexiest summer ever. While they couldn’t be more different—pint-size Gia is a carefree, outspoken party girl and Bella is a tall, slender athlete who always holds her tongue—for the next month they’re ready to pouf up their hair, put on their stilettos, and soak up all that Seaside Heights, New Jersey, has to offer: hot guidos, cool clubs, fried Oreos, and lots of tequila."

 So sayeth Amazon. Snooki is such an easy target that it is almost unfair to mock her, but in this she has overstepped her bounds. Being dumb and famous has been debated in the past, but this is something worse. Snooki is dumb, famous, and published. I do not fault Snooki for concocting these 304 pages of silliness, her image is infinitely larger and more potent than her as a person. And her image is what people are buying. It is the people, curious, desirous, envious who purchase this novel who are at fault. They could have bought any air-headed novel but they chose this one because it came from the mind of Snooki as though possessed between the lines of it's dialogue was some secret code, some phantom glimmer of information needed to become famous.

Meanwhile people seeking something bigger than the perfect tan are out there writing as we speak, in vain, hoping to be discovered, hoping to be acknowledged. Many will never even be published. Pinpoint13 of Reddit.com phrased it excellently when he said,

"Somewhere an English grad student deep in student loans, eating Ramen and trying to get published is slitting his wrists."

  For those of you who are desperate to read the vacuous mind of someone accidentally famous just hoping to find out what special kind of dim-wittedness she possessed that allows her to do whatever she wants, now including dominating the world of literature with an idle bit of fluff, you will only be disappointed. I don't particularly care if you enjoyed the book. There are a million other bad romance novelists who need your $14.40 a good deal more than the star of a hit MTV reality TV show.

Snooki is, of course, terribly pleased with herself and expressed this on Twitter to the further cries of dismay from her would-be writing competitors left long in the dust of academia and cup noodles.

Congratulations Snooki, you did one thing that probably everyone who went to school with you felt pretty secure in saying you would never do. That at least is commendable. The fact that it seems to have been done with very little real thought or effort only makes it more so. Just as to why it happened I am still at a loss to say. For those of you struggling to get your writing published and wishing you could vent your rage on the Guidette kissed by fame and serendipity I have included below a gif of a particular scene that could not be aired on Jersey Shore.

So yes it's true, officially, what we suspected after Palin's book. Being a best selling author does not require any real talent or penchant for the craft of writing. But Snooki may have had a few things to teach the writers of history, namely that living life may be more important than writing about it, which is part of America's fascination with her and her friends. I shudder to think how a night at the beaches and clubs of New Jersey
may have changed the life of John Keats, but at the same time I can't help but think: "Here is a man who could have used some mixed drinks, fried oreos, and a night spent dancing." It's distinctly possible that with a habit of agitating muscle-bound juiceheads that Nicole's life will also not be overly long, but let it be known at least that she lived it fully, passionately, and sincerely. I do not defend the book, which is at best ridiculous, or the people tragically enthralled with the decadent lifestyle, but the girl writes shamelessly about her own life almost to the T. And those who cannot abide to see someone living their own dream are truly unhappy.