Patrick,

It is very personal. I was reading the fiction written by a friend who has never been a very good writer. It is the sort of thing that one does every so often in a fit of duty, only to wonder whether or not one's duty is to read friend's sentimental stuff or whether one's duty is to completely ignore it and encourage said friend to pursue other things.

Anyway, this fellow's writing has always been overwrought and sentimental, and this latest piece was no exception. What struck me was the fact that the whole thing was structured around a particularly maudlin song by a particularly maudlin band. Then I realized that this fellow would be a much better writer if certain musical preferences were tossed out the window, or at least left in the dustbin of misspent youth.

I do think that this music can inspire some good work: I have seen it done, even though I am astounded by it. The danger is not in the music, but in the particular writer's fascination with said music.

This only raises the question: why are you reading maudlin fiction, Erik?

Besides, the use, not the abuse, is key- the question is whether any *good* fiction has been inspired by said music. If yes, then who cares about the chaff produced as well?