(no subject)

Today I picked up a copy of the newspaper 'Metro' on the train. One of the front page stories, or more like a picture and a 'see page 19' (amongst that Iraq stuff, which I don't have time to go into right now, and some royal scandal thingamy), was about a girl who'd been kidnapped and then found after nine months. And the first thing I thought was 'cool', the second thing was 'I'd love to read a book about that', and it took quite a while before I could get around to feeling kind of sorry for her, although I still had a sneaking suspicion that although it'd obviously been terrifying and yadda yadda, it'd actually been quite cool. (She was the daughter of a millionaire, and the person who captured her was some kind of 'religious fanatic' (religion unspecified) who considered himself a 'prophet for the homeless' and lived in 'a teepee'. It all sounded very much like something I'd love to write.)

This whole reaction strikes me as somehow Wrong, but I'm not really sure what to do about it.