So last night, when Motoko Rich's article announcing that Thomas Harris had delivered yet another manuscript featuring Hannibal Lecter just in time for publication around the Christmas holidays, I conducted an informal straw poll of people I know and trust. And the overwhelming response? A groan, followed by mutterings as to why this book is truly necessary.

I mean, first off, we have the title, HANNIBAL RISING. Golly gee, that's oh so creative (I actually preferred the working title, BEHIND THE MASK, though it wasn't exactly briliant, either.) Then we have the subject matter, which covers the young Hannibal from age 6 through 20 and sheds light on his crappy childhood. In other words, backstory. And then there's the fact that Harris, famous for scorning any editorial input, turned in the book last month and it'll be out on December 5 - you do the math.

But more to the point, HANNIBAL RISING, no matter how good it is (and with that quick turnaround time and previous experiences with HANNIBAL) further dilutes what was once one of the most riveting, compelling characters in crime fiction. When he showed up in RED DRAGON as a supporting player, it was enough to know that he was a shrewd manipulator and a psychopath - who really needed more? But by essentially falling in love with his lead, Harris turned Lecter into Hannibal the Cannibal transforming a scary villain into a freakish, almost cuddly sideshow. I mean what's next: Hannibal bobbleheads? Lecter action figures? Or even better, LECTER: THE ANIMATED SERIES?

Worse still is that Harris is a talented writer, but he hasn't written anything new - with fresh characters, a clean slate and growth in his writing - in 25 years. That's an awfully long time to be stuck to one character, who now embodies cannibalism not just of a literal sense, but a metaphorical and commercial one, too.