Forbid Ye Seven, Which Unlucky Be

And this can be demonstrated by categorizing the first twenty nine novels that came to mind by the number of syllables in their titles:

One Syllable
Dune (Herbert, 1965)
One (Karp, 1953)

Two Syllables
White Noise (DeLillo, 1985)
Nusquam (Sterzinger, 2011)

Three Syllables
War and Peace (Tolstoy, 1869)
Frankenstein (Shelley, 1818)
Dracula (Stoker, 1897)
The Hobbit (Tolkein, 1937)
Moby Dick (Melville, 1851)
The Bell Jar (Plath, 1963)
The Night Land (Hodgson, 1912)

Four Syllables
Infinite Jest (Wallace, 1996)
The Pale King* (Wallace, 2011)
Heart of Darkness (Conrad, 1899)

Five Syllables
Pride and Prejudice (Austen, 1813)
Crime and Punishment (Dostoevsky, 1866)
The Three Musketeers (Dumas, 1844)
The Recognitions (Gaddis, 1955)

Six Syllables
The Broom of the System (Wallace, 1987)
The Sun Also Rises (Hemingway, 1926)
To Kill A Mockingbird (Lee, 1960)
The Lair of the White Worm (Stoker, 1911)

Six Plus Syllables
Kiss of the Spider Woman (Puig, 1976)
Eternal Curse on the Reader of These Pages (Puig, 1980)
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Dahl, 1964)
One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest (Kesey, 1962)
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Hugo, 1831)
The Phantom of the Opera (Leroux, 1909)
Interview With The Vampire (Rice, 1976)

You'll notice that among the 1-6 syllable categories, the books are good, and some are even great, but in each of the seven titles in the final category, there's at least one serious vector of utter inauspiciousness.

: Kiss of the Spider Woman is about people in jail, and being in jail is an inauspicious situation.
: Eternal Curse on the Reader of These Pages is inauspicious due to the curse, although many books that curse you don't have any disclaimers, so it's sort of safe as long as you never read it for any reason or even think about it for too long.
: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a classic, is what you're saying to me, and I know you're saying it because I'm a great big know-it-all. But on the cover of the copy in my house before I could read was a picture of Charlie and the others dancing about while chocolate dripped from the ceiling, which I believed was blood.
: One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest is about people who are sort of in jail, Kiss of the Spider Woman-style, but it's more of a jail of the mind, which in many/all ways is far worse.
: The Hunchback of Notre Dame is obviously about a very unfortunate person who will nevertheless probably go to Heaven--so ultimately is actually fortunate, but nobody would want his life for some reason, so it's on this list.
: The Phantom of the Opera. I forget what happens, does he get splashed with some kind of acid? Like hydrochloric acid (HCl) or like sulfuric acid (H2SO4), which, when combined with copper(II) oxide (CuO) produces one part a salt that a number of human beings call copper(II) sulfate (CuSO4) and one part perfectly chuggable water?
: Interview With the Vampire. My arcane research has led me to numerous eastern European incunabula in which there are strange references to a creature called upir, which I propose is cognate with the final word of this book's title. The Upir dwells in graveyards, pondering its next liquid meal, of a fluid so vile that it shall not be named, as it reanimates every part of yon upir from its quadrillions of blood-drenched fangs outwards!

Everyone in the entire world is saying, "Peter, aren't the books with titles of under seven syllables amenable to the very same arguments you make about why the seven-or-more-syllable titles are invariably of inauspicious books? Like The Bell Jar for example was published just moments before its--" which I interrupt because I want to explain to you that your reasoning here seems sound, but my argument is that seven is an inauspicious number and not the other way around, as most studies conclude, so all those other books are good or great, case closed. That's why they're great books, and it's also why they're called great books. Now all humans have seen the unbroken thread of reasoning that leads me to lack any troubled feeling about this thesis of mine.

* Some shall argue that 'Pale' is a one-syllable word, implying that The Pale King ought to be moved to the category of books possessing titles of four syllables. 'Pale' is a two syllable word, which I shall demonstrate in the sub-argument below. If you are on my team in this respect you are dismissed, because you weren't allowed to be dismissed before because I believe I have so much more control over what you do than I actually do in real life.

Does 'pale' have one syllable, like 'where' or two, like 'countess?' Consider these two quatrains of unrhymed doggerel in trochaic trimeter:

Pale is the former
Countess of the garden.
Medicine her garden
Underneath the heavens.

Pale friends are so charming
Where on earth are lilies?
Distant are my guesses
As to where are lilies.

If 'pale' has one syllable, then 'pale friends' has two syllables, unless you feel that 'friends' has some number of syllables other than one, which you might if you think all that crud about 'pale,' which would be insane and mean you're bad.

Back To The Inauspicious Home Syllable