Wednesday, March 5, 2008
More on Truthiness
Here's a link to a article (thanks Benwah) from the NY Sun explaining why publishers don't fact check more. As I tried to point out yesterday, if publishers fact check every line, it means either book prices will have to go up significantly or less books will be published, and I'm sure all of you aspiring writers out there don't want that.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Easy as ABC
I was hoping to write a few more book reviews but, shamefully, I haven't finished a book in a while. One of these days there will be an onslaught of recently-read books, but I'm afraid there is a review pile which is rapidly growing and never diminishing. Sorry! Instead, I shall offer a little mind-troubler. My Aunt Jacq. and I are regular correspondents (which reminds me, it's my turn to write - will get to it soon, Jacq!) and used to often set little literary challenges for each other. One of the ones I liked best was an ABC sort of puzzle. The variety which doesn't leave one's mind all day...
It's authors whose titles begin with the same letter as their surname... like Austen and... erm... no, let's try Bronte and... wait a moment... Dickens and Dombey and Son, there's one. Woolf and The Waves. You get the idea... harder than it thinks. Let's see if we can cobble together an alphabet between us - I've got D and W sorted. Only ABCEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVXYZ to cover...
The Truthiness of Memoirs
Another day, another faux memoir. In Love and Consequences, Margaret Seltzer (writing as Margaret Jones) describes her life growing up half-white, half-Native American foster child in gang-infested South Central Los Angeles, running drugs for the Bloods. Too bad none of that is true.
What's a little eery is that the book was released by Riverhead, who published James Frey's second book, My Friend Leonard, and they employ the editor who originally bought A Million Little Pieces. So the next question is... how can this keep happening again and again?
First, let me point out the obvious - people have been exaggerating and fictionalizing true events and personal histories since the beginning of the written word. The only difference is that there are now tools available today to research and verify what was previously taken at face value as true.
So why doesn't the agent or publisher? Well, in the agent's case, we simply don't have the time and resources to check every detail of every book we represent. As I'm sure you've gathered by now from reading my blog, an agent's duties are varied and plentiful, and investigative journalist is just not in the job description.
So what about the editor and publisher? Well, the editor certainly doesn't have the time either to investigate fully each and every nonfiction title they edit. In fact, doing this would have to be a full time job - which is why it's journalists who are breaking the news.
So it appears to me that the only other option available is for the publisher to hire in-house or freelance investigators. Ignoring for now how this changes completely the philosophical and emotional relationship between author and publisher, it would cause havoc on the financial template of publishing, a template that already suffers.
As a result, it seems to me that the problem needs to be fixed on the writer end of things - i.e. stop lying and start calling your memoir a novel.
What's a little eery is that the book was released by Riverhead, who published James Frey's second book, My Friend Leonard, and they employ the editor who originally bought A Million Little Pieces. So the next question is... how can this keep happening again and again?
First, let me point out the obvious - people have been exaggerating and fictionalizing true events and personal histories since the beginning of the written word. The only difference is that there are now tools available today to research and verify what was previously taken at face value as true.
So why doesn't the agent or publisher? Well, in the agent's case, we simply don't have the time and resources to check every detail of every book we represent. As I'm sure you've gathered by now from reading my blog, an agent's duties are varied and plentiful, and investigative journalist is just not in the job description.
So what about the editor and publisher? Well, the editor certainly doesn't have the time either to investigate fully each and every nonfiction title they edit. In fact, doing this would have to be a full time job - which is why it's journalists who are breaking the news.
So it appears to me that the only other option available is for the publisher to hire in-house or freelance investigators. Ignoring for now how this changes completely the philosophical and emotional relationship between author and publisher, it would cause havoc on the financial template of publishing, a template that already suffers.
As a result, it seems to me that the problem needs to be fixed on the writer end of things - i.e. stop lying and start calling your memoir a novel.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Mostly Books Event
Oh, what a lovely evening. I've just come back from Abingdon, more specifically the wonderful Mostly Books, where Angela Young and Eliza Graham were speaking. What a lot of links for you to visit. These two novelists are on the shortlist for World Book Day's Spread The Word competition, whittled down from a longlist of 100. Voting has finished and the winner will be announced soon, but (heartwarming truism alert) all the shortlist are winners, especially these lovely ladies. You'll know by now that I love Angela Young's Speaking of Love, and I broke my Lentern fast and brought home Eliza Graham's Playing With The Moon to read when I can.
This evening was cosy, held on the shop floor, and with a genuine love of books oozing through the atmosphere, from the authors, the audience and perhaps especially Mark who runs Mostly Books. Hope he won't mind that I've stolen a picture from his webpage... It is encouraging and smile-making to know that booklovers are still running bookshops - yes, there has to be the commercial side, but Mostly Books shows the two can run alongside one another, to mutual benefit if not millionairedom.
My journey to the event was a little haphazard. Someone has carelessly dug up half of Abingdon Road in Oxford, the one road which I was fairly confident would lead to Abingdon. I flung myself onto the nearest bus which mentioned the town on its board... and was slightly disconcerted when it headed off in completely the opposite direction. I think we must have visited every village in Oxfordshire on the way. But, at 7.30 exactly, I was able to dash up to the bookshop, grab my wine, meet Angela, and settle down for an extremely enjoyable evening.
Since the voting was done and dusted, Angela and Eliza didn't need to convince us to vote for Spread The Word - well, they'd be preaching to the converted, anyway. Instead, they chatted about how they
came to write their respective novels, the editing process, how they found their publishers (Google "small publishers" is a good step, apparently!), how they got the book known (Google "sell my novel" - seeing a pattern?) and finally the difference the shortlist has made to them. In my attempts to claim fame by association, I was tickled pink that Angela mentioned Stuck-in-a-Book and her original email, asking whether I'd consider Speaking of Love for my 50 Books You Must Read But May Not Have Heard About. She called the email cheeky - but turned out to be entirely justified, of course! And there it sits, at no.14.
I also had the chance to meet local author Mary Cavanagh, whose The Crowded Bed was reviewed on here a while back - and lovely Mary even gave me a lift home. Thank you Mary! It was a pleasure to finally meet Angela, and Eliza of course, and to see the much-anticipated Mostly Books. I do hope to be back for other events in the future - and if you possibly can get to Abingdon, I encourage you to do the same!
This evening was cosy, held on the shop floor, and with a genuine love of books oozing through the atmosphere, from the authors, the audience and perhaps especially Mark who runs Mostly Books. Hope he won't mind that I've stolen a picture from his webpage... It is encouraging and smile-making to know that booklovers are still running bookshops - yes, there has to be the commercial side, but Mostly Books shows the two can run alongside one another, to mutual benefit if not millionairedom.
My journey to the event was a little haphazard. Someone has carelessly dug up half of Abingdon Road in Oxford, the one road which I was fairly confident would lead to Abingdon. I flung myself onto the nearest bus which mentioned the town on its board... and was slightly disconcerted when it headed off in completely the opposite direction. I think we must have visited every village in Oxfordshire on the way. But, at 7.30 exactly, I was able to dash up to the bookshop, grab my wine, meet Angela, and settle down for an extremely enjoyable evening.
Since the voting was done and dusted, Angela and Eliza didn't need to convince us to vote for Spread The Word - well, they'd be preaching to the converted, anyway. Instead, they chatted about how they
came to write their respective novels, the editing process, how they found their publishers (Google "small publishers" is a good step, apparently!), how they got the book known (Google "sell my novel" - seeing a pattern?) and finally the difference the shortlist has made to them. In my attempts to claim fame by association, I was tickled pink that Angela mentioned Stuck-in-a-Book and her original email, asking whether I'd consider Speaking of Love for my 50 Books You Must Read But May Not Have Heard About. She called the email cheeky - but turned out to be entirely justified, of course! And there it sits, at no.14.I also had the chance to meet local author Mary Cavanagh, whose The Crowded Bed was reviewed on here a while back - and lovely Mary even gave me a lift home. Thank you Mary! It was a pleasure to finally meet Angela, and Eliza of course, and to see the much-anticipated Mostly Books. I do hope to be back for other events in the future - and if you possibly can get to Abingdon, I encourage you to do the same!
Important Query Announcement
Starting March 31st, I will only accept and respond to queries via my agency submission form. I will not respond to queries emailed directly to me. In addition, I will not respond to queries sent by mail or by messenger, regardless of whether you include a self-addressed, stamped envelope.
If for some reason you cannot access the internet and/or my website then you may mail your query, but I will not respond unless the project interests me. But if this means you, then how are you reading my blog? And for that matter, if a tree falls down in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Is deja vu for real? What happened to Amelia Earhart? What doesn't bacon taste good with?
Ugh, too much philosophy for a Monday morning.
If for some reason you cannot access the internet and/or my website then you may mail your query, but I will not respond unless the project interests me. But if this means you, then how are you reading my blog? And for that matter, if a tree falls down in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Is deja vu for real? What happened to Amelia Earhart? What doesn't bacon taste good with?
Ugh, too much philosophy for a Monday morning.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Been there, Scene it.
And now I am a graduate! The ceremony was a mystery, I said "Do fidem" but what I was fideming to do, I have no idea - hopefully nothing too nefarious. Magdalen kindly provided a three-course meal beforehand, and some tea and sandwiches afterwards - the seal on the day was going up Magdalen Tower in full Graduation regalia. Actually, going up (and especially coming down) aren't fun experiences, but thankfully Our Vicar was on hand to give me help and encouragement. Neither Latin nor heights are my cup of tea. Cups of tea, on the other hand, very much are.
The point of today's stitch-inducingly-funny pun is another ponderer. What's your favourite scene in literature? Not book, not character,
but scene. Might be quite a tricky one to think about - some books don't lend themselves to being split into scenes. Mrs. Dalloway, with its lack of chapters, for example. Some are very obviously divided into separate scenes - Rebecca comes to mind, for some reason. Well, it might not surprise you that my favourite scene comes from Pride and Prejudice - an exchange between two wonderful female characters which remains sharp and witty on every syllable, not a word out of place, and a delight to read. The Jennifer Ehle/Barbara Leigh-Hunt portrayal of it is nothing short of rapturous. Know which one I mean yet? It's so brilliant, it's included at some length below...
As always, over to you. Favourite scene in literature, and why? Think on't... and you have to listen to me now. I'm a graduate, doncha know.
The point of today's stitch-inducingly-funny pun is another ponderer. What's your favourite scene in literature? Not book, not character,
but scene. Might be quite a tricky one to think about - some books don't lend themselves to being split into scenes. Mrs. Dalloway, with its lack of chapters, for example. Some are very obviously divided into separate scenes - Rebecca comes to mind, for some reason. Well, it might not surprise you that my favourite scene comes from Pride and Prejudice - an exchange between two wonderful female characters which remains sharp and witty on every syllable, not a word out of place, and a delight to read. The Jennifer Ehle/Barbara Leigh-Hunt portrayal of it is nothing short of rapturous. Know which one I mean yet? It's so brilliant, it's included at some length below...As always, over to you. Favourite scene in literature, and why? Think on't... and you have to listen to me now. I'm a graduate, doncha know.
(Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen; from Chapter 56)
As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner: --
"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come."
Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.
"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here."
"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you."
"If you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring with astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?"
"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."
"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence."
"If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?"
"I never heard that it was."
"And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?"
"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer."
"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?"
"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible."
"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have drawn him in."
"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it."
"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns."
"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit."
"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?"
"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me."
Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied,
"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of her's. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit engagement with Miss De Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?"
"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss De Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?"
"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by every one connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us."
"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine."
"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment."
"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me."
"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, honourable, and ancient -- though untitled -- families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up."
"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal."
"True. You are a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition."
"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you."
"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?"
Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a moment's deliberation,
"I am not."
Lady Catherine seemed pleased.
"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?"
"I will make no promise of the kind."
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