After the prize…let there be backlash!

In the Guardian (”It’s time to ditch the prize guys“), Robert McCrum calls for reform:

For radical reform, the prize, the sponsorship, and probably the administration of the prize, should be transferred to an organisation that understands the subtle and complex opportunities of arts promotion. It’s high time to say thank you and good night to the Man Group and to Booker’s ancien regime.

He makes reference to “Robert Harris’s magnificent assault on its ‘evils’ in the Evening Standard”–the original text of which I can’t find on the site of the Standard (probably one of those “information wants to be cuddled” organizations), but which I can find, strangely enough, on the Gulf Times (”The Booker Prize is evil, says bestselling British author,” by Lucy Cavendish):

“The Booker casts a long shadow over literary life. It has swollen like a monstrous boil obscuring anything that was ever good about it. It encourages and fosters the difference between supposed ‘literary’ novels and other perfectly good books. It reveres a certain type of novel yet great writers of the world may never have featured in it and lots of books that are short-listed in it disappear without a trace.”

Via BoingBoing, the perfect bookcases for those who prefer furniture to books:

(Thanks, Ben!)

Clark Hoyt, the New York Times‘ public editor, offers an interesting look at how his paper’s best-seller lists are compiled (”Books for the Ages, if Not for the Best-Seller List“). Even if you feel that there is probably too much attention paid to best-seller lists and starred reviews (as I do), it’s worth reading the article to understand more about this important cultural force.

But the short version is that the best-seller lists aren’t simply comprised of the books that have the best sales. (For that, you’ll need to turn to BookScan.) At the Times, editorial prerogative is exercised, even though the books editor doesn’t edit the best-seller list.

Confused yet? Read the article. 

My favorite part is merely an aside:

Not making the list, or falling off - some books last only a week - can be devastating. "If you’re not on the list and you’re a publisher, you get a very anguished call from your author," Kirshbaum said. "Why aren’t I on the list?"

Because you am’nt working hard enough on yours grammar.

So apparently, the short-story collection that made Raymond Carver’s reputation, What We Talk about When We Talk about Love (1981), wasn’t really what he had in mind. I should say “allegedly.” Carver’s widow, Tess Gallagher (Dear Ghosts, 2006), wants to publish a retitled version (Beginners) that reverses many of the reputedly heavy edits performed by Gordon Lish.

Lish himself has cast doubt over the status of the “original documents”, and his successor at Knopf, Gary Fisketjon, told the New York Times he was “appalled” at the idea. “I would rather dig my friend Ray Carver out of the ground,” he said. “I don’t understand what Tess’s interest in doing this is except to rewrite history.”

Yes, that sound is me rubbing my hands together, eagerly anticipating more acrimony. It’s a heck of a story and raises a lot of questions. Even though Carver did plead with Lish not to publish the edited version, was he unhappy when the resulting book made him famous? And would he now want Gallagher to bring an earlier version to light? How authentic is the manuscript? And if it stinks, will Carver’s fans be forced to revise their opinions of him?

I also always love learning about books that were heavily influenced by editors. I believe that it happens a lot less often nowadays–cost-cutting and so forth–but it’s a great reminder that writing, like all art forms, is still a collaborative medium.

I haven’t forgotten about my pledge to read a book by Harlan Coben. It’s taking me longer than I planned, but I did take the first step last night: I bought a copy of The Woods.

Just a friendly reminder that, if you’re in Chicago, I’ll be reading, signing, and celebrating the release of my new book, My Fellow Americans, from 5:30-7:30 tonight at After-Words (23 E. Illinois).

(If you’re not in Chicago, I’ll still be doing all of the above, but I’d imagine there’s a lot smaller chance that you’ll be able to join us.)

Join us! There will be food and drink and quite possibly SEVERE WEATHER outside.

But I can’t imagine a better place to be trapped by severe weather than a bookstore, providing there is food and drink. Which there will be. Or did I mention that already?

At the recently concluded Frankfurt Book Fair, the books were flying off the shelves–and those taking the books weren’t always paying for them. And the publishers didn’t always mind, either. Why? Because the books that get stolen the most at Frankfurt often end up selling the best in bookstores (”Great News: They’re Stealing Our Books!” by Christel Kucharz, ABC News):

“We don’t know how many books were stolen altogether,” a marketing expert for German publisher Luebbe told ABC News. “But it is fair to say that thousands of books are stolen every year. And, of course, people only steal interesting books, so those books most stolen are likely to be the ones ending up on the best-seller lists.”

Unofficially, the book most stolen may have been Dan Brown’s Diabolus, which is already #2 on Der Spiegel’s bestseller list. Yes, but where was it before the stealing started?

I am sworn by law to inform you that hard-working documentarian Dan Kraus (also an associate editor of American Libraries and a frequent Likely Stories tipster) has a new DVD that’s about to “drop” (isn’t that how the kids say it?): Sheriff.

I haven’t seen Sheriff yet–Dan loaned me an old screener and then made me promise to wait until the official release in order that I not be deprived of copious extra footage–but I did just see his most recent film, Musician, in the theater (where it was musically introduced by its subject, Ken Vandermark)–and let me tell you, Dan Kraus is a filmmaker to watch.

(Well, he makes films that you should watch. It would be funny if you watched him and not the movies. Not that he’s hard to look at or anything. OK, now I’m just digging myself deeper.)

What is Sheriff about? It’s about a powerful attorney and the deal he makes with the devil. Just kidding. Here’s a description:

Sheriff Ronald E. Hewett oversees the rural Southern community of Brunswick County, North Carolina. Heading up what used to be a backwards, back-woods department, Hewett strives to maintain order and civility in a region fraught with murder, robbery, and the occasional theft of ceramic lawn ornaments. To accomplish this impossible task, Hewett uses the only tools at his disposal - God, guns, and the hundreds of blood relatives that populate his jurisdiction.

The Onion said it was almost as good as anything Frederick Wiseman ever made. And Booklist liked it too.

Way to go, Dan! When do you sleep?

Well, well, well. I knew it. Well, I didn’t know it, but in getting excited about the horse race between Lloyd Jones and Ian McEwan, I forgot to insert a line reading, “…but, of course, I’m sure it will be Anne Enright, a real long-shot, who comes from behind to pip them both at the post.”

And wouldn’t you know it? (Read our starred review of The Gathering.)

Far from climbing the podium and shouting, “I’m queen of the world!”, Enright promptly issued a disclaimer (”Anne Enright Wins Booker Prize,” by Jill Lawless, AP):

Enright said people looking for a cheery read should not pick up her book. “It is the intellectual equivalent of a Hollywood weepy,” she said.

Even the judges weren’t exactly pumping their fists:

Howard Davies, the chairman of the judging panel, acknowledged the book was “a little bleak” in places, but praised it as “a very readable novel.” 

“Readable”? “Readable”?! You may know prestigious-book-award-judging, pal, but stay away from book reviewing. A couple of weeks ago I heard Booklist Adult Books Editor Brad Hooper tell a roomful of librarians that “readable,” being essentially meaningless, was likely to make him return a review to sender for rewriting. One hopes that an unreadable novel wouldn’t be shortlisted by the Booker, much less take home the prize.

Get your bets down. Jones (Mister Pip), who started as a 20-1 long shot, is now the 6-4 favorite to win the Booker Prize (”New Zealand author biggest literary Booker gamble,” by Paul Majendie, Reuters):

Graham Sharpe, spokesman for bookmakers William Hill, said: “There has never been a betting plunge like this on the Booker.”

Those Kiwis are crazy. Actually, I think they might be right. Remember that McEwan (On Chesil Beach) has won before–and his status as an early favorite may have be the thing that jinxes him.