From the Department of Almost Too Good to Be True, a dinner party for the authors of Dinner Party Disasters turns, well, disastrous. From Publishers Weekly (”Bloodshed at Connecticut Book Party,” by Lynn Andriani):

As entrées were being enjoyed, a McCain supporter and an Obama supporter, having exhausted their verbal arguments, lunged at each other with fists flying. Eventually the kitchen staff came to the rescue and separated the two men, but not before some blood was shed and the well-heeled guests were shaken up. After a cooling down period, the rambunctious guests returned to the table (with revised seat assignments) and ate dessert.

“It’s funny now, but it wasn’t so funny then,” said coauthor Stokes. “The irony was that as the evening began we all kidded around about how someone should stage a disaster at one of these book parties—and lo and behold, it happened.”

Are they sure this wasn’t staged?

Rawi Hage’s debut novel, De Niro’s Game, has won “the world’s richest literary prize,” the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. How rich is it? A cool 100,000 Euros, which, according to Bloomberg, translates to 154,000 simoleons.

From Joanne Wilkinson’s Booklist review:

Both terse and lyrical, Hage’s narrative is a wonder, alternately referencing modern American action heroes and ancient Arabic imagery. The blend of the two is as startling as it is beautiful.

Yes, things have been quiet at Likely Stories this week, but the June 1 & 15 issue of Booklist is now live at www.booklistonline.com. And . . . REaD ALERT!

Even the most successful authors can still learn a thing or two. From The Onion (”Now That I’ve Learned About Foreshadowing, I’m Going To Use It In All Of My Stories,” by John Grisham):

Guess what? There is this really neat literary device I just learned about, and it’s called “foreshadowing.” It’s this thing where, in the beginning of the story, you put in all these little “hints” about stuff that’s going to happen later on. I can’t wait to try it out!

I think the best part about foreshadowing is that it doesn’t come right out and tell everyone what’s going to happen. Instead, it does this thing called “planting a seed” in the reader’s mind, so that the ending will still be a surprise but also seem logical. At least that’s what it said on WritersZone.com, which is a really good site with lots of fun tips on writing.

Foreshadowing is awesome.

(Thanks, Mary Fran!)

Well, this is cool. I’m pleased to find myself in very good company–alongside Booklist associate editor Donna Seaman and Booklist reviewer Mark Eleveld, to name two–in the NewCity Lit 50, published to coincide with the Chicago Tribune Printers Row Book Fair.

And speaking of Printers Row, if you’re in Chicago and you’re planning to attend, you can catch me on Sunday, June 8th on the “Thrill of Mystery” panel at the University Center’s Park/Fountain rooms. I’ll be appearing with Joseph Weisberg (An Ordinary Spy), Raymond Benson (Sweetie’s Diamonds), Jonathan Santlofer (The Murder Notebook), and Ellis Goodman (Bear Any Burden). Bill Savage will be the moderator.

If you’d like to see Donna Seaman (Writers on the Air), she’ll be conversing with Julia Bachrach and Jo Ann Nathan (Inspired by Nature) and Peggy Macnamara (Architecture by Birds and Insects) at 1 p.m. on Saturday in the University Center’s River Room. You can also catch her discussing “The Art of Book Reviewing” with David Ulin (The Myth of Solid Ground) and Elizabeth Taylor (American Pharaoh) at 10:30 a.m. on Sunday in the University Center’s Loop Room.

You could also have watched her having a conversation with Richard Preston (The Wild Trees) at 10:30 a.m. on Saturday in the Harold Washington Library Center multi-purpose room, but Donna just received word that Preston is unwell and won’t be making the trip–the event has been canceled. Best wishes for a speedy recovery!

I’m only on installment 58 (of 675) in War and Peace, so I doubt I’ll be taking on any more inbox-only reading, but DailyLit has announced another free offering of bit-sized book chunklets: Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife, by Kate Walker (Harlequin). Here’s what you’d be getting into:

Raul Esteban has always wanted Alannah.

She is purity and passion combined! But she rejected him, and now the proud Spanish aristocrat is determined that she will pay for her mistake—with her body!

Raul mistakenly believes Alannah is no longer a naive girl—until one night of passion proves he has taken her virginity! Now Raul will do whatever it takes to keep her at his mercy….

Just read a terrific essay by Luc Sante about his personal library (”The Book Collection That Devoured My Life,” the Wall Street Journal):

I’m not a snob about books, but I’m probably a show-off — as who isn’t? My showing-off is of a pretty low-key if not completely abstruse sort, though. No one has ever noticed — much less commented upon — my collections of minor German Romantics, accounts by UFO abductees, books by and about hoboes, or memoirs by former employees of the New York Evening Graphic. It’s rather a closed circle; I impress myself.

Armor and ammunition for the many among us who find ourselves having to justify, often to otherwise entirely reasonable spouses, why we own books we may never read.

Now this is my kind of literary feud. There’s been bad blood between Derek Walcott (The Prodigal, 2004) and V. S. Naipaul (A Writer’s People, 2008) for years, but Walcott just took it to a whole new level, debuting a poem, “The Mongoose,” onstage at the Calabash Literary Festival in Kingston, Jamaica. From the Guardian (”Rhyme and punishment for Naipaul,” by Daniel Trilling):

Telling the audience, ‘I think you’ll recognise Mr Naipaul … I’m going to be nasty’, Walcott launched into The Mongoose amid a hubbub of surprised gasps and nervous laughter from the crowd.

A sample:

I have been bitten, I must avoid infection
Or else I’ll be as dead as Naipaul’s fiction
Read his last novels, you’ll see just
what I mean
A lethargy, approaching the obscene
The model is more ho-hum than Dickens

This year isn’t going too well for Naipaul. First Patrick French’s biography, The World Is What It Is, now this–and it’s only June. But perhaps Naipaul will have the last laugh:

But Walcott’s attack is unlikely to be ignored. French says that Naipaul will most likely wait until he has devised a suitably literary way of striking back. ‘Knowing Naipaul, he’ll say nothing and then at some point he will lash out. I remember him saying to me once: “I settle all my accounts, I settle all my accounts.” He gets even in his own way, even if he has to bide his time.’

Update: Here’s audio! (It’s at the very end.)

So I actually had it in my calendar last week that the Audies were going to be announced, but I didn’t get around to it, and then today I went to the site and the only listing I saw right away was a table of contents that requires a ridiculous amount of clicking to see all of the winners. And given that the Audies already have a ridiculous number of categories, I am simply going to note that the Audiobook of the Year was The Chopin Manuscript, one of those Naked Came the Collaborators kind of deals. If you need to know more, and you like using your mouse, then by all means navigate your way to www.theaudies.com.

I guess a cynic might say that nobody’s reading because everybody’s publishing. Either way, the traditional paper book is obviously practically extinct. Some staggering numbers for you to ponder over the weekend (”On-Demand Titles Drive Jump in Book Output,” by Jim Milliot, Publishers Weekly):

The production of traditional books rose 1% in 2007, to 276,649 new titles and editions, but the output of on-demand, short run and unclassified titles soared from 21,936 in 2006 to 134,773 last year, according to preliminary figures released Wednesday by R.R. Bowker. The combination of the two categories results in a 39% increase in output to 411,422.