First, I recently read in the local paper about BookSwim's intent to break into the book rental business. Their business is located in Middlesex County.
Now, via Book Patrol, I hear that The Mayhem Poets, a Jersey-based slam poetry trio, have taken the prize in Microsoft's ideaWins. As winners of the contest, which sought the best small business idea from over 5,000 entrants, they will receive $100,000 and free retail space in New York. Although it's a shame their storefront will move next door, I can't fault them for following the money. However, their program, dedicated to bringing performance poetry into the classroom, travels. I am sure students in New Jersey will continue to benefit from The Mayhem Poets' most excellent cause.
You know, I tried to tell myself that Dave Eggers was probably a lovely person despite the fact that I disliked his memoir and thought What Is the What was badly plotted and written. Thanks to Gawker, I have changed my mind. What a tool.
It's an interesting concept, and I wish them the best of luck since the founders are a pair of Jersey boys. But, come on, $15 to $20 a month for book rentals? Are they serious? I mean, I understand how people make Netflix or Blockbuster Total Access worth the price. Watching a movie takes only a couple of hours, so such rentals can be mailed back on the same day they're received.
Books, on the other hand, require a longer commitment for most people. I'm not sure if anyone—besides speed readers—would be able to return rentals fast enough to come out ahead on the BookSwim membership cost. With the same amount of money and some smart shopping, I could easily buy three or four books a month and keep them forever. Free from the public library is an even better deal.
Or I could be totally wrong. It will be interesting to see how this venture makes out.
When I first got the news about HarperCollins' offering, I soon drifted away from their site to friendlier environs because I couldn't get it to work. I tried it again today and finally got the larger browser to launch after much insistent clicking. It has an advantage in that you can, with some squinting, read an entire page without scrolling, but its interface feels clunky. Plus, having to watch "loading" dots between every page tries my patience.
Google Book Search also has its own widget, which The Millions says, "points to a useful service, where readers can discover (and if they want to, buy) books that interest them." Maybe I'm unable to see the big picture, but I haven't yet found much useful about Google Book Search other than finding quotes. And even then I only get exactly what I'm looking for maybe half of the time. Besides being gigantic in both vertical and horizontal form, Google's widget is exceptionally ugly. And certain book covers are unreadable. And I haven't been able to figure out if you can force it to point at specific titles. And it serves up blanks when a suitable match can't be found. And the flashing between each set of search string results makes me go into seizures.
Loading...
And its code doesn't always play nice with other elements on a web page. If all you see above is "Loading...", Google's widget is being naughty.
In terms of who has the better viewer, I agree that Random House wins "the first round of the 'Widget Wars.'" Although, like HarperCollins' widget, it seems to launch the larger browser when it feels like it, I still think it's cool. I like being able to point to specific books, how the pages flip, and the search function (accessed by clicking on the binoculars). It also convinced me to want one of their books after reading the first chapter of the title I mentioned yesterday.
But, The Millions says, "These widgets...are akin to putting a big billboard on the side of your house and getting nothing in return." This is very true of the ones from HarperCollins and Google Book Search. Random House, however, allows you to customize the "Buy" button to point to your preferred online bookstore. For people like me, who have to monetize to cover the bandwidth bill, I applaud Random House for allowing site publishers to send buyers to a preferred affiliate program. Unfortunately, the customizable "Buy" button only works for the small viewer. If they change it so that I can also embed my affiliate code into the large viewer, I could be persuaded to promote more of their books.
So I received an e-mail from Random House about their new book search widget, called Insight:
If you click on it, you should get a larger, more readable window and be able to look through the first 57 pages of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. The widget is kind of cool, and, after reading the first chapter, I will probably pick up a copy of this book. Although there's been lots of teeth gnashing lately over scrotums, this story, written by Death and telling teens they will eventually die on the first page, seems much more titillating to me.
Update: If you ended up here because it's near the top of Google's search results for Random House's widget, you are surely disappointed. This post, which reviews three book widgets, is more informative: What the Widget?
It gave me a good chuckle since I've been to ALA a few times as a vendor. The penguin metaphor fits the biannual librarian migration quite nicely, and I especially appreciated the narrator's line, "There's a hungry vendor looking for a meal."
A little while later, I ran out to do errands. Since I was in the municipal area of town, I decided to stop at the public library to:
track down a 1040 booklet because the IRS stupidly sent me the wrong form and following convoluted tax instructions via the computer is making me rip my hair out, and
get a library card. Although I've lived here for more than a year, this task has been near the bottom of the priority list since I own several hundred unread books.
By the way, there were no forms at the library. Despite doing my own taxes by hand for more than 20 years, I think I should finally get with the times and file electronically.
Anyway, the librarian at the main desk fit the stereotype perfectly and was not unlike those in the video. She was oldish, wearing glasses, and had a sweater, complete with embroidered flower embellishments, pulled over her shoulders. I asked for a card and handed over my driver's license. The librarian was pleasant and accommodating as she silently tapped at the computer's keyboard.
As I waited for my card, I glanced around to check the place out. I'll be damned if there wasn't a glass case displaying several stuffed penguins and featuring books about penguins. It made me laugh. Aloud. I almost asked the librarian if she had seen the video, but my sudden outburst caused her to eye me with suspicion. I decided it was better to leave quietly. Although it's probably only conspiracy theory, I don't want my reading habits ending up in a secret government database.
Since last week was discussion week, I took time off from filling the in-between days with my own bookish drivel. I still surfed the book sites, though, and have been following a particular story with a lot if interest.
We just discussed a book by a Haitian American, so Black's plight and the flurry of activity around it stood out to me. Posts have been all over the place on this: from making early predictions to suggesting Black is white. I'm just a person who likes to read and have no idea of what's true or untrue. And I'm not writing to throw in my thoughts on racism since, being biracial myself, I have my own issues and don't have to go beyond my own family to encounter it. I simply find the situation and speculation fascinating. As I see it, three distinct voices are at the heart of the brouhaha.
The Good
Black has a champion in Monica Jackson, a romance and soon-to-be mystery novelist, who has tried her darndest to bring the issue of racism in publishing to the forefront. She's posted thoughts on her own blog, Romancing the Blog, and has left numerous comments in variousplaces discussing Black's predicament and complaint. In essence, Jackson argues against forcing an author into the African-American niche when the merit of the work should be enough to stand on its own. A noble cause and position even though the publisher's motives behind rejecting the book likely have more to do with money than racism. Yet, it's refreshing to see one passionately stand up for another in the face of knee-jerk reactions and criticism.
The Bad
I really like Return of the Reluctant, and I tend to see Edward Champion as the charismatic villain of litbloggers. From his posts, I get the impression that he hates most books that are wildly popular, wants everyone to know what an insider he is, and likes to stir up controversy, both sincere and feigned. Most of the time you can tell when he's trolling for an argument, but his recent mentions of the Black lawsuit are uncalled for. He declares "The Last Word on Millenia Black" but quickly reneges with an attempt to discredit a post on her blog and out her from behind a pen name. But, I have to laugh at how he took it upon himself to call the court, marvel at his litblogger turned Columbo gumption, and remind myself that his url isn't edrants.com for nothing.
The Ugly
Although The Publishing Contrarian may have had good intentions by wanting to point out that there's nothing wrong with niche marketing, her message is lost because she goes about it in such an insensitive way. Whether racism on the part of the publisher is real or perceived, TPC has no business scoffing at Black's feelings about the directive to recast her characters as African American. I also love how she quotes Black's use of "nigger treatment" then adds her own aside: "I can barely type that phrase, it is so offensive, but I am quoting her." Offensive to whom? An African-American person subjected to it or a white person being accused of it? Oh, and thanks for letting us know you're quoting because a) it'd be terrible if we thought you'd actually use that word and b) we're all so stupid and uneducated we missed the quotation marks.
Misguided attempt to disprove accusations of racism aside, TPC actually lost me on a marketing point. Yes, cross-shelving sells books and I like her idea of moving Black's books around various sections. But "New Fiction, Literary Fiction—Female Authors, General Fiction, and African American Fiction"? It's been years since I worked in publishing, but I think literary fiction denotes writing that doesn't fall into a specific genre, like mystery or sci-fi. I also believe that female, general, and AA are not necessarily subsets of literary fiction. And if I'm not mistaken, Black writes suspense/family saga. As a result, her books would have no business being in literary fiction, and such bad advice provides further proof that many people connected to the publishing industry have no idea what they're talking about.
Good or bad, I happen to have some of my own advice for TPC. First of all, you ruin your own credibility when you make a harsh criticism and then close your comments because you can't take the criticism back. Use single quotation marks inside double quotation marks. And finally, your blog is currently set to turn post titles into urls, so when-you-create-long-ass-post-titles-you-create-long-ass-urls-and-there-is-no-excuse-for-having-a-url-with-256-characters-in-it.
Today is Friday the 13th of the scariest month of the year, which aptly marks the release of the 13th book in A Series of Unfortunate Events. Although titled The End (Oh, Snicket, you rogue! No alliteration for the last book?), I strongly suspect that this will not be the last we hear of the Baudelaire orphans (Or is it? Could the abrupt flatness of the title mean it really is the end?). After all, there are paperbacks to release and promote. I'm still not over the fact that some of the books are already available in paperback for $3.99 to the school market, so I'm curious to find out what the pricing will be when mass market editions hit bookstores.
When I was teaching, I read the first 12 books during an informal competition with a student to see who could get to the end of The Penultimate Peril first. I beat the kid, but it wasn't a fair fight. I bought them from Scholastic for my classroom and didn't release each one to our library until I finished it. And then he had to contend with the rest of the class over who would actually get the book. He did ultimately read them all, but had to resort to going through a few of them twice while waiting for the next. Unfair or not, at least the competition generated some buzz over reading.
Even as an adult, I thoroughly enjoyed the Lemony Snicket books. From a marketing standpoint, the back cover blurbs are the best I've ever seen and the next-in-series teasers creatively generate anticipation for future books. They're fast-paced and easy to read, which was also noted by my former fourth graders, and you have to be pleased at kid's sense of accomplishment that comes with finishing 300+ pages. I especially liked the digressions on vocabulary and idiomatic expressions which subtly teach irony and wordplay in a fun way.
If you haven't read the first 12 books or need a refresher before tackling the 13th, here's a link to a Tim Curry narrated video, 12 Books in 120 Seconds. Other trailers and information about the series can be found at lemonysnicket.com.
Addendum: Via Bookninja (Who cares about the Nobel, indeed! We will soon find out the identity of Beatrice.), here's a link to The New York Times article about the release, which includes a few tantalizing details.
When the 2006 Quill Book Awards were announced, I had noticed flack on several literary blogs bemoaning the People's Choice-like voting as well the additional publicity for titles from already big presses. Some simply don't like popularity. Personally, I didn't pay the announcement much attention because I'm really bad at being up on book news and mostly read backlist anyway.
Although consumer-driven voting is sort of redundant since the masses already cast votes with dollars, I'm more looking forward to the Quills now that I've had a chance to read The Observer article What's the best novel in the past 25 years? The newspaper polled "about 150 writers and 'literary sages'" and I think their pick is crap. Maybe I'm too American or don't understand post-apartheid South Africa or am not literary enough, but I found the winner, J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace, to be tediously boring. Tediously boring is not always a bad thing, though. I read it while house/cat sitting and it certainly helped me fall asleep in a strange bed. And I'm comforted in knowing I'm not alone in my opinion.
The Quills will be awarded tomorrow, which happens to also be the day for the Man Booker Prize announcement. Disgrace is a past Booker winner. Hmm. I think I'm more interested in what the people have to say.
Having worked for a Chicago publisher for eight years, I was a little surprised when I began reading Jessa Crispin?s article in The Book Standard about the lack of publishers in The Windy City. I mean, I had a publishing job and knew plenty of people who worked at local competitors because of the incestuous nature of the business. If you stayed in it long enough, your career could take you to several houses by being hired, being folded into a larger company, or being sold off as parts. During my tenure, I worked for two publishers without switching desks and left just as we were about to be bought again. As far as I know, there are plenty of publishers in Chicago.
Once I got into the article, I realized that Crispin is writing about trade publishing and, more specifically, literature. Aha. No argument there. A Chicagoan with aspirations to edit the next Great American Novel will need to consider moving to New York or Los Angeles.
However, it is absolutely possible to have a publishing career in Chicago if you can handle not being cool and hip. I worked for a decidedly unsexy educational publisher and was able to do well enough to live in an apartment on a private beach with a view of both The Gold Coast and The Sears Tower. Of course, my neighborhood was also neither cool nor hip but I never felt like complaining whenever I looked out the window.
Throw a rock in Chicago, and you?re likely to hit a big-name educational publisher:
Spread out to the suburbs, and there are dozens more in the metropolitan area. Add trade nonfiction houses, the many university presses, and book distributors and a very fine living is to be had in the Chicago publishing industry. You won?t necessarily rub elbows with famous authors, but there?s always a chance The Rock Bottom Remainders could get together again for a future BEA.
During my most recent visit with Kate, the first thing I asked was for her CD collection so I could stealcopy borrow some music and the second was whether or not she had WiFi so I wouldn?t have to type all the song titles. When I stealcopy borrow, I prefer to expend no more energy than necessary. Since I?m all into being wireless, Kate sent me an e-mail about WiFi service now available at most Barnes & Noble stores in New Jersey.
Being a person who is into both books and WiFi, I already knew. The last few times I went to B&N, I noticed several people flipping through books, sipping Grande White Chocolate Mocha Frappuccinos, and surfing the Internet all at the same time. And in public no less. Sure, I have access to books, coffee, and the Internet at home. But B&N has more books, better coffee, and Wifi that probably doesn?t break down every half hour because the idiot neighbor?s wireless signal constantly interferes with yours. As I waited for an Iced Venti Soy Latte on one particular outing, I picked up a brochure on B&N?s WiFi service. $3.95 for two hours or $19.95 a month. Oof. At least fighting with the idiot neighbor?s signal is free.
(By the way, thank you, idiot neighbor, for not being smart enough to secure your network. Whenever you take us down, we stealcopy borrow your broadband.)
Here?s a tip: If you need access to both books and wireless, try the library. Some of them, like The New York Public Library, offer free WiFi service. Of course, you?d have to skip the Tall Double-Shot Americano with Room.
You know, I really enjoy books that are outside the mainstream. They're weird and interesting and make for good book conversation. Plus, I've heard that Carlton Mellick III, who writes bizarro punk speculative fiction, is supposed to have some wild plot ideas. And some of his books are set in dystopias, a subject I find fascinating. But...
I'm not exactly sure I want to be seen on the subway holding any of these:
Here's something about publishing that really gets under my skin.
Before becoming a teacher, I worked for an educational book publisher. I realize that I made a backwards career move since a lot of teachers go into educational publishing in order to make more money. However, the money isn't all that much better and most publishers have scummy ethics.
Anyway, I read a lot of children's books. When I'm finished, I either put the book in my classroom library for my students or give it to an upper grade teacher if it's too difficult. Each year, my school has a week-long book fair at which parents, students, and teachers can purchase books at a discount. I've wanted to read the Lemony Snicket books, so I bought one of each volume available at the fair because they were fairly cheap:
Children's series books are usually designed so that you can read any volume without having to start at the very beginning. For example, every single Magic Tree House book includes an opening explanation of who Jack & Annie are and what the deal is with the tree house. A Series of Unfortunate Events, like Harry Potter, doesn't include background information. As a result, I want to read The Bad Beginning (Book 1) before starting in on the rest.
Yesterday, I went to Barnes & Noble to pick up the first book. They only had hardcover books so I asked a clerk if they had any paperbacks. He said that they weren't available in paperback. I begged to differ since I had four paperbacks at home. I left without The Bad Beginning after spending $70 on five other books including next month's selection. Sure, I could have plunked down the extra $9 (after my educator's discount) for the hardcover, but it was the principle. I should be able to buy a full-priced paperback for $5.
Upon closer inspection of my paperbacks, I noticed a note on the back cover: "This edition is only available for distribution through the school market." I went to the publisher's web site and ordered The Bad Beginning in paperback and the rest of the titles I'm missing. But, I was a little put off by the fact that they don't have The Austere Academy (Book 5). They also won't ship my order anywhere except school, as a means of making sure I'm part of the "school market."
So, long story short: Anyone should be able to walk into a bookstore and buy a $5 paperback when one's been printed. However, the book industry would rather sell a $12 hardcover and run away with your $6.
was badly plotted and written. 
. The widget is kind of cool, and, after reading the first chapter, I will probably pick up a copy of this book. Although there's been lots of teeth gnashing lately over 
, 
) and problems with her publisher. Long story short: African-American author writes book featuring white characters, publisher 
(Oh, Snicket, you rogue! No alliteration for the last book?), I strongly suspect that this will not be the last we hear of the Baudelaire orphans (Or is it? Could the abrupt flatness of the title mean it really is the end?). After all, there are paperbacks to release and promote. I'm still not over the fact that some of the books are already available in 
first. I beat the kid, but it wasn't a fair fight. I bought them from Scholastic for my classroom and didn't release each one to our library until I finished it. And then he had to contend with the rest of the class over who would actually get the book. He did ultimately read them all, but had to resort to going through a few of them twice while waiting for the next. Unfair or not, at least the competition generated some buzz over reading.
, to be tediously boring. Tediously boring is not always a bad thing, though. I read it while house/cat sitting and it certainly helped me fall asleep in a strange bed. And I'm comforted in knowing 
is up for best graphic novel. While we've all been freaking out over its possible removal from a public library, Bechdel blogs: 
, so I bought one of each volume available at the fair because they were fairly cheap:
before starting in on the rest.
. They also won't ship my order anywhere except school, as a means of making sure I'm part of the "school market."