I am currently holed up with several fine ladies and bottles of Heineken and then I will hit the town. This is the way to spend an early Saturday night. I am contemplating removing my shirt.
Not many people ran away from me today. In fact, I suspect many people lingered because of my previous post. Perhaps they feared being reported running away. Whatever the case, there were many fine conversations. Only a handful of people ran away. So I will report no more individuals who scurried along such lines. I will only report the silly person at Duke University Press who saw the Bat Segundo business card and told me in very humorless language that she did not specialize in books about bats. I told this person that I had previously interviewed one of her authors for the show and that she might want to read the not so fine print that specified that I was not, in fact, a small mammal enthusiast — at least not in any zealous, rabid-eyed form. She rolled her eyes and I left. I am beginning to understand that there are reasons why small presses stay pretty small.
I’m particularly troubled by the Jim Crow treatment given to African-American-based publishing houses. They are all relegated to one area of the floor. I walked down this floor and found myself the only Caucasian person there. I looked for two water fountains, but I’m pleased to report that I found pleasant people.
The big booths (in particular, the Simon & Schuster crowd, who resemble the most vapid B&T hipsters one might find outside of Central Park West; it can’t be an accident that these selfsame schmucks are also the house who want to take away auctorial rights with this lifetime scam) are filled, for the most part, with the most austere and humorless people one can find in the publishing industry. Thankfully, there are fun guys like Chris Artis who scurry such efforts against bonhomie.
Contrary to Mr. Sarvas’ previous gripes against him, Steve Wasserman is actually a lot of fun. He’ll be making a Segundo appearance when the BEA podcasts go up.
Many thanks to Small Beer’s Kelly Link and Gavin Grant for the energy-inducing chocolate that helped me through the late afternoon.
At sometime around 3PM, John Lithgow needed to eat a sandwich. I thought immediately of what Dr. Emilio Lizardo would say. I had hoped to laugh-a while I could. I would impersonate a monkey boy or a transvestite. But there was no time. At 3PM, Lithgow needed to eat a sandwich. And when a man needs to eat a sandwich, you don’t interview him, particularly when you associate him with silly roles.
I’m off to attend more parties. I’m hoping to get up three panel reports on Sunday. I apologize for my delay. Again, at Javits, it’s a case of bamboozling journalists who deign to use wi-fi. But hopefully these bulleted reports will suffice in the meantime.