My review of Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End appears in today’s Philly Inquirer.

Why isn’t Nicholson Baker publishing fiction anymore? I ask this question not just because I like his name — the surname a durable representation of Anglicism, the Christian name evocative of an underrated form of American currency that will, in a few short years, become as meaningless as its baser mono-cent cousin, the two names meshing together into a five-syllable charge of the light brigade — but because I am fond of his work, which has dealt in large part with describing minutiae — and by minutiae, I mean the bric-a-brac we take for granted, the pleasures of a straw or a laundry tag, all of it representative of an unexpected euphoria and enthusiasm with the quotidian.

A brief aside: I now have on my desk a 453.6 gram bag of Rold Gold pretzels, cloaked in a sallow hue that I find ghastly, purchased a few evenings ago because more diminutive packagings of pretzels weren’t available at the convenience store immediately around the corner, and because I was too lazy to walk the additional distance to a store that might have a more reasonable size. The bag claims to be a “One Pound Value Bag,” and, if we are to round up the 453.59237 grams to one pound measure to the tenth, we do indeed have 453.6 grams. Of course, since I do not possess a scale or any measuring device that will register this pretzel bag’s mass, I must trust that this bag, before I unsealed its top, its unsealed edge now staring back at me with six crenelated horizontal ridges and its rumpled plastic exterior resting reasonably firm until I decide to unsettle it with a slight movement, did in fact weigh one pound. I must therefore place trust in the Frito Lay Company that I am indeed getting “one pound” of value, even though I paid $2.49 for it when I would have preferred to pay around a dollar or so for a smaller bag of pretzels that would have served my nefarious snacking purpose. So there is, in fact, an excess of pretzels that has rested, untouched, on my desk for two nights. And I don’t know if I will eat the remainder. When I also consider the additional fact that, given these lack of measuring tools, there is no way I could have matched the reported 453.6 grams against the real 453.6 grams, I don’t feel any sense of “value” at all. Even if I were to disseminate the balance of these pretzels amongst the vagrants in my neighborhood or even the drunk and noisy teenagers who I have espied through my bay window (after hearing some unsettling noises), one of whom has just regurgitated on the steps leading up to my apartment building, I’m thinking they would likely reject my offering of pretzels in lieu of a hot meal or a forty ounce bottle or even cold hard cash. So the “value,” which suggests an egalitarian dissemination of goods that evokes a Robin Hood-like figure spreading the wealth, is wrong on multiple levels. And I am stuck with excess pretzels.

If I were to read a new Nicholson Baker volume, there is no doubt in my mind that he could put this conundrum in perspective. I suspect, with his keen eye for the picayune, he would have anticipated my current pretzel contretemps and he would have meditated at length upon this notion of “value,” a word unabashedly printed upon too many things, as if the word “Value” is a kind of naked lady you find in a deck of cards.

I was reminded of Mr. Baker tonight, when I found myself without a book to read on the way home. This caused a slight sense of panic, because, after countless hundreds of journeys on my bus line, I had grown quite accustomed to the many buildings through the window along my commute and had grown very comfortable with this idea of submerging myself into a book to pass the time. And I walked to City Lights, and with the help of the excellent Suzanne, a friendly and intelligent young woman who I once had dinner with and whose name I embarrassingly forgot, even when she had cried, “Ed!” as she saw my rumpled and book-starved form perusing many literary options, I managed to discover a Nicholson Baker volume I had not yet read, a book called Room Temperature which I am now halfway through. And Baker’s concern for these small details and these small conflicts that we take for granted has made me sad that he’s decided to sit it out since Checkpoint, a book savaged by Leon Wieseltier in the most callow of ways. (You can find the details here. I miss Mr. Orthofer’s lengthy reports and I hope we will see another one soon.)

So I must ask what has happened to Nicholson Baker. In the madness of our times, his fictive perspective is badly missed and sorely needed. I could always count upon looking through a dictionary when reading his books. I could always count upon seeing the world around me with fresh eyes. Plus, it helps that he was a bit of a pervert. I can’t say these things of a lot of authors. But I can say them of Nicholson Baker. I don’t know if he has a muse that any of us can speed-dial. But the literary world seems somehow lesser without Baker.

Millions of Crabs Invade and Island – Click Here for more great videos and pictures!

My review of Richard Gwyn’s The Color of a Dog Running Away is now up at Newsday. Gwyn’s book is one of my four favorite books of 2007 (so far).

Mark Sarvas provides the first of a much needed glimpse inside the inner trappings of n+1. I’m as shocked as anyone to learn that there was a time in which the people at n+1 were friendly with litbloggers. But, like all enfants terrible, something caused these manboys to lapse into unintentional self-parody and attack the people who, oddly enough, are probably in the best position to sing their praises. Since Keith Gessen and Marco Roth, as far as I know, lack the introspective know-how and perspicacity to pursue therapy, I certainly hope that Mark’s generosity, in which he will reveal the shifting character of these two men, will assist all parties.

I stumbled upon this site, which features a dramatic reading of a grammatically unsound breakup note. But it occurred to me that the man who read this note was more fond of playing Snidely Whiplash than coming to terms with the pain and heartbreak extant within.

So here’s my version (MP3, 2:30).

Here’s the note:

Dear Loser,[Chris]~~~~!!!!!

I thought you liked me you said it yourself I hate you .People only say you asked me out because you needed a date for the dance and that after the dance you would dump me well guess what bastert i dumped you cause you were thinking that i cheated on you i didnt so like idiots that you guys are and so smart that you are you called me a slut.I hung up on you cause you tol me it on the phone because i guess you werent man enough to tell me it in my face!I hate you and also guess what my mother hates you to that she the one who put me to do this ,you come to breakfast every morning and I aint stupid you try to sit next to me and my lil bro who only 7YRS old hates you to and dont even know what you did and is always blocking your chair.haha!I went out with another boy after you and after we were over you an idiot dared you even tried to ask me out again i didnt break up with him for you OK! I hate you ive always hated you spreading to everyone that i cheated on you when you just got jealouse that i used to talk to your friends to your so jealouse you automatically think i like them well guess maybe i do maybe i dont gotta problem you aint my boyfriend anymore I dont have to tell you who i like or who iam with and why got it i dont like you anymore the other day you told me that I have to tell you who I like or who Iam thinking of going out with its none of your buisness got that to you loser!I hate you and I know you still like me but i dont like you i dont care what your stupid friends say you make me touch your hands for stupid reasons u accidentally say you hugged me i will never like you again I HATE YOU I HATE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING IN THIS DAMN WORLDDDDDDDDDD id rather date a spider or rat den u ur soooo ugly and fat !!!!!!!!!!And then saying that i loooooooved you pleasssse!!!!!!!!!!!Your such n ass wipe n bastert!! I HATE YOOOOOOOOOOU

Well bi you piece of shit i have more things to do right now then remember YOU

New Scientist: “Glow-in-the-dark materials that shine with the whole range of visible colours, and can even produce white light, have been developed by Japanese researchers. The team from Ryukoku University, Kyoto, say they can be used to provide lighting and clearly readable signs in emergencies without the need for electricity.”

Garth at The Millions has some choice words to say about an “essay” that appeared in Issue 5 of n + 1, attacking litblogs. I’ve read the article in question.

Let me just say that I’m not against third parties taking litblogs to task. In fact, informed criticism is a healthy manner of keeping the conversation alive. What I object to is an uninformed statement that goes after any target without using supporting examples. n + 1, with this essay and the adolescent posturing seen in “The Decivilizing Process” has cemented its status as a worthless publication that is intellectually unfit to stand up against The Believer. I’ll confess that it took me a few years to warm up to The Believer, but, after a shaky start, it seems to be turning a corner, expanding its scope, penetrating more obscure and darker pastures and offering all manner of helpful reference points for the curious within its articles. Sure, The Believer still has a bit of a naive sense of wonder attached, and I’m not sure if its play-nice review coverage is entirely honest. But I’ve read the March 2007 issue of The Believer and greatly enjoyed this quirky article on Roberto Bolaño and Stephen Elliott’s lengthy essay, which is one of the most candid essays I’ve seen in The Believer‘s pages.

n + 1, by contrast, is nothing more than hollow posturing. More noise than signal. It believes that risk can be found through poorly thought out statements of outrage. It dabbles in masturbation, literally and figuratively, in a manner reminiscent of obnoxious liberal arts majors with too much time on their hands. Take this excerpt:

At one point the feminist writer Lonnie Barbach even suggested that men’s propensity to ejaculate before their female partners had achieved orgasm was the result not of selfishness but of an oppressive anti-masturbatory regime that taught boys to come as quickly as possible so as to avoid detection by their parents and schoolmasters.

Now to me, regardless of whether I agree with this or not, Barbach’s is an interesting idea. And a good essayist would address the current masturbation situation, either though specific quotes or interviews, or attempt to examine why Barbach drew this association. But instead of trying to place this Barbach paraphrase into context, or to even consider Barbach’s premise at face value, this assertion is followed up with these sentences: “Now this—this was solidarity. Masturbation had achieved the height of its moral prestige.”

$12 for this nonsense? For generalizations more content to waltz around an idea rather than plunge into it?

Why pay $12 when I can have some starry-eyed undergraduate hand me some pamphlet laced with this kind of doggerel for free?

From Gwenda:

Turn to page 123 in your work-in-progress. (If you haven’t gotten to page 123 yet, then turn to page 23. If you haven’t gotten there yet, then get busy and write page 23.) Count down four sentences and then instead of just the fifth sentence, give us the whole paragraph.

Here’s mine:

Kate stretched out her arms, as Alex removed her coat in a manner that struck Jack as vaguely seductive. As the coat slipped off, Kate looked to Jack like a beardless Christ with a good body. He didn’t know whether to be horrified or turned on.

Reports from last night’s NBCC are trickling in, with perhaps the most comprehensive one to be found at Galleycat. Add Daniel Mendelsohn to the roster of elitist fogies who just don’t get it. From Ron Hogan’s report:

As he accepted the autobiography award for The Lost, Daniel Mendelsohn said that he was especially proud to get this prize “in an era in which every who owns a Dell laptop is a published critic,” while the NBCC prize comes from “people who know what they’re talking about.” Well, as one of the great electronic unwashed, to heck with you, and you’re still completely wrong about Peanuts. OK, fine, we kid because we love and all that, but perhaps the remark rankled more because of NBCC president John Freeman’s defensive opening remarks about how “book reviews are the gateway to our culture,” aimed at establishing the continuing relevance of book reviewers in an age when bloggers are attracting more and more of the readers who do, in fact, crave good information about books and writers about which they might well like to know more. This is especially ironic, given that the NBCC board of directors now has two members, Lizzie Skurnick and Jessa Crispin, who are as “famous” if not more so for their online writing as for whatever they’ve done in print. The debate continues…

UPDATE: Daniel Mendelsohn has clarified his comments at Galleycat, writing, “The obvious meaning of my comment, made in the context of accepting an award from my fellow professional book critics, was that it is an honor to have the high esteem of one’s fellow professionals—writers whose published opinions of books, unlike those of random online commentators, are necessarily subject to many stages of vetting, editing, proofing, and above all editorial evaluation by people knowledgeable in the field of literature, and which are therefore more likely, broadly speaking, to be ‘expert’: which is, as far as I’m concerned, the kind of opinion that is meaningful.”

I’m happy that Mendelsohn has expressed himself more thoroughly, but I still think that he might want to bop around the blogosphere a bit more before making such a charge. I agree with him that having a laptop does not necessarily make one a reviewer or a reporter. But while I’m not really the kind of guy inclined to toot his own horn, the roundtable discussions featured on this site (as well as the Litblog Co-Op) have, in fact, involved organizing people who are qualified to comment upon the books they read (in that they actually read the book from start to finish, a task that eludes such “experts” as Malcolm Jones), fixing grammar, playing doubting Thomas, and encouraging alternative lines of argument. The Bat Segundo podcasts involve at least ten hours of reading and preliminary research for each guest, and often many more. Whether any of this is sufficiently “expert” is, of course, subject to your interpretation. I’ve never professed to be a literary “expert,” but I do try to initiate thought and conversations that don’t appear to be practiced by the “experts” who fail to read the books of the authors they interview or review.

Richard Grayson, author of And to Think That He Kissed Him on Lorimer Street and With Hitler in New York and, most recently, the mastermind who fooled Gawker, attended yesterday morning’s NBCC panel on genre. He was kind enough to send in the following report, which reveals many interesting details:

March 8, 2007, 11:00 AM
The Mandarin at the Minimart: What We Talk about When We Talk about Mass Market Fiction

More and more often professional critics are called upon to review mass-market fiction. Mysteries, thrillers, romances, science fiction, ghetto lit — editors are getting more aggressive about assigning them, and literary writers (Roth, Ishiguro, McCarthy, Chabon, Atwood) more fearless about borrowing from them. Why do critics review genre fiction so condescendingly? Why does genre fiction get so little critical attention? Who are the hacks, and who are the pros, and how do we tell them apart – and do literary critics have the skills to do it? Join moderator and Time book critic Lev Grossman in conversation with novelist Walter Mosley, Publishers Weekly Reviews Director Louisa Ermelino, Little, Brown executive editor Reagan Arthur, and Entertainment Weekly book editor Thom Geier for a discussion about these issues and more.
(The New School University , Wolf Conference Room, 65 Fifth Avenue , Room 229)

~ Free and open to the public.

I got there about 15 minutes early and seemed to be one of the few members of the public there. Nearly everyone else, I guess, were newspaper book section editors, literary critics, people in publishing, etc. As a former taker of minutes at the Brooklyn College student assembly in the early ‘70s and many other academic meetings and weird clubs, I made extensive notes, which are kind of illegible now, but I thought people who couldn’t attend the panel might be interested in reading:

Before the panel, the critics were talking about the decline of book pages in newspapers, like the recent news of the folding of the Los Angeles Times Sunday book section into a larger section of opinion articles. One man (I wish I knew who these people were, sorry) talked about how online reviews may take the place of reviews in the paper. John Freeman of the NBCC said that the Philadelphia Inquirer’s book editor, Frank Wilson, is leading the way with his Books, Inq. blog that has apparently drawn traffic to the newspaper’s book reviews. Someone discussed that some papers put a few book reviews online only, and they don’t pay for these reviews, and someone else worried about the danger that this would only justify publishers who want to take away physical space in the newspaper – unlike print, putting reviews online costs nothing – and they might then decide, hey, if we’re not paying online book reviewers, why bother paying the reviewers in the dead-trees version?

John Freeman then talked about how authors who come to the Twin Cities get reviews and profiles in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, are interviewed on the local NPR station, give stage talks and go to bookstores; he said publicity should be bundled in a creative format, but the newspaper is integral to this. He wasn’t sure how the NBCC could be involved.

A woman (Helen?) spoke about meeting the new editor of the L.A. Times, a Mr. O’Shea, and she talked about moving book sections from Sundays, when the papers are so huge, to Saturdays; someone else noted that in the metropolitan area, New York Times subscribers already get the NYT Book Review on Saturday so maybe they have more time to read it.

Another man said Mr. O’Shea of the L.A. Times is a friend and that he really cares about books. Whether that translates to more book coverage, he wasn’t sure, but this editor was definitely not an enemy of book coverage. (Someone then said, I think, that he savaged Freakonomics in a review.)

Freeman said they had to wrap up the discussion because the panel was going to start, but he wanted ideas what NBCC could do (lobbying? events?) to help newspaper book sections raise their profiles. He told people with ideas to contact the NBCC board members.

Members talked about how the NBCC blog, Critical Mass, was a great step forward (there were kudos to Rebecca Skloot at this point) as was the fact that members could pay their dues online, which has improved revenue. Freeman closed by reminding NBCC members that March was the time to renew their membership and pay their dues.

Then Lev Grossman of Time and the other panel members took over the table at the front of the room. (I came in late, so I had to sit right up in front of them.) Here’s a kind of transcript. I may have some things messed up. My notes are pretty much a scrawl.

Grossman talked about the genesis of the panel. A few years ago he was in Palm Beach, Florida, to write a profile of James Patterson, and he felt uncomfortable, not just because he was tapering off his antidepressants: He didn’t know what critical language to use regarding Patterson’s work other than “lousy.” He said genre fiction was “hard to grasp for me” although he understands its appeal, but it was like a Higgs-Boson particle for him, not easy to describe critically and fill up three pages of Time. So today’s panel topic was taken to the board members of NBCC, and it had caused a lot of controversy. He read some critical emails, one of which said simply, “Genre fiction is inferior, mediocre.” Another email (or comment post, I’m not sure which) took a sarcastic tone, making fun of the NBCC deigning to discuss something that its members looked down their noses at. (I think it was sarcastic; Freeman said so, but otherwise it was hard to tell).

Tom Geier from EW: Why, for god’s sake, should we assign reviews [of genre books]? I’m not sure what a genre book is. Literary books are genre – consider coming-of-age novels that are so formulaic. Yes, I assign both commercial and literary books because that’s the world of books.

Walter Mosley was addressed by Lev Grossman as “a writer of popular fiction” and asked how he was treated by reviewers. Mosley said he generally got good reviews, except for Entertainment Weekly. He noted the crowd (I’m a bad judge of numbers, maybe 60? 75?) was very white and said all over New York roomfuls of white people like the NBCC members defined what culture is. He said coming-of-age novels are the genre in literary America . It’s impossible to find an genuinely original book that’s literary: they’re all imitative to some degree.

Lev Grossman asked what the dividing line was, if there was one, between literary and genre fiction.

Mosley said that he wrote all kinds of books and it was hard to say what the dividing line is. The tag he’s often given is that he’s the writer who created the first black detective, but of course he didn’t. He mentions Ted —– (I didn’t catch the name) and George Pelecanos and said they don’t get reviewed. Once critics have put you down as a genre author, they want to keep you in there. They give his non-mystery books reviews in the mystery section.

Grossman asked about bookstores because that’s where the hard decisions about who goes where get made.

Mosley said he’s never once gone into the African-American section of a bookstore. Toni Morrison is there, though she’s also with literary fiction.

Louisa Ermelino of PW said they review 100 books a week, including sci fi (they all called it that; no one said SF), mystery, etc. and they put a lot in their “mass market paperback” section. So PW has more latitude than newspapers. It’s a slippery slope. PW has a mystery editor, but sometimes they don’t know if a book is a literary thriller or a genre mystery and it’s a dilemma where to put the review. SF series books are very hard to review in the New York Times Book Review or Entertainment Weekly, but PW can make room for some reviews of them.

Ermelino went on to say it’s a matter of individual taste and that she’s addicted to Pringles potato chips. Books are in fact entertainment; however, the dividing line between genre and literary is there. Her own second novel contained a murder, and she was told by an editor to take out the murder because otherwise the book would be considered detective fiction. She closed by saying genre is in some ways a purely American concept; the demarcation between genre and literary fiction doesn’t really exist in Europe.

Mosley said that the American division is “pure capitalism.” Reagan Arthur of Little, Brown edits some writers seen as “transcending genre.” He asked Reagan Arthur how she sees these books, if she thinks of them as genre fiction.

Reagan Arthur, said yes, with George [Pelecanos?] and Kate [Atkinson?], it’s a different story. Kate’s first book won the Whitbread Prize over Salman Rushdie’s Satanic Verses. Her “genre” book got reviewed seriously because of her literary past, but it also brought her a totally new audience. Arthur mentioned other writers like Ian Rankin; she doesn’t consider them “crime novelists.”

Lev Grossman said (I think; my notes are a bit hazy) that Rankin was considered a crime writer and Atkinson literary. Reagan Arthur said she wants Rankin to be taken seriously and noted he wrote his Ph.D. dissertation on Ruth Rendell. Walter Mosley said Robert Parker wrote his dissertation on Raymond Chandler. In any case, things are different in Britain , where crime novels are regularly reviewed and even highlighted alongside literary fiction.

Mosley said he thought the smartest writers wrote science fiction. At that point Grossman brought up the heretofore unmentioned romance genre and called it “radioactive: reviewers don’t touch it.” An audience member shouted out that was because all the readers were women. Lev Grossman said that one-third of all novels published were, in fact, romance novels.

Louisa Ermelino said that at PW, they review certain romance novels under mass market paperback; I believe she said they review four a month. She added, “Good writing is good writing.” People talked about what a great story The Godfather was but how badly written parts of it were, and someone said the same was true of early Stephen King novels.

Walter Mosley said there was less good writing in the romance genre than, say, in science fiction. He added there was lots of really bad “literary” writing. PW’s Ermelino: “Oh yes.” EW’s Tom Geier: Some people find some genres off-putting; they don’t want to read 300 pages about space aliens. Ermelino: Alien is a great novel. Geier said he just knew the film. Mosely said, “A book is a book.” Yeah, Ermelino said, but PW and other review media are sent galleys labeled “suspense,” “romance,” “science fiction” – so partly it’s the publishers’ doing separating genre fiction from literary or general fiction.

Lev Grossman noted that Cormac McCarthy did a genre novel, that Philip K. Dick has been enshrined in the Library of America (he just got the galleys); Grossman said Dick has brilliant ideas but “the prose is bad.” Then he mentioned Susannah Clarke’s books; some are genre, some aren’t.

Reagan Arthur said how books are seen all depends upon how the books are “published” rather than the actual works themselves. She mentioned a vampire or Dracula book (I didn’t catch what she was referring to) which she viewed as “literary/historical” – clearly not for the same audience who likes Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles. A novel of Susannah Clarke’s may have supernatural elements, but it’s “bigger” than just that. It’s not just for the literary reader and not just for the genre reader. It’s all about story anyway. Lev Grossman said, “You’ll get genre readers and it will also catch the literary market.”

Walter Mosley said that book readers were one thing, they were eclectic, but critics are “a whole ‘nother thing.” His mystery characters are somehow always seen by critics as more complex than the characters in his non-mystery books. In the L.A. Times reviews, the reviewer is always telling him to stick to Easy Rawlins novels; by now his publisher has stopped sending that newspaper his non-Easy books because of that. Mosley said he had to leave one publisher because they said they couldn’t publish one of his books, that they didn’t “do” science fiction.

Tom Geier from EW said Kate Atkinson can “go genre,” that Philip Roth can do alternate history in The Plot Against America and literary reviewers who don’t know that genre actually give Roth credit for inventing that kind of book, as if he were the first one to do it –- when there have been many alternate history novels written for years. The literary community can be blind to what they do not know. For example, critics who don’t know comics may have a hard time with Chabon or Lethem. Walter Mosley: “Well, their books are good, but their comics suck.”

Mosley said it’s very hard for writers to shift genres and seconded Geier’s notion of literary critic’s ignorance of genre. He brought up Octavia Butler; literary people ignored this fine writer. She told Mosley she once gave one of her books to a neighbor couple, and then, asking them how she liked it, they said, “Oh, we saw it was science fiction so we gave it to our kids.”

Tom Geier referred to a Helen Vendler interview in which said she doesn’t review younger poets who rely on so many pop culture references because she’s not familiar with them and therefore is not qualified to criticize such poetry. Lev Grossman referred to the schism between high and low culture brought about by modernism. The schism didn’t exist in the 18th century, although it started in the 19th century when popular literature was both stigmatized and feminized. Postmodern is supposed to be a melding of high and low culture, however.

Louisa Ermelino said that a hundred years from now, people are more likely going to be reading Stephen King than Philip Roth. Why would the Library of America be doing Philip K. Dick if he’s a bad writer? The notion of what a writer is, is changing. Dickens is still not considered literary among the Oxford/Cambridge crowd.

An audience member (it could have been Ron Hogan; I am very bad with names and faces) said newspaper book review sections are on their deathbeds and as far as popular culture is concerned, they don’t care if the review sections disappear because they were never covered in them anyway. Maybe newspaper review sections will have to become more relevant?

Tom Geier: There’s a simple way to do it; you do monthly SF roundups like EW does. These joint reviews make a bigger impact for the books. EW groups together books by Patterson, Sophie Kinsella, et. al. – they can group them as a particular genre and review them that way. Louisa Ermelino: There may be limited space, but they always seem to cover Stephen King.

Walter Mosley said it is literary fiction that is at the margins. He talked about the people on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn who sell large quantities of books invisible to and unknown by the literary community. (He’s referring to the many “urban” lit books I see sold by street sellers on Flatbush Avenue and on the Fulton Street mall.)

Reagan Arthur: What’s the purpose of a review if books will sell without a single review? She noted that the Denver Post seems to review more non-literary books than any other newspaper. The authors like the ones Walter Mosley was referring to probably sell more books than do much-reviewed novels by Claire Messud and Marsha Pessl, who got tons of reviews. Audiences manage to find these other books without any reviews.

An audience member (Sarah Gold?) noted that romance books have their own websites that contain reviews trusted by people who read romances. And they have their own critics who specialize in romances.

Chauncey Mabe, book editor of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel (the only one there I really knew fairly well) got up and said his paper doesn’t review romances for the same reason that restaurant critics don’t review McDonald’s: “it’s the same experience all the time.” The paper does regularly review mysteries. Good writing and bad writing can be found in both kinds of books. He found Ian McEwan’s Saturday atrocious. Then he said, “Literary fiction is a genre.” Every genre’s adherents have a romanticized history of the genre and everything can be good writing. Mosley: “Everything but romance?” Mabe: “Yes.” A woman said that she, like Chauncey, once hated romance but she managed to find some well-written novels in the genre – but they weren’t easy to locate: “It took work.” Mabe said they did review Nora Roberts and Janet Evanovich, whom he didn’t consider romance. Harlequin novels are romance.

Sybil Steinberg in the audience said that at PW, she used to get hate mail from romance writers. She said she cast a net out for reviewers of romance books, but a lot of people didn’t want to review those novels. And some of the strictly-romance reviewers’ reviews would be filled the same purple prose in the bad romance novels. It’s important, she said, with limited review space, to review good books. Walter Mosley: That kind of thinking can hurt writers, though, because they get no attention at all.

Someone in the audience (Peter, Lev Grossman called him) noted that NBCC has never nominated a genre book for an award. The argument could be made that we celebrate literary fiction (he mentioned Chabon and Lethem); we can easily say why these books deserve notice and an award.

Walter Mosley said it’s because of (elite?) education that they review the books they do. It’s also why there are no black people in the room. (Someone piped up: Yes, there are.) He mentioned a literary award for poetry and wondered why no Asian-American poet had ever won it. The poetry critics he asked this of said they didn’t know any Asian-American poets.

Chauncey Mabe said that Lethem is a science fiction writer, just a really good one. Walter Mosley said, “Readers are catholic; critics are not.” Readers, but not critics, will read both Philip Roth and Samuel R. Delany. (At that point I nodded, because I love them both, and then I noticed that Mosley was looking at me.) He brought up Edward P. Jones. Where were the critics when he was so many years between books, struggling in his job? Anyway, Mosley said, there’s a kind of tyranny today in publishing: authors must sell 50,000 books; if it’s just 20,000, the publishers will stop publishing them.

John Freeman said he learned about Octavia Butler and Samuel R. Delany in college courses. Universities, he and Lev Grossman said, are probably more open to acknowledging teaching genre today than at any time and more open to genre than some critics are. There are lots of Ph.D. dissertations being written today on genre authors. (Someone: That’s because Melville is all used up by now.)

The session ended with a short discussion of poetry reviews or the lack of them. People said that except for a few places, the very literary work of poetry fared no better in getting newspaper and magazines to review them than do the genre books which were the subject of the panel. With that, Lev Grossman thanked the participants, there was applause, people got up, and Walter Mosley gave out some free copies (I snagged one that he kindly autographed) of his new book This Year You Write Your Novel.

Jesus Christ. Poor Vendela Vida didn’t get in her first answer until the 3:33 mark. Shut the hell up, Silverblatt.

I’ve just been informed that Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss has won the NBCC Fiction award.

BBC: “n unpublished novel by renowned author Jeanette Winterson has been found at an Underground station in south London….Martha Oster, 27, said she was ‘amazed’ when she found the 134-page manuscript lying on a bench at Balham station on Wednesday night.”

The Sun: “Masturbating an elephant in the cause of science isn’t an easy job – just ask wildlife expert Dr Thomas Hildebrandt. Just touching a jumbo penis – they measure more than 1.5metres when aroused – can have painful consequences as German scientist Dr Hildebrandt reveals. He said: ‘One guy I know got a black eye from being hit by an elephant’s penis.'”

The Los Angeles Times Festival of Books is going down the weekend of Coachella. I won’t be there. (And I won’t be at Coachella either.) But if you can make it, Tod Goldberg is moderating a panel about books and blogging featuring none other than Carolyn Kellogg, Ron Hogan, and a gentleman by the name of Andrew Keen, who has written a book called The Cult of the Amateur, which describes “how the democratization of the digital world is assaulting our economy, our culture, and our values.” And here I was thinking that the fault could be leveled at the Bush Administration. But no matter.

This promises some serious fireworks, particularly with one of the Goldbergs at the helm.

As it so happens, I have obtained a pre-pub copy of Mr. Keen’s book and I plan to devote a future post on this subject.

Exhibit A.

Washington Post: “Just weeks ago, Fernando Araújo’s only connection to the outside world was his shortwave radio. In six years as a hostage of Marxist rebels, his life had been reduced to a grim routine of forced marches, a diet of soggy beans and rice and the realization that freedom might never come. Now, after a confused and miraculous dash to freedom that has captivated Colombians, Araújo has become foreign minister, a critical post in a country highly dependent on foreign aid, especially from Washington.”

I’m not sure if the editors from Nerve approached Tao Lin, or if Tao Lin approached Nerve. But Tao Lin has written a sex story that may be one of the strangest things I’ve read this year. And I mean that in a good way.

If you want to know how not to interview someone, Kevin Maher offers a textbook example of journalistic ineptitude. Maher interviews Ghost Rider star Eva Mendes, declaring that she is a beautiful woman who transforms “the most insightful of male interviewers into puddles of fawning inarticulacy.” He then declares, with a journalistic swagger unseen since Norman Mailer, that “in my hands this Mendes woman will be putty!” Yeah, that’ll keep Mendes in her place! But Mendes surprises Maher by flirting with him and, instead of Maher flirting right back and not letting Mendes’ beauty get in the way of a good interview, he claims he doesn’t even remember her nude scene in Training Day and, when Mendes brings up her breasts, he doesn’t have the intelligence to tie this into the conversation. He even confesses that he “can’t think of a quick enough quip.”

The problems here are manifold: Maher’s inability to respect her Mendes as a person, Maher’s inability to be honest about her charisma (complete with the Eisenhower-inspired sexism of “the Mendes woman” becoming putty in his hands), and Maher’s inability to play right back, no matter what the subject. Spontaneity is often an ineluctable part of a great interview and, if a journalist doesn’t have the wit, confidence and playfulness to negotiate these tricky waters, he doesn’t belong on the beat.

If anything, Mendes sounds like a very interesting person with a playful streak. It’s too bad that this is an interview conducted by an idiot, signifying nothing.

icWales: “The team of scientists from Cardiff University stress there is no need for the public to panic about the giant hole even though they describe it as ‘a gaping open wound in the Earth’s skin.'”

What does your name mean?

E is for Energetic
D is for Dramatic
W is for Wonderful
A is for Altruistic
R is for Relaxed
D is for Dramatic

C is for Classy
H is for Handy
A is for Artistic
M is for Moral
P is for Placid
I is for Innocent
O is for Overwhelming
N is for Naive

An extremely helpful list of the wi-fi situation at various airports. (via Fimoculous)

From Publisher’s Lunch, there’s word of the Other Ed‘s activities:

Cofounder of the Believer Ed Park’s debut PERSONAL DAYS, a comic novel about a group of office workers who suspect there is a mole in their group, to Julia Cheiffetz at Random House, in a pre-empt, for publication in May 2008, by PJ Mark at McCormick & Williams Literary Agency (world).

It’s becoming exceedingly delightful and exceedingly strange to see one’s pals and fellow bloggers nabbing book deals.

I did this in three minutes.