The Australian: “Inquirer submitted, under a pseudonym, chapter three of [1973 Nobel Winner Patrick] White’s The Eye of the Storm to 12 publishers and agents. This novel clinched his Nobel Prize in Literature in 1973, with the judges describing it as one of his most accomplished works. Not one reader recognised its literary genius, and 10 wrote polite and vaguely encouraging rejection letters. The highest praise was ‘clever’. A low point was a referral to a ‘how to’ book on writing fiction.”
The “It’s Not What You Know, But Who You Know” Rule Applies to Nobel Winners Too
– July 14, 2006Posted in: Uncategorized
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
*sigh* These “we took great manuscripts and sent them around and fooled EVERYBODY” stories are such bullshit. Which is why my favorite part of the story is:
“Hudson has since told Inquirer he recalled reading the manuscript and was being kind in his letter. ‘I was trying to be polite. I thought is was pretentious fart-arsery. I don’t like White.’
“‘Obviously, one has to ask, how the hell did this guy get to be a great literary figure? Right from the start, people were saying: “Is this really as good as people are saying?” ‘ “