Finally, one of our esteemed colleagues had the balls to point out the obvious. All this time, while we organized groups to discuss neglected authors, delved into the world of podcasting, and had the temerity to redesign this site so that it was easier on the eye, our purpose all along was to start reading junk like Dan Brown and J.K. Rowling. To hell with Chris Sorrentino, Lee Martin, Kirby Gann, or Elliot Perlman. Pay no attention to Soft Skull or Melville House. All along, it’s been our secret desire to lie to you about the hacks and the wastrels who continue to have their work published because it sells.
That’s because we’re apparently a “mainstream bookblogger.” We’re so mainstream that we successfully avoided the cut at Forbes — lest they announce our grand deception to embrace the capitalist system in all its totality. It’s why we flew to New York for BookExpo. We slept with at least fifteen publicists while we were there and had a tray of canapes served on a publicity manager’s back. We called her “Rover.” She barked every time we put a Ben Frankin in her mouth. Word on the street is that we’re now something of a “sugar daddy.”
We used our sizable LBC influence to ensure that a book as scabrous and mainstream as Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories won the last round. And rest assured, the book with the biggest publicity budget will win, come September. Substantial checks are being sent as we speak.
It was our maintream status, of course, that forced us to renounce the Tanenhaus Brownie Watch and that compelled us to avoiding any image-invisible content.
Selling out has, in fact, been the best possible thing we’ve ever done. And we encourage you to do the same. Because that’s the way things work in 21st Century America. The men with the fine suits always win.
So buckle up, kids. You can be sugar daddies (and sugar mommies) too!
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. (
Busted!
You never fooled. It was all a beard!
Embrace your love of the bestseller table at Waldens.
How much did you get?
Admitting the truth is the first step…on the path to flaunting your huge stacks of cash in the faces of your detractors! Yeah, boy!
Well, Sir. The first step taken, it’s time to accept who you are and move on.
The first step is that you’re powerless over selling out, and your blog has become unmanageable. Second is thatis that you came to believe that only a power greater than yourself (the mainstream publishing industry) can restore you to sanity. Third, you made a decision to turn your will and your life over to the publishing industry – as you understand it. Fourth, you made a searching and fearless inventory of your assets. Fifth you admitted to the industry, yourself, and to another human being (since the industry doesn’t count) the exact nature of your selling out (this post is a nice touch). Sixth, you were entirely ready to have the publishing industry satisfy all of your debts. Seventh, you humbly asked them to pay them off, in return for your soul. Next, you made a list of all non-mainstream authors you undeservingly gave publicity and those (like JK Rowling and Dan Brown) that you didn’t give proper exposure. Ninth, you made direct amends to such people and slept and brownnosed to them wherever possible. Tenth, you continued to do so, as is suggested, and when wrong promptly admitted it. Eleventh, sought through brown-nosing and sucking up to improve your conscious contact with the publishing industry as you understand it, begging for knowledge of its will and the power to carry it out. And finally you need to take the twelfth step, having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, you carry this message to other reviewers and help them to sell out whenever you can.
It’s only through this awareness that you’ll be propelled into the fourth dimension of the pink cloud of existence. To truly sell out, you will abandon everything to the publishing industry, and serve them until your ultimate end.
Have fun!
I’m going to go out on a limb and say that “mainstream bookblogger” is an oxymoron.