Category Archives: favorites

April 25, 2012   Miriam   classics, favorites, fun, great books, Miriam  
11

The second time around

The stack of new books perched precariously on a child’s stool by the door in my bedroom is taller than my six-year-old and gaining on my 5’4” height fast.  My e-reader is full to bursting with books, manuscripts, my renewed subscriptions to The New Yorker  and Vanity Fair (which will be less entertaining and provocative now that Christopher Hitchens is gone), episodes of Mad Men I never seem to be able to watch when they run on TV and the awesomely addictive Words With Friends app.  So, perversely, I’m thinking about books I’ve loved or that have been game changers for me that I want to re-read.

I think I’d start with The Good Soldier, Ford Maddox Ford’s perennially underrated masterpiece, move on to some lighter reading with the deliciously unsettling Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier, and, if I’m still in re-tread mode after that, dive into the prodigiously brilliant One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  Thing is, if I go down this road, Jeffrey Eugenides will have finished another novel before I go back to my tottering pile.

What is it that makes us have to go back and re-read, sometimes obsessively so, our favorite book(s)?  What magic or comfort or insight do we find there the second of fifteenth time around?  Most book lovers I know have at least one title they revisit time and again and clearly it’s a widespread phenomenon.

So, what books do you find you go back to over and over again?  Maybe your choices will inspire my own.

April 11, 2012   John   favorites, fun, John, opinion, poetry, trivia  
4

The murderous beats

This past Sunday afternoon, several parents from my son’s preschool organized an Easter Egg Hunt for the kids in Riverside Park near Columbia University. With the park in full bloom and the children remarkably well behaved for so late in the day, we must have presented just about as wholesome and innocent a portrait as you can get here in the Big City.

Yet who would have guessed our kiddies were scrounging for eggs on the site of a legendary literary murder?

Not me, until I read this piece in the Times about the Beat writers and how Lucian Carr, mentor to Ginsberg and Kerouac at Columbia, murdered the childhood stalker who had followed Carr to New York from St. Louis. Afterwards, Carr dumped the body in the Hudson—and must have dragged it right through the spot where we were picnicking 68 years later!

Well, morbid connections aside, I love this story for a few reasons. One, I’ve been a big fan of the Beats since high school when my lit-mag friends and I would traipse down to Café Reggio on MacDougal Street and pretend we were hipsters over cappucinos—though, full disclosure, I didn’t actually read any of their work until post-college. But when I did, I was hooked, and even now I’ve probably re-read HOWL and ON THE ROAD more than any other books on my shelf.

Two, it’s always fun to hear a new story about literary heroes, especially a nicely lurid one like this. But I especially love how it places the rowdy, anti-establishment Beats firmly in the Columbia literary culture—somehow, it makes them more relatable without deflating their impact, sort of like Thoreau heading home from Walden for dinner.

And three, it reaffirms my book-love for NYC. I mean, you could walk down virtually any street in any borough and there’s some kind of literary connection—a scene from a favorite book, the residence of a famous writer, the site (or former site) of a bookstore or writers’ bar or some other hangout. And in a few instances, like Riverside Park, something much more sinister…

April 06, 2012   Lauren   favorites, fun, Lauren, opinion, reading  
8

Ah, the folly of youth

I’m the first to admit I have some obsessions that are potentially embarrassing.  I would never play my music on shuffle for a roomful of people, and at least half my DVD collection is thoroughly ridiculous.  My tastes are ¼ snob, ¼ misguided snob, and ½ philistine.  And that’s the way I Iike it.

But books?  I don’t know.  I mean, yes, I was into Anne Rice’s vampire oeuvre to a perhaps extreme degree.  And it’s possible that I’ve tried to convince many inconvincible people that The Outsiders is not just a fond childhood memory, but also a work of real art.  But am I embarrassed by either?  I don’t look back and laugh at young Lauren’s appreciation of those things.  I’d happily re-read The Outsiders this weekend and report to you how my heart breaks for the greasers.  (Especially the thoroughly underappreciated Sodapop.)

I just don’t have the “oh, man, I loved that, didn’t I?” mortification when any book bubbles to the surface in my mind.  So when Rachel shared this post from The Awl in which writers reflect on their cringe-inducing early book loves, I couldn’t really come up with my own.  Even though I loved, loved, loved some of the books mentioned (Rice, VC Andrews, Camus, Sweet Valley High), I’m not embarrassed at all to have felt that way.  And ever since I read The Fault in Our Stars a few months ago, I’ve wanted to go out and buy a truckload of its tackier, formulaic cousins, the Lurlene McDaniels books.  When it comes down to it, that stuff all seems like harmless fun or an attempt to aspire to some lofty intellectual heights, and I just don’t see what’s to be embarrassed about in either.  I hope I never reach the day when I’m troubled by my own love of trashy fun or pretension, because I’m going to have so much shame to live down that I’ll probably just have to move into a therapist’s office.

Whether or not you have cringetastic books in your past, it’s worth checking out the link, even if just for Justin Halpern’s response.  Who among us can say they’re not kind of curious to read that one now?

For the record, I’m pretending The Perks of Being a Wallflower didn’t appear on that list.

P.S.  Stay gold.

December 14, 2011   Stacey   favorites, fun, Stacey, words  
15

What’s your favorite line?

I’m reading a new middle grade novel from a client, and I came across a line I just love. In it, he is describing a pack of dogs on the attack: “They were a boiling wave of flailing paws and arching backs.” It’s so juicy and descriptive and intriguing. In just a few short words, it says so much about what’s to come.

Great writers amaze me with their capabilities at taking simple words or phrases and turning them into sentences that blend together seamlessly to form the books we love. But, even within a favorite novel there are always a few lines that jump out, that demand to be read again, and that are remembered when you think back to that book in the future.  Miriam talked about favorite last lines on the blog this summer, and it was a fun exercise. When I was young, I remember underlining lines I liked in books as I was reading (in pencil, of course!).

I’d love to hear what your favorite lines are. The ones you go back to or quote or think about fondly when remembering where you were and what you were doing when you were reading that great book. Sometimes it’s harder to remember lines from books than it is song lyrics or movie quotes (some days, I can barely remember my kids’ names), but see what you can come up with, and please share!

November 22, 2011   John   favorites, great books, holidays, John, opinion, reading  
2

What a year!

Well, I’d hoped to stave off the holiday season for just a few more days—at least until Santa lumbers down Broadway on Thursday morning at the end of the Macy’s Parade. But the Times just released their 100 Notable Books for 2011, so I guess there’s no escaping now…

Of all the year-end best-of lists, I find the Times list the most instructive. Perhaps it comes with being the Paper of Record, but typically they go for the popular, consensus picks of the best in a given year, and so it provides a good picture of what worked, both artistically and commercially. For me as an agent, it’s especially useful to look at the nonfiction list and review the categories that got them excited—lotsa history, lotsa memoir this time out. And, of course, it’s always fun to grouse about the omissions—ahem, cough, Steve Jobs, ahem?

But this year more than any other, the list make me realize just how loooong this year felt. Didn’t Swamplandia! come out a zillion years ago? The Tiger’s Wife? I could swear I was talking about Malcom X with the editor back in 2010…

For sure, having a newborn at home has certainly dragged out the days (and nights). On the other hand, coming to the end of my first full calendar year as an agent, I’ve handled a lot more projects than I did as an editor, and with a much faster rate of turnover, too—so in that respect, news quickly becomes old news, and old news seems that much older.

Hence, for once, I’m actually grateful to the Times for reminding me of books that are way off my radar at this point—and that I won’t be hopelessly out of date if I tackle some of them over the holidays!

Any thoughts on the list? Other glaring omissions? Anyone else feel like 2011 went on forever?

October 26, 2011   Miriam   authors, favorites, fun, Miriam  
4

Unconditional

I don’t know about you guys but I have a handful of authors that I love unconditionally.  Yes, that’s right.  I love them beyond, despite, because.  Rationally and irrationally.  I’d buy one their books even if it was a technical guide to taxidermy.  Needless to say, this kind of unconditional love is exceedingly rare and requires much more than mere skill, talent or even genius in order to blossom and thrive.   Really, authors have to earn that I’ll-forgive-anything feeling about their work and not just because of how brilliant one or two or even a dozen of their books are.  For me, it’s a combination of their writing and the subjects that obsess them, their public persona, their ability to surprise, rabble rouse, or consistently awe (this last is the hardest).

There is, of course, no subjective measure for who is worthy of unconditional love.   For instance, I’ve read enough Joyce Carol Oates to have developed great respect and admiration for her.  But love, much less unconditional love?  Uh uhn.  On the other hand, Toni Morrison could fill a notebook with crayoned squiggles and I’d add it to my collection.  Don DeLillo?  Admiration, respect, deep like.  Jonathan Franzen?  Unconditional love.  (I know, I know.  Don’t judge.)

This is, of course, a longwinded way of telling you guys about my unconditional love of Jeffrey Eugenides, newly bolstered by this ridiculously charming essay in The Millions.  I haven’t read The Marriage Plot yet, but I will because this is an author whose failures I’d probably find more interesting and moving than other authors’ successes.   Does that make sense?

In fact, is there a place for unconditional love in literature?  Should we allow ourselves to blindly champion an author no matter how flawed, offensive, or just plain lame his/her work becomes?   Or should we be driven by our critical faculties and let the work in front of us be the sole basis for affection or dismissal?  Do you guys ever love writers unconditionally?

October 26, 2011   Stephanie   authors, children's books, classics, favorites, fun, Stephanie  
2

Everything old is new again

I’ve always been a firm believer in the notion that the past is something to hold on to, interpret, and learn from. Which is why I really loved reading this piece from NPR written by Norton Juster, author of the 1961 classic, The Phantom Tollbooth.  Fifty years after its debut release, Juster looks back at the road that led him to create what was and continues to be one of the leading classics for young readers. I myself can remember reading it as a child.

What really resonated with me in this piece was Juster’s own experiences with reluctant publishers, who felt that Phantom’s vocabulary and themes were too lofty and would be lost on young readers. His response?

There is no such thing as a difficult word. There are only words you don’t know yet…Children are still the same as they’ve always been. They still get bored and confused, and still struggle to figure out the important questions of life.

In thinking this through, there’s no doubt that Juster’s words withstand the passage of time. With the publishing world changing as much as it has been lately, it’s always comforting to see that there are still ideals that hold true today.

September 08, 2011   Jessica   favorites, format, guilty pleasures, Jessica  
5

Fun with Fonts

I have a bit of a fixation with fonts. I like the notes in the back of books that describe the provenance of the typeface. When I was a kid, my family subscribed to the now defunct but nerdily wonderful u&lc magazine (upper and lower case) and I have whiled away unconscionable hours with the font pull down menus on assorted word processing programs. So it is perhaps not a surprise that I greeted the publication of Simon Garfield’s Just My Type with real pleasure http://www.npr.org/2011/09/04/140126278/know-this-headlines-font-youre-just-my-type.

Garfield writes “Twenty years ago we hardly knew them, but now we all have favorites. Computers have rendered us all gods of type, a privilege we could never have anticipated in the age of the typewriter.”

Here’s a video of the author “judging some books by their covers” http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/video/2010/oct/17/typography.

Do you have a favorite font? My default is Times New Roman, but I regularly use Arial for e-mails, and I have a weakness for Sylfaen even though I think it’s a bit fey. I hate reading in Courier, such that if I am able, I will change the typeface before I read a manuscript in what I find an arid, joyless type style. (Unlike those who fetishize the Smith Corona, apparentlyI have painful memories of using an actual typewriter.)

Anyway, I probably lean more serif than sans in the most general sense, and I am prone to reading into the font choices of those who e-mail me (Aqua Palatino. Hmmm…)

How about you?

July 13, 2011   Miriam   endings, favorites, great books, Miriam  
26

Last words

Everyone knows that a great opening line can “make” a novel.  You might be so beguiled by a beautiful first sentence that you decide to follow the author on whatever path s/he chooses to lead you (even if where it leads you is misery, confusion and despair).  We’ve made a lot of fuss on this blog (as publishing people do) about opening lines…but what about final ones?  How a book ends and the image, emotion, or idea it leaves you with is, to me, in some ways more important than how it ensnares you to begin with.

I remember many years ago being rewarded for my persistence and dedication in reading Faulkner’s maddeningly brilliant The Sound and the Fury by the very last line (of what it turned out was an appendix added to the book years later; I didn’t know this at the time so for me it was the last line): “They endured.”  That phrase has stayed with me for decades now. (Yowsa! Feeling old here.)  Its simplicity is its power and it left me in awe of someone who could have crafted such a fierce and uncompromising book and ended it so exactly right (the actual first last line is pretty great too; check it out).

I have a hard time remembering what I had for breakfast (and it’s the same thing every day), but some of my all time favorites:

“After all, tomorrow is another day.” – Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

“Isn’t it pretty to think so.” – Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

“She called in her soul to come and see.” – Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

“Vladimir: Well, shall we go? Estragon: Yes, let’s go.  [They do not move.]” – Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

And, of course, I surveyed the DGLMers.  Some of them ignored my e-mail (as they do) and some came back with:

Stephanie, Jim, and Lauren: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

And Lauren: “He loved Big Brother.” – George Orwell, 1984

And Jim: “When they tried to detach the skeleton which he held in his embrace, he fell to dust.” – Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Rachel: “yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.” – James Joyce, Ulysses

Jessica: “She runs.” – Nadine Gordimer, July’s People

What are your favorite last words and why?

June 22, 2011   Miriam   Amazon, audience, author events, authors, Barnes and Noble, comics, culture, favorites, guilty pleasures, independent bookstores, Miriam, retailers  
14

The price of admission

There was a little used book store around the corner from my apartment complex, when I was growing up in Miami, that was my second home.  Nerdy, latch-key kid that I was, I spent hours browsing the shelves, trying to get the owner to throw in an extra dog-eared paperback in exchange for the stack of Spanish language comic books I was trading, and generally getting high on the smell of old paper and ink.  I still have treasured editions scattered throughout my many bookcases whose provenance was that little shop.

Then, when I first got to New York, I was blown away by places like Shakespeare & Co., Brentano’s, Coliseum Books, Papyrus and that promised land for bibliophiles, The Strand.   A few years later many of my favorite haunts had gone out of business or been taken over by soulless corporate giants (you know who you are) but I never lost my love of browsing aimlessly in book stores.  These days, I still occasionally wander over to the Barnes & Noble on Union Square and spend my lunch hour in the fiction stacks on the fourth floor.

Of course, book stores have also traditionally been a place for authors to do their dog and pony show in support of their work.   Book tours are going the way of the Amazon forests but certain authors are still a huge draw (just try to get anywhere near the third floor at the aforementioned Barnes & Noble when David Sedaris is doing a reading).  Some of these events can make you fall in love with a book or its author, sometimes both.   They’re also the makings of a cheap date for grown-ups and an alternative to a $30 movie outing for young kids.  Except, it seems, no more.

Check out this  Gawker piece about the new trend of book stores charging admission to author events.  I actually understand and support independents in their efforts to get people in the door.  These are trying times for book sellers and if they are to keep their doors open in the face of the online juggernauts (you know who you are, cough, Amazon) they are going to have to figure out a way to make money.  But it does make me sad.   How many times did I walk out of a book store with a title I had no intention of buying when I went in after stumbling upon an author reading from his/her book?  I wonder if the days of the accidental book buyer are numbered as a result of these new pay-for-play tactics.

What do you all think about this new development?

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