Category Archives: reading

May 17, 2011   Stephanie   fun, genre, opinion, reading, writing  
9

Genre talk

If there is one thing this blog has taught me, it is that our readers take on a wide range of genres in their writing.  Just in the comments section alone I’ve seen readers talk about the thriller, historical romance, or young adult novel they’ve been working on.

So that led me to wonder what genres in particular our readers enjoy reading, as opposed to writing. Of course, the person writing an urban fantasy novel must undoubtedly be reading as much urban fantasy as they can get their hands on in order to fully study the genre.  But it’s admittedly interesting and also surprising to hear the outside interests of our readers.  I know there’s a horror writer somewhere out there who loves those romance novels!

So my question to you today is: firstly, in what genre do you write? And secondly, when you do read outside of your genre, what are your favorites?



May 16, 2011   Jane   book club, e-books, fun, future of publishing, Jane, reading, self-publishing  
4

This month’s selections at the DGLM book club

As many of you know, we have a book club here at Dystel and Goderich Literary Management.  Every month or so, we pick a category (of fiction usually) and each of us selects a different title in that category to read.  On the designated day, we meet after work and each of us presents our evaluation of the book:  first, we pitch it as if it were something we were representing, then we describe what we really thought  and, finally, we talk about how the book sold, its reviews, awards it was nominated for or won, and anything else we can find out by bugging the editor who worked on it.  In this way, over the years, we have all learned a lot about these categories and what is currently going on in our business.

This month we are doing something different—each of us is reading one of the top 100 bestselling e-novels from the kindle store.  We are curious about whether these books differ from those sold to traditional publishers and, if so, how.

More and more these days, books are being sold electronically.  There are now e-book bestseller lists in The New York Times and some of these titles are exclusive e-books—not published traditionally in any format.  We are trying to learn more about this phenomenon for our existing clients and maybe identify future clients as well.  It is a whole new era in the world of publishing, and we are going to be very much a part of it.

Are any of you published exclusively online and, if so, what has your experience been?

May 13, 2011   Lauren   fun, holidays, Lauren, reading  
8

Spooky times

So, I don’t want to alarm anyone, but did you guys realize what today is?  It’s Friday the 13th.  And in case you haven’t heard, the world is also ending next weekend.  I had assumed the Mayan calendar/2012 stuff was nonsense, but I didn’t realize it was because we’re actually not making it out of 2011.

Still, you’ve got a week left for reading, and you might as well get yourself in the spirit of things with something really creepy and unsettling.  For me, I can go for a good horror schlockfest now and again, but don’t tend to find them genuinely frightening.  More campy, nauseating fun.  I usually find psychological horror and real life situations most intensely disturbing, but they tend to keep me up at night contemplating rather than willing sleep to come while refusing to close my eyes.

I wasn’t always that way, though.  The scariest book moments I can recall are all from my childhood.  I grew up in a somewhat creaky 100-year-old house, so hauntings were a particular source of terror.

I once made the mistake of starting to read Robert Bloch’s Psycho, on which the film was based, while idly flipping through bookshelves when I was reasonably young.  I didn’t make it very far, if I remember correctly, because I was too creeped out—I think mostly by the idea of reading something I knew was scary—and not kid’s stuff scary.  Real adult scary.  I had dreams for a while after that that related somehow to Psycho, even though I’m reasonably certain that I still had no idea what happened in the story.  The dreams made no sense, as dreams are wont to do, but I distinctly remember that Psycho was the name of the bad guy I was afraid of and at one point he morphed into a sneaker.  Sounds funny and non-threatening now, but does it help to know he was a man-sized sneaker?  A man-sized sneaker who was chasing me around a really old house?  No, probably not.  At any rate, I still have never seen the film (I know!) or read the book, because I’m a tad traumatized.  I suspect sneakers are not a part of it.

Actually, as a child, I was both a total chicken and completely unwilling to accept that.  I used to read and re-read and re-read this big non-fiction picture book of notorious crimes, even though it gave me nightmares.  If I caught a glimpse of it on the shelf in the living room, I sort of had to look at it, because I was worried there was something I might not know I should be worried about yet.  (Knowing is half the battle?)  This meant, of course, that I grew up afraid not of being murdered, but of specific dead murderers.  I recall my mother explaining that I had no reason to be afraid of Jack the Ripper, even though they hadn’t caught him, because he’d have died in the meantime.  I don’t think it helped—what if he’d lived to be really, really, really old?  People can live to be 100, you know.  And some people are still very spry at that age.  I’m pretty sure I thought that fleeing to America and hiding out in the suburbs would have been a very good way to avoid getting caught.  I think I was still too young for my mother to also explain that I would have been fine anyway, seeing as I wasn’t a hooker.  I was also afraid of Lizzie Borden, Burke & Hare, and just the general possibility that I might own something that was secretly made out of human skin.  Sometimes I’d read the part about the Great Train Robbery last, as a sort of freak-out palate cleanser, because it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the prospect that famous historical murderers were actually secretly still alive and coming to get me.

But the book that hands down wins the prize for terrifying me so much that I couldn’t cope with sleeping with the lights out and contemplated moving all my dolls so I couldn’t see them from my bed was a short story collection called Thirteen.  It featured the big name kiddie horror novelists (Christopher Pike, RL Stine, Caroline B. Cooney) and a bunch of others, and some of the stories still would probably creep me out if I read them today.  I read a lot of the works by the major authors in the collection, generally.  I was a devoted Christopher Pike fan for years, though I remember being sort of unimpressed with the story in this collection.  “Lucinda” by Lael Littke and “The Doll” by Carol Ellis were the two that really clinched the sleepless nights for me.

So what are your top scary moments in books?  And do the most terrifying still make a lasting impression on you if you read them today, or is that “cannot possibly sleep” feeling a remnant of your childhood?

May 13, 2011   Rachel   libraries, Rachel S., reading, technology  
5

Surely my overdue fines are astronomical.

When I take the time to properly organize my wallet, there is a pocket reserved solely for library cards. I have six. Granted, two thirds of them are for libraries that I would have to travel hours to reach—two of them across an ocean—but the fact remains: I love libraries. Or, I say that. I say I love libraries, and it’s a truth that I realize every time I visit one, but I can’t tell you the last time I was actually in a library.

It used to be that the local library was, for me, a necessary, once a week minimum requirement. It was always better to go on Monday or Wednesday, because then they were open until 8:00, but if you went any other weekday, they kicked you out at 6:00. I would spend my library hours scrutinizing the shelves for new arrivals, old favorites or elusive titles I hadn’t yet picked off the shelves.  Sometimes, secretly, I read picture books, because sometimes there were funny ones, but I wouldn’t dare be caught dead checking them out to take home. Back before computers were common, let alone necessary home appliances, and after our library finally got one, I spent a good half hour or so looking up things on the internet, too. I tore through the stack of books I had brought home, because I hated renewing anything—I had (okay, still kind of have) a stigma against taking too long to read anything, not that anyone but myself would ever really care.

Libraries were a huge part of my life. Though we were only ever there for two weeks at a stretch once a year, I just had to apply for a library card here (Though, II think the 2 euro renewal is long overdue…). Despite all of this, I currently live a mere three blocks (on the short ends!) from the local branch of the Brooklyn Public Library and yet I have only been inside three times in the two years that I’ve lived there. All three times were great and I checked out my usual stack of books to read, yet it would still never be a place I would think to go on a quiet afternoon. Why is that? It’s not that I have anything against libraries, and I would fight to keep them around. I briefly considered going back to school for library science and lament the lack of updates on one of my favorite columns on the McSweeney’s website.

While I’m aware that city budget cuts are affecting libraries all over, I can’t imagine that they would ever be done away with entirely. Children, surely, still visit—if only for the free computer time, but there are so many things for which libraries once were the sole providers that it worries me. No longer is it necessary to visit a library for research (and insert my pause as I remember poring over encyclopedia after encyclopedia in the tiny research room, trying to write a report on hermit crabs), back issues of periodicals can be found on the internet and used books go for a penny on Amazon. I hate to think that I am a perpetuator in the slow demise of library popularity, but it really makes me wonder. If someone like me, a girl who begged to be dropped off at the library in lieu of attending yet another baseball game can let my memberships lapse, then what does that say about their fate?

What about you? Am I just a bad example? Am I worried for nothing or have you, too, slowly turned away from a treasured public institution?

May 06, 2011   Rachel   fiction, fun, Rachel S., reading, trivia  
5

Did you know?

I love trivia. Like really, really love trivia. The single worst thing about not owning a television is that I can no longer watch Jeopardy! every night at 7:00. Any other show I’d care to watch, I can find online, but there’s no magic in watching a rerun of Jeopardy! The best kind of anecdotal knowledge is the kind you pick up by accident. Of course, knowing facts and information because you’ve studied it or gone out of your way to research is valuable and fulfilling stuff, but it’s the answer you blurt out that you didn’t even realize you knew that means the most. The “I have no idea how I even knew that” qualification after correctly answering an obscure question really gives weight to your knowledge.

While you must, of course, be careful trusting history or information given in a novel as fact, as a  novel is, by definition, fiction, I’ve learned many useful (and many more useless) things simply by enjoying a book. Whether it be rudimentary philosophy, practices unique to various cultures or eras, definitions or obscure words or scientific classifications, every writer of every book has a knowledge and understanding unique to themselves—as do, of course, the readers! In so writing purely what one knows (as goes the age-old advice), there must be some assumption that every bit of background or situational intelligence is common knowledge. Otherwise, books would have to be at least twice as long purely on account of necessary explanation of every little thing.

Sometimes it’s just that a book was written in a past decade or century, and society as portrayed in, say, Pride and Prejudice may not have been a groundbreaking description when Austen first published, but is insightful to modern readers. Even just a sense of a different human experience can spark an interest that was previously dormant and leads to further reading and research. Luckily, my passion for trivia is trumped only by my passion for books, so the two feed well off of each other. What sort of things have you been lead to learn more about because of a novel? Are there any novels in particular that you feel have taught you something—whether or importance or simple fun fact?

April 20, 2011   Stacey   feedback, fun, reading, Stacey  
5

How do you decide what you want to read?

I saw this week that Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad won the Pulitzer for fiction. Miriam read it here for a recent book club and liked it a lot. It’s on my reading list, and has been for some time. I’m a fan of Egan’s, and she and I passed through the halls at The Tribeca Film Center many years ago when I was an intern there, even before she became a published writer. Then this morning I saw this article about what sounds like a fascinating new popular science book that explores an eight decade study of longevity. I’ve added it to my list as well.

It got me to thinking about what influences a person’s buying decisions when it comes to books and where they are learning about the books they want to read. Personally, I pull my reading list together based on many sources, including reviews, articles, bestseller lists, and word of mouth. But since I work in the publishing industry, it’s a different sort of research. I just ordered, for example, copies of Patti Smith’s memoir, Just Kids, which won the National Book Award last year, as well as Rebecca Skloot’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which was universally praised as one of the best books of 2010. For me, it’s not just about reading a good book, although that’s certainly a fringe benefit. It’s about researching the market and learning precisely what makes a book great. There are lessons to be learned from these examples that I can apply to projects I’m developing, and those I’m considering as well.

So, I’m curious to know more from our readers about their buying habits. A few questions:

Does anyone out there wait all year to see what the Pulitzer for fiction is and then buy it if you haven’t already read it? Or do you not care at all about the prestigious prize? Are there any other literary prizes that matter to you?

Do reviews sway you in a direction, and if so, from which publications? Do you swear by one reviewer over another whose taste you feel is in sync with your own? Do you wait each year for the annual best-of lists from the New York Times and others, and pick a handful from there?

Does the occasional ad on tv remind you to go out and buy the latest commercial blockbuster (I always find books ads so painfully awkward and not at all convincing)?

Or do you simply walk into a local bookstore and peruse the shelves? If that’s your preference, do you look at the new and noteworthy tables, the bestsellers, or the general fiction or nonfiction shelves by genre or category? Do you spend 10 minutes looking or 2 hours (and do you sometimes start a book in the store and put it back if it’s not working for you?)?

So many questions to think about what brings us to the books we read. Thanks in advance for the feedback. And whatever way you come to your choices, keep on buying books!

April 15, 2011   Rachel   fun, opinion, Rachel S., reading  
7

You wouldn’t understand.

This morning I finished the New York Times crossword puzzle in less time than it took me to drink my cup of coffee (okay, so the coffee was on the cooler end of lukewarm by the end, but let’s say that’s irrelevant). On a Friday. In case anyone is unaware, the NYT crosswords increase in difficulty as the day goes on, which makes Monday the easiest and Saturday (in my opinion) the toughest. I was pretty sure that my brain had grown in size and that my synapses were finding connections they never knew possible and that my IQ could now be charted at genius, at least.

Because I knew it was too good to be true, I went on over and read what Rex Parker had to say, and he darn blew all the wind out of my sails. Rex Parker, for those of you who are not as crossword-obsessive as I am, evaluates the daily NYT crossword on enjoyability, creativity and difficulty. Despite this apparent subjectivity, I take his ratings as truth and subsequently berate or congratulate myself based on how difficult he deemed the puzzle to be. Today’s rating? Easy-medium. Of course.

While I don’t feel quite as ready to send in my application to MENSA as I did earlier today, it’s true also that one cannot completely take assessments such as these for absolute truth. There’s no way to judge how difficult something might be for every person, as everyone has singular personal strengths and weaknesses. Yet we’ve been told, ever since grade school, what types of things, books in particular, we will or will not be able to understand, follow and learn from.

How many times have you passed on a book simply because someone whose opinion you respect has said that it’s really dense, too complicated, or hard to follow? Or felt inadequate because a book that struck you as intricate and contemplative, but then had a mentor dismiss it as easy or boring? I know I’ve thought about reading Infinite Jest a number of times, because it sounds interesting and it’s a challenge I’d like to take on, but been dissuaded by general opinion. Of course, the same was true of Ulysses, but I’ve now read it twice, and I say this without pretense, it’s one of my favorite books.

There’s a reason general opinions stand as they do, but surely something as intimate and subjective as literary or intellectual pursuit should suffer because of them. I’m not entirely sure how to weight these values, because they do reflect personally.

Still, the day I finish a Saturday “Challenging” puzzle in one sitting will probably be one of the greatest days of my life.

April 11, 2011   Jane   Jane, reading, suggestions  
8

The importance of reading…even for us!

Recently, I was looking to see what my son’s schedule was going to be at the end of his college semester (he is in the second term of his freshman year at the University of Michigan) and I saw that he had a reading week before his final exams. “A reading week,” I thought, “what a wonderful idea.”

As agents, we are so busy reading proposals and manuscripts from clients and prospective clients, as well as trade articles for our information and education that we simply lose perspective on what else is going on out there in the world. But, during our work weeks—and I tend to work until 10:30 every night at least—there is simply no time for anything else.

And so, I have decided to take a reading week this week in order to read for pure pleasure. Ironically, the first thing I am reading is a manuscript from a client’s soon to be published book, and I am just loving every minute of it. Next, I plan to finish this month’s DGLM book club book, THE FINKLER QUESTION, then it’s on to Vanity Fair and, after that, I am just not sure.

I wonder if any of you have recommendations for other fiction I might read during my reading week. And, what would you choose to read if you were to do what I am doing?

April 08, 2011   Rachel   description, Rachel S., reading  
8

So good it makes me sick.

I’ll admit right up front that I am a very squeamish person. Blood and guts and gore will never appeal to me, in any kind of format—I’ve fainted in doctor’s offices and classrooms when presented with surgical inevitabilities and graphic videos. It’s entirely embarrassing, but try as I might to suck it up or focus on something else entirely, it doesn’t always work, and then there I am on the floor, disoriented, with someone’s face stuck right up in mine frantically wondering whether I’ve died or whatever other sorts of things people just fall over for.

I would have been better suited to the Victorian age, smelling salts in hand at all times.

I’ve grown used to these possibilities and thus steer clear of the more literal scenes in medical television shows and documentaries, and will timidly ask a person to stop talking about a particularly gruesome operation or accident. However, this morning, for the first time, I had to close the book I was reading and take a few deep breaths before opening it up again. There had been no warning, and I suppose the diseases and hospital procedures that were being described weren’t especially horrible, but they were written so darn well that the reality was right there, in clear picture in my mind. The usual wave of nausea followed by blurred vision and a strange floating feeling in my brain came over me. I tried to ignore it, frustrated with myself, because I was really enjoying the story, but I was also getting dangerously close to falling off my chair and probably knocking coffee all over the place in the middle of a fairly bustling café early in the morning, so I did the responsible thing and stopped reading for a moment. Afterward, better able to handle the words with this bit of preparation, I proceeded cautiously, feeling only a little bit sick until all talk of it had passed.

Usually, good writing takes a physical toll only in the form of tears or laughter, and while I’m wholly impressed at this new level of visceral narrative, perhaps a personal disclaimer on the front cover of: “RACHEL. PLEASE DO NOT READ OR PERHAPS ONLY SKIM PAGES 28-34 AND ALSO PAGES 49-52. THIS IS FOR YOUR HEALTH. THANK YOU.” would have been helpful.

In any case, this got me thinking about how much a novel, or I suppose, any written account, can affect us on such a human level. Music, film, theater and art of course have all been noted to do the same in many cases, but I feel that literature has often been neglected in its profound effect on the physical being. Perhaps because it’s almost fully a private enjoyment? I don’t know the answer to that one, and I don’t really expect anyone to be able to explain it, but I do ask if you have had a similar experience with a piece of writing. A physical manifestation of a usually solely mental or emotional reaction to a book—has this ever happened to you?

April 06, 2011   Miriam   fun, guilty pleasures, Miriam, reading  
4

…in bed.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I have some seriously slothful tendencies. If I thought I’d get anything done, I’d install a hammock in my office. My point is I like lounging around. A stack of books on my night table, a lap desk and a laptop nearby, and some Mad Men episodes on the DVR and I could stay in bed for days. There’s something about the relaxed state you find yourself in when propped up against a bunch of pillows that allows for a certain type of creativity—assuming, of course, that you can stay awake.

This fun piece by Meg Wolitzer reminded me that the bed can be as creative a hub as the dining table or the library. It also got me thinking about literary goings-on in beds (usually sex and death, but not always). What are your favorite bedroom scenes in literature?

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