For anyone who wants to see how the action went down, go to Twitter and check out #eandpdglm.

Here’s a confession: I’ve never taken part in a normal bookclub. We have one in the office where we all read different books and pitch them to each other, but that’s obviously different. With this one, though, I got to see what it was like to join with other people to chat about the same reading experience. Obviously I talk about books every day, but there was something so refreshing about doing it in a setting where nothing was at stake.

But as a newbie to the world of the traditional bookclub, I was a bit disappointed that no fights broke out and no names were called. I have to ask those of you who do this more regularly: are these events more fun when there’s someone to argue with? Or what about when a book is complicated and you really need to hash out some points?

And on a more selfish level, I’m curious—we know how many people were actively involved in our Twitter chats, but we don’t know how many people followed along later or what people thought about the format. So here’s a question: should we do it again? If so, should be keep it on Twitter? Do a different genre? Pick something more controversial? Add in a pie tossing at whoever makes the least popular comment?

Let us know! Inquiring minds, and all that…

The other day a client of mine got a not-yet-revealable blurb that made think, “Huh.  I think I’d actually buy a book with that blurb on it.”  Which underscores just how little they impact my choices.  I think I once bought a book because an intern recommended it to me and it had a blurb by an author I love, but blurbs alone don’t do it for me.  I still think they’re incredibly valuable for a million other reasons (the blurber might mention the book later, it helps to grab the attention of people along the chain between editorial and the customer, lends credibility, etc.).  But I don’t typically buy because of them.

I do buy books because of Twitter.  Usually it’s a critical mass question.  If everyone in publishing is reading something, I buy it (and eventually read it, though I’ll admit not always speedily).  Gone Girl; The Fault in Our Stars; Code Name Verity; and Where’d You Go, Bernadette? all made it to my house on the strength of the wisdom of the masses/fear of being left out.  Occasionally, one tweet reveals a book so perfect for me that I’ll rush out to get it, like My Beloved Brontosaurus, which I came across in a tweet from its editor Amanda Moon (@amsciam).  By title alone I knew it was for me.  My favorite dinosaur is still the Brontosaurus, and Pluto’s my favorite planet, and no lousy scientists with their knowledge are going to change that.  I not only bought it, I pre-ordered it (which I never do out of a combination of cheapness and impatience), and ordered one for a dino-obsessed friend’s upcoming birthday.

As someone who used to license first serial (periodical excerpt) rights for the agency, I always wondered how well magazine coverage translated to sales.  The trouble is the newspaper or magazine wants something that works in its own right.  But recently I read what was either an excerpt or an article referencing The Age of Edison, and I was really intrigued.  When I spotted the book at B&N the next day, I grabbed it.  Conveniently, it turned out to be my book club book for DGLM’s next book club meeting.

I do sometimes read the books that hit all the best of lists at year end, but I will admit that it’s an imperfect source for me.  It brings books to my attention, but I judge them with a critical eye before deciding whether to buy.  I’ll be reading Just Kids this weekend, which I kind of sort of thought about buying when everyone was talking it up, but never did till it became the selection for my book club.  Likewise, Beautiful Ruins abounded on the lists in December, but I didn’t read that till my book club decided I had to.

Incidentally, I adore the cover of Beautiful Ruins.  It called to me from everywhere.  But I resisted buying it because it didn’t sound like a book I’d like so much as it looked like a book I’d like.  So I’ll pick a book up for its cover, but it’s not a guarantee that I’ll actually take it home.  Until I had to, I just didn’t.  And for what it’s worth, I thought it was wonderful and well worth the read.

Word of mouth is really hit or miss for me.  It depends entirely on the mouth.  And there are recommendations I’ll take from someone and others I’ll disregard, if I think it’s clear the book doesn’t fall in the center of the Venn diagram of our tastes.  I have definitely at times chosen not to read something, based on who I know who loves it.

So I guess in the end I’m much more about critical mass than anything else.  Given enough reasons, I’ll pick something up, even if I’ve previously decided not to read it.  Why do you buy?  What works for you, and what decidedly doesn’t?

I’d say the subject that most dominated our discussion was the 1980s setting.  Jim and I both felt that though we love how it plays out in the book, it might have given us some pause as agents considering the book in the slush pile: as Jim asked, “Do kids care about the 80s?”  Fortunately, we had some researchers in the chat to uncover the answer for us.  Anecdotal evidence from Susanna Donato (@SusannaDonato) and DGLM client Brian Bliss (@brainbliss) suggests that teens didn’t mind the choice, might even have been intrigued by it, but would not have cared about the music referenced, which is the source of much of the bond between the two characters.  I was perplexed when Bryan reported that his teen creative writing students wouldn’t have bothered to look up the bands on Park’s mixtapes, until I realized that I didn’t bother to look up the comics that take up an equal amount of the narrative, if not more.  Of course, I’ve heard of them, but it doesn’t mean I fully understand the context.  In the end, I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

After all, that moment where Park first realizes Eleanor is reading his comics along with him and stops to let her catch up has plenty of impact no matter what.  That was one of Kellie Lovegrove (@k_love671)’s favorite parts of the book.  Other favorite moments in the first half included: the very end of the first half, which made Susanna’s heart race.  She also loved when Park asked his grandmother for batteries for his birthday so he could give them to Eleanor.  Jim swooned over “You look like a protagonist…You look like a person who wins in the end.”  And for me, the line referenced in the title of this blog entry, which I loved so much I ran across the room to get a post-it to flag it.

So if you couldn’t make it, tell me, what was YOUR favorite part?  And what did you think of the time period?  Do you have the same sense of dread about whatever Richie reveal is coming our way in the second half?

On May 14^th at 6 p.m. EST, Jim (@JimMcCarthy528) and I (@LaurenAbramo) will reconvene at #EandPdglm to talk with everyone about the rest of the book.  If you haven’t gotten started yet, please jump on in!  It’s a pretty quick, short, wonderful read.  (Though Jim and I were rooting for a contrarian to come along and mix it up—are you that person?  Come tell us why!)  I can’t wait to find out how the rest of the book will unravel.

And in case you want to catch up so you can join us next time, here’s a handy dandy widget with all the good stuff to come out of our chat under the #EandPdglm hashtag:

Tweets about “#EandPdglm”

For those of us in need of a distraction*, what’s more wholesome and good and right in the world than children’s books?  Nothing, I tell you.  So PW’s PWxyz blog has some for you, namely the books that made their staff big enough readers to become the kind of people who work at PW.  Not always children’s books, of course, but a few of those are among my childhood favorites as well.  Rachel Deahl’s reminiscence about The Bridge to Terabithia really strikes a chord with me, though I’m not sure I disliked it so much.  I knew what was going to happen and was determined not to care.  And then I did.  Boy, how I did.

For me, I’m not sure I can totally pinpoint a book.  Certainly the Laura Ingalls Wilder books were incredibly important to me growing up, as I’ve written about before.  If I try to trace it back to the first book I was passionate about, I’d say it would have to be something from the Cam Jansen series.  Do you remember Cam?  She had a photographic memory (hence her name), and she solved mysteries by puzzling together the clues hidden in her brain.  She was brilliant and feisty and dedicated and maybe a bit of a show off.

I like to think she’s still a role model for me today, though my memory isn’t quite photographic and I’ve never had to locate missing monkeys.

So what did it for you?  Was it a children’s book or something you encountered later in life?  When did you give yourself up to the reading gods and never turn back?

*Did that not work?  Try this.

P.S. Do you know about the group read Jim and I are doing?  Are you already reading Eleanor & Park?  We can’t wait to discuss with you.

We have lots of ideas that we’re going to try out with this. Keep eyes on this page and on both of our Twitter feeds for updates.

Throughout the process, we’ll have Twitter chats and longer form blog discussions, and we want you to be involved.

If there’s one thing Lauren and I have learned over the several years we’ve worked together, it’s that neither of us has any shortage of opinions, so with any luck this will be a lively discussion.

So what’s next on the docket? Read the first half of the book! Our first Twitter chat with be at 6:00 Eastern on April 30, and the first big blog discussion will be on Friday, May 3.

Hope to see you all there!

UPDATE: Join us tonight, Tuesday, 4/30, at 6 p.m. to discuss the first half of ELEANOR & PARK!  Just follow the hashtag #eandpdglm on Twitter.

To that end, Jim and I have a mission for you:  let’s all pick a book, read it at the same time, and discuss it together.  We’ve selected four options, and now you can vote for which one we should all read.  We’ll set up a schedule so we can have a few discussions along the way, with the aim that we’ll finish reading by end of May.

So which should it be?  Place your vote in the comments—one book per commenter, please.

Herman Koch’s The Dinner?

Mary Roach’s Gulp?

Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor & Park?

Maria Semple’s Where’d You Go, Bernadette??

On Monday, Jim will let you know who the winner is and the how/when/where of discussing.  So get to voting!

P.S. Three cheers for these authors who all have websites that are easy to find by searching their names, navigate, and link to the book you want!  Koch’s is actually here, but since his website is (understandably) in Dutch, I linked to RH.

UPDATE: Thanks for the votes, folks!  Eleanor & Park was the victor.  We hope you’ll all join us!  Details here: http://www.dystel.com/2013/04/the-abramomccarthy-book-reading-bonanza/

UPDATE 2: Join us tonight, Tuesday, 4/30, at 6 p.m. to discuss the first half of ELEANOR & PARK!  Just follow the hashtag #eandpdglm on Twitter.

This made me think of how many more authors would be recognizable now than they ever have been before.  Thanks to social media, I know what plenty of authors I’ve never met look like, even many whose books I haven’t read.  Sure, some books have author photos in them, but not all, and you don’t have to be Thomas Pynchon to be fairly unknown as a person to your biggest fans.

When I worked at Barnes & Noble in college, I loved when celebrities came into the store for the fun of seeing them, sure, but I also loved seeing other people see them.  Among my favorite experiences is the day a girl nearly fainted at the sight of David Lascher (who you may recall as Sabrina the Teenage Witch’s boyfriend, or, if you are a truly awesome person of a certain age, as Ted from Hey Dude).  She was on vacation with her family, and you could just tell that it was everything she ever dreamed would be possible on her trip to New York City.  He was lovely and gracious about it, and her face after he continued on his way was absolute bliss.

So is that our world now?  I’ve definitely seen the enthusiastic “OH EM GEE, [insert author here] retweeted me!!!!” messages (you can go ahead and mentally add the appropriate emoticons), and you just need to click onto an author page on Facebook to see how engaged people are with authors as celebrities.  Does that bleed over into the real world yet?  Have you ever seen one of your favorite authors in an unexpected place (so not at a signing or conference)?  If so, did you say hi?  And authors, have you been approached in the grocery store?  Would you want to be?

In a happy coincidence, there’s a Sporcle photo quiz of novelists, poets, and playwrights.  Hey, it’s Friday, give it a go and let us know how you do.

So I think I need to get some more narrative nonfiction on my to do read pile, and maybe I should spice things up with a thriller or two.  Any suggestions?

• A universal territory schedule: If you have a book deal in English, you might’ve seen a long list of countries in the back of your contract, often labeled Schedule A.  That’s the territory schedule, my nemesis.  You see, the world gets carved up into blocks by the publishers buying rights, so there are a variety of territories you can sell, most often World (which includes translation rights as well), World English, US/Canada, or UK & Commonwealth.  Anything excluded from that is either reserved to the author, licensed exclusively to a second publisher, or part of the Open Market, which is primarily the world’s non-English-speaking countries, where US and UK publishers are typically free to distribute competing editions.  Sounds simple enough, right?

Except that apparently we can’t just agree that when we said UK & Commonwealth, we meant, you know, UK & Commonwealth.  There are the most common exceptions, like Commonwealth Canada going on over to the US side and non-Commonwealth Ireland getting grouped in on the UK side, for proximity reasons.  And then there are the many inane fights I have every year about whether Malaysia is Open Market or Commonwealth.  Hey, guess what debate is easily settled by the Commonwealth of Nations website?  (Fortunately we’re not believers in granting exclusive Europe to UK publishers, because otherwise I’d have to add “Israel is not in Europe” to my list of regular grievances.  This isn’t Eurovision or UEFA, my friends.)  And yet, we must argue these things all the time.  If you want to fight with me about whether or not you should get to sell books in Tristan da Cunha, I need you to fly me there and show me your distribution chain.  I will then contemplate your argument for several days on the beach and get back to you when I’ve decided.  Alternatively, I’d accept a Universal Schedule A that all of us in publishing agree to now, so we can stop having this conversation ad nauseam.  Then anyone who wants to pretend South Africa’s not a Commonwealth country or Iran is will have to say so, up front, when making their offer.

•  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Popular science and interdisciplinary nonfiction.

•  Mandatory naptime.  Look, I work in foreign rights, and it’s really important for me to be in tune with cultural differences.  So I’m going to start taking siestas.  I really think it’s going to do amazing things for our list in Spain.

•  A robot that can be programmed to clear up my office clutter to my exact specifications each night when I leave, because I am very very particular, very very busy, and very very sick of tripping over the books that I knock on the ground each day.

•  A wall-sized magnetic world map and teensy tiny book cover magnets so that when I sell a book, I can put it in the appropriate country, because how cool would that be?

•  Peace on Earth, good will towards men.

•  My two front teeth*

•  You**

*Worst Christmas song ever?

**Best Christmas song ever.

Reflecting on this brought to mind the debate those of us in publishing go through before every long weekend or vacation: work reading or pleasure reading or both?  We breathlessly discuss which books we’re taking on our vacations.  There’s intense analysis of the towering To Read piles and lengthy lists—what to bring?  How many?  E-reader or hard copy or both?  What are you reading?  Which of these did you like more?  Should I bring some manuscripts or put all work aside?

I can’t recall ever hearing someone in publishing say, “I can’t wait for vacation!  I’m not going to read anything.”  A total vacation from publishing means cramming your suitcase with a huge stack of books that you don’t have a vested interest in, not taking a break from books.

It occurs to me that publishing is an industry all about the busman’s holiday. Frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

Any suggestions for what to cram into my suitcase for my vacation next month?