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?

Yesterday, one of my clients asked me if I still enjoyed reading for pleasure because I review so many flawed manuscripts.  I answered that, indeed, I am able to put my “agent’s hat” aside when reading for my own enjoyment (other than, of course, to wish that the book I am loving had been one I had represented).  The problem is that I have so little time to choose what I read and so many books to choose from.

So, I am very eager to have your suggestions.  Not only would I like to know the titles and authors of the books you single out, but also why you think they are great reads.

I very much look forward to hearing from you.

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”

Problem is, that I’m reading a downer of a book.  Breasts by Florence Williams is a smart, well-written (although badly copyedited), lively discussion about our most objectified and misunderstood of body parts.  Unfortunately, the book has more in common with Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring than a Jackie Collins novel.   Basically, Ms. Williams argues that this most intelligent and adaptive of glands is also the most vulnerable to environmental toxins and the chemical stew that we are all bathing in 24/7.  Well, that was not the escapist literature I needed to take my mind off current events.

So, I eagerly accepted my son’s invitation to watch a movie with him.  But, he’s currently obsessed with all things Harry Potter and wanted to watch The Goblet of Fire.  You know, the one where that cute kid from Twilight dies and Voldemort is getting more and more powerful and evil.  What the….

By the end of that movie, I was desperately looking around my bookshelves for the happiest, peppiest, most life affirming book I could find.  Note to self, get more light reading in the house.  I finally settled on Nora Ephron and David Sedaris.  No, they’re not all that happy, but they reliably make me laugh and after that kind of week, humor is definitely healing.

What do you read when you feel like everything’s going to hell in a handbasket?  Share your upbeat choices…puhleeeze!

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.

I’ve always been drawn to dark literature about unimaginable suffering—I remember reading Night by Elie Wiesel when I was probably too young to fully comprehend the scale of the horror he depicted, but the starkness of the images has stayed with me across the decades.  Periodically, because life is full of breathtaking tragedy, a writer is skilled enough to present his or her experience of his or her own unimaginable suffering in a way that sheds light on our sorrows and losses and the process by which we cope (well or badly) with them.

The most successful of these narratives tend to be lean and unvarnished and the authors of these books are unsparing of themselves and their readers.  They tend to be short books and completely engrossing—playing on that thing that compels human beings to stop and watch a train wreck even if we will have nightmares forever after.  So, why am I as loath to pick up a copy of Wave as I am compelled to read it?  And, which impulse should I give in to.

How do you guys feel about this kind of grief narrative?  Do you find that you force yourselves to read these books or do you pass them by on the bookshelves out of an instinct for self-preservation (emotional, that is)?

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.

In more modern literature, the omens are tougher to spot, maybe requiring a careful rereading (and a helpful English teacher to point them out at every turn), but they are a mainstay. Whether it’s Poe’s raven or the harbinger of Anne Shirley’s doomed marriage as she envisions her funeral the morning of her wedding, the little things an author inserts into their work are rarely there by accident.

The Huffington Post ran a slideshow of some pretty interesting omens in literature, from ancient texts through to Harry Potter (that darn Grim!)—some I hadn’t even considered until they were pointed out. It goes back to that rereading aspect. Picking out nuances and theretofore unrecognized significances, symbols and yes, omens, upon reading a book over again with knowledge of how it all plays out is one of the many delights of literature.

Have you discovered any signs or portents while rereading a favorite book? Anything you didn’t notice the first time around that seem so obvious upon a second or third session?

But, this isn’t the first time I’ve been led to an artist that I became infatuated with through a reference in a book.  The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love led me to explore the golden age of Cuban music (pre-Castro, pre-exodus), for instance.  And, novels like  A Visit from the Goon Squad  are veritable treasure troves of musical references while memoirs like Patti Smith’s, Keith Richards’ and Neil Young’s can keep you looking up song titles on iTunes for weeks.  Since I believe great songwriting is poetry and poetry is storytelling that rhymes (or doesn’t), I love the marriage of literature and music.

On this Valentine’s eve, what devastating, unforgettable songs have you come across in books?

These are, of course, true, if a little bit precious, completely clichéd, and totally overused statements. However, they are so because there is that grain of truth to them. Books really can make you forget your surroundings, drop all cares and make reality unimportant for a little while.

The problem is, however, getting there. Getting immersed in a book is heavily dependent on how much you can let yourself be taken in by it. I find, personally, that unless I’ve already gotten in deep with a book and it’s one of those that I’m thinking about even when I’m not reading, when I’m planning the next time I can really sit down and make another dent in the pages, that it takes some settling in to focus.

Oddly, I’ve found I concentrate best on a book when I’m not at home surrounded by all those cozy comforts. My favorite reading locales are bustling cafes, bars and coffee shops. Couldn’t tell you why, and I don’t know that it’s completely normal, but the complete familiarity of my apartment* and the quietness I find there is more of a distraction than continuous chatter, background music and movement.

Sometimes I prefer going out alone solely so I can sit by myself and read—it makes me happy and I focus on a book all the better for it. Just last night, I was reading alone at my favorite watering hole and it was there that I was finally able to get to the point of “okay, I’ve got the measure of this book now” where I couldn’t when I had started it at home mere minutes earlier. The lights went down, but one of the bartenders came over and made me a makeshift candle tower (not as precarious as it sounds, I promise) and so read on I did.

Where do you read best? Is it home with something nice to drink or munch on, in the park, library, café, bar or anywhere else? Am I less of an oddball than I imagined? Whenever I’m out at a coffee shop I see more people on laptops than anything else, so I suppose the home-away-from-home aspect transcends all media, but then again, computers come with headphones, and I’m no good at reading with headphones in, so there’s that. Rambling over, and awaiting your replies!

*Oddly, the same is not true of my childhood home, where I can read on the living room couch ‘til the cows come home, but I’d say that’s more a matter of habit than any kind of conscious preference.