TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SEARCH ME

« SORRENTINO IN L.A. TIMES | Main | IN WHICH ALL PRODUCTIVE LABORS AROUND HERE CEASE »

May 24, 2006

Comments

Maud

Thanks for your post, Mark. To be fair to everyone, I should say: I did receive an official apology from Crown a couple days after I posted that item. I need to append that to my post.

Gwenda

Well said. I couldn't agree more. I'm very grateful for the extremely nice, generous publicists I've encountered and who send me books asked or unasked for.

The only time I ever bother being irritated for even half a sec it's almost always an author with a self-published book being demanding and jerky or rude people affiliated with Christian books of some sort. And sometimes those are good for a few laughs.

I'm willing to give just about anything else a chance...

p.s. Sorry I didn't get to catch up to you and chat at BEA. Too little time.

Shauna McKenna

Bravo, Mark. I can't add anything but to say that it's every bit as honorable to promote, market, edit & distribute wonderful books as it is to write them. Sanctimoniousness about the commerce of literature might be right on at some times, but simply cannot be universalized.

ed

Where specifically did any of the litbloggers who griped claim publicists to be "craven, money grubbing automatons?"

I think what most of the litbloggers posting objected to was the pushy attitude attributed to A FEW of the publicists, but by no means all. There are plenty of amicable, considerate professionals out there that I have been pleased and delighted to correspond with and who have succeeded in targeting my tastes.

But when a publicist repeatedly sends emails with the expectation that we should review a particular title (immediately assuming that they are entitled to a review), when we are sent multiple copies of the book in question, this not only infringes upon the limited time we have at our disposal, but forms a negative impression of a book that may indeed HAVE merits or a specific audience. It's bad for the publishing houses; it's bad for litblogs.

I recognize the fact that publicists are overworked and underpaid. But the great hue and cry likely arose because, unlike a newspaper editor, who has the luxury to write back, most of us have full-time jobs in addition to the work that we do online.

As a constructive and positive solution that bridges the divide, I contend, as I suggested at Sarah's panel, that it would be extremely fruitful to both publicists and litbloggers alike to set up some kind of contact network, something along the lines of a Writer's Market for publicists, where a publicist can determine which blogs are interested in particular books and not have to wade through thousands of words to figure out what the litblogger likes. The litblogger reaps the merits of books fitting her criteria; the publicist saves considerable time on cold-emailing and targets specifically. And someone grabs a guitar and sings "Kumbaya" shortly before being set on fire by a ULA member who declares all parties involved a threat to the integrity of literature.

TEV

Sorry Edward my chum, disagree with you on nearly every front this time. Herewith, my take - opinions only, obviously:

1) "the litbloggers posting objected to was the pushy attitude attributed to A FEW of the publicists, but by no means all" Well if that's really the case, I can only take the posts as going after anthills with Howitzers. I've been doing this for a while now and have NEVER had a publicist who didn't take the hint after a single email back from me. This breed of pushy people must be passing this site by ...

2) "But when a publicist repeatedly sends emails with the expectation that we should review a particular title (immediately assuming that they are entitled to a review), when we are sent multiple copies of the book in question, this not only infringes upon the limited time we have at our disposal ... " C'mon. Really? How? Ignore the emails, toss the book. You've waste a total of perhaps five seconds. Sorry, this just feels a bit overdramatic to me. It's just not that much of an infringement and the mistake I think bloggers are making is taking it personally.

3. "but forms a negative impression of a book that may indeed HAVE merits or a specific audience. It's bad for the publishing houses; it's bad for litblogs. " Well, my friend, then shame on YOU. Really - you'd blame an innocent book/author for the sins of a publicist? That's not the author's fault, and I would venture to say that's a personal stance you've taken, as I have NEVER thought ill of a book or writer due to a publicist. I'd go farther still to say that this reaction - which you're absolutely entitled to - is a pretty rare one that I haven't really encountered elsewhere.

4. "where a publicist can determine which blogs are interested in particular books and not have to wade through thousands of words to figure out what the litblogger likes." You presume a publicist reads us solely to target books and might not actually be reading as a bonafide book lover themselves. I've had plenty of fine email exchanges with publicists over books they were not even publishing.

5. "The litblogger reaps the merits of books fitting her criteria; " Again, this assumes that a blogger only ever wants to receive exactly what they say they're interested in. Personally - this is just me - I like leaving something open to serendipity where I might get something I'm unexpectedly interested in.

I am, however, all for the round of Kumbaya.

And like I said, and please know I do recognize this Ed, every blogger can absolutely state his own rules of the house. I completely respect that right to do that. But I think in the long run it risks backfiring. Just my two cents, obvs.

Max

Mark, as one of the aforementioned "tipsters," I'd like to make a couple of points. First, I think the word "publicist" got bandied about for lack of a better term. What Dan and Ed and several people, I think, were referring to was anyone and everyone who has decided to make blogs the center of their scattershot marketing campaign, and in reality, very few of these folks are affiliated in any way with major or even minor publishing houses.

My second point is that, at the heart of this controversy (or whatever), I perceive a slight unease at what litblogging has come to be associated with, rather than annoyance at being the target of promotion. Initially I think a lot of us started blogging about books because we were passionate about them, and it never occurred to us that we might be courted by anyone, but suddenly here we are. As I alluded to in a recent post on the topic (sorry for the self link, but it's relevant), going to BEA made me think could I (or would I) still do this if people stopped sending me books? It's worth thinking about.

TEV

Hey Max. Your points are taken but it is worth noting that lots of legitimate publicists felt swept up in this net, so perhaps the distinction could have been clearer. But I'd also add that those kinds of calls - and I get them, too - are the easiest to delete and ignore.

Your closing question is a good one - speaking for myself, I was buying books for quite a while after launching TEV, and I'm confident I'd go on doing same. But it's undeniable that the opportunity to see these books early and for free is a perk - perhaps the only one we get!

gwenda

--but it's relevant), going to BEA made me think could I (or would I) still do this if people stopped sending me books?--

This is a good question, Max, and one I've thought about too. I can honestly say yes. I blogged before I ever got free books in the mail and I'd keep doing it, because I do it to have a place to spout off about books and other things I like. (Well, to be honest, initially it was to cut down on email time, but once people I didn't know started reading then the scope broadened.) The vast majority of books I write about on my blog are _not_ ones I got for free in the mail from publishers. Many of them are books I check out of the library after seeing recommendations elsewhere, but don't have enough commitment to buy or request a copy. Others are books given to me by friends who know my taste well and think I'll like them. Many others, I, gasp, buy. (I try to cut down on the latter.)

But I'm very grateful for the ones that come in the mail and when one hits the target, man, does it brighten up the world. When it doesn't, man, does it brighten up the library bookstore we donate to, or the used bookstore that gives us store credit. Or the people I stick a copy of something in the mail to. Anyway. I think Mark's right that there's lots of good homes for books that many of us would _never_ be interested in.

I agree with Mark that it seems like the time it takes to deal with pushy publicists or authors is being overstated. I've always found that being ignored or hitting the spam button seems to make messages miraculously stop, after not that long.

Dan Wickett

As quite possibly the tool that began this brouhaha, I must admit Mark, that I quickly realized that my original post may not have been clear enough as to whom it was intended for - and that was not mainstream publicists, but instead, POD authors, self-help wings of publishers, and the like.

In fact, the particular email that triggered my post was one that ended the first paragraph to me with the line "while I know you are extremely busy, I believe this title would be perfect for your audience." None of the publicists I know and deal with on even a semi-regular basis would have put that in a letter without truly knowing if it was true or not.

While nowhere do I recall declaring publicists greedy, nor bottom feeders, I still felt it necessary to write a second post either later that night, or early the next day just To Be Clear - there I proclaimed my admiration for publicists - at least those that I was aware of.

Beyond that, I followed up on an idea Scott had and actually emailed every publicist I know and asked them if they'd like to have their views expressed on a blog - though I did let them know in that email, in case they'd only read one of my posts, that the original post was not intended to be read as a diatribe against them. Possibly because of that fact in the email, or possibly due to time constraints (in at least two cases I know this was the case), only one publicist replied.

Re-reading my first post, while I still obviously felt it had enough attitude behind it to write that second post, I also still see that there was less venom in terms of name calling, and more suggestion aspects in the post.

I still think that publicists, who are strapped for time and funds, would do themselves a bit of a favor learning who they are sending books to. In conversations with many, I know some have gone to the trouble of learning what books some paper reviewers might be interested in - and I think part of the reason they've done so is that lack of time and funds.

Why not spend a bit of time beforehand and save many wasted hours, galleys, review copies, envelopes, postage, etc.?

But, while I made some effort at my own site to apologize for any hard feelings I may have caused with my original post - your site Mark gets much more traffic, and for those great publicists that I did offend, and possibly didn't reconcile with my further posting, I apologize here to them. I realize their love of books and the authors they are promoting is even beyond mine and their pay only slightly more than my non-existent pay.

I've said it before, and it remains true - I don't blog or review or interview or whatever for free books. They are an incredible perk - and seeing things early is as well. I did this stuff for over a year without ever getting anything free and still spend well beyond what I should on books and journals weekly. That said, I appreciate greatly those that I receive.

marf

Ad nauseam

Colleen Lindsay

Wow. Speaking as one of the people who used to be on the publishing end of things, let me set a few things straight.

First, publicists get paid crap. Seriously. They don't get paid enough to simply shill books. Most publicists befriend their authors, and even if they don't care for the book they're working on, they care enough about the author to try to do their best at getting it whatever attention they can.

Second, sometimes you're getting books from an assistant. They're learning to be publicists. They are told to take chances. So sometimes they make mistakes, and send books to a venue that isn't appropriate. Hey, big whoop. It's a free book. Throw it out if you don't want it. Or do as Mark suggests: send a simple email "thanks but no thanks."

Offended that they publicist in question isn't thoroughly versed in the minutiae of your particular blog? Get over it. Publicists work from a pre-made list that someone else put together. They don't have time in their day-to-day jobs to surf the net all day and read blogs. At Random House, all publicists work from the same publicity database. The database is pretty accurate for the most part, as it is scrubbed regularly. But sometimes mistakes slip through. And if you choose to simply bitch about "stupid publicists" rather than sending an email to correct the mistake, ensuring that the database gets changed and nobody else sends books to you, well you sort of deserve what you get.

And yes, the publicists are pushy. They are paid to be agressive in promoting their books. it's a job requirement. They are going to email and call you to folow up on a mailing until they get a yea or nay. It's part of being good at what they do.

And here's the last thing to note: Big trade publishing is archaic. They are just discovering blogs and the internet. Most publicity directors - including the one I worked for the last year I worked at Ballantine - don't believe that the Internet is even worthwhile persuing as a promotional venue. It's really kind of sad. So anytime you as a blogger receive any kind of attention from a publicist at a large trade publishing house, it's because someone in the publicity department - probably someone young who isn;t being apid very much - is being forward thinking and trying to break out of the stale mold of print reviews that so many of their colleagues are overly dependent upon.

My two cents.

Colleen Lindsay

PS: Apologies for all the typos. I am a terrible typist!!! :-)

Kate S.

Mark,

I agree with you. I'm always pleased to be offered books that interest me, and I have no trouble politely refusing those that don't. I've worked for print publications in the past and although some of the books that were sent unsolicited made us scratch our heads, no one ever regarded those mismatches as an insult to the publication. I think it's a happy thing that publishers and publicists are beginning to recognize the power of blogs to spread the word about good books and I'm inclined to encourage them.

Scott

Mark,

I agree with most of what you said here. Yes, it's easy to just type "not interested" in response to an unwanted email. Yes, I can give books I don't want to the library.

Maybe the tone of my post wasn't exactly right in expressing this, but what I wanted to do was open up a dialog with publicists and try to set up some communicty norms. First of all, I started off my post by thanking all the good publicists I've worked with and expressly saying that there's a lot of them out there. My post wasn't meant as a blanket comdemnation at all.

Second, I ended my post by expressly asking publicists to give me their side of things. Yes, I had my say, but I genuinely wanted to hear the other side of things. If they really think of me as someone they're working with to promote good books, then I wish some of them would have told me that, either as a comment or as an email. I would have appreciated hearing it, and it would hve changed the way I looked at the situation. But in fact I didn't hear from anyone.

Nancy Hendrickson

As both a publicist and a reviewer, I can see both sides of this issue.

When I'm wearing my publicist hat, I do my absolute best to track down sites I feel are relevant to my author's books. I'm not working from a canned list that someone handed me, but instead compile lists myself.

Does that mean I never slip up? Heck no! But my mistakes are truly mistakes, and not generated by dollar signs in my eyes. After all, I WANT you to request a copy of my author's book, so why in the world would I do something that might offend you?

On this issue. all I ask for is the same level of politeness that I afford those I approach. If you'd like a copy, great. If not, a "no thank you" works fine too.

I'm much more interested in establishing relationships with litbloggers than pushing books on people who don't want them; in fact,it's my goal to work with a small group of bloggers who are open to receiving my books, and who know that I have no expectations from them other than a fair assessment of the book.

I wish there were a community where those who wish to receive books in specific genres would sign up, and those of us WITH books could contact them. Hmmm . . . not a bad idea . . . do I have time to build yet one more site? ;)

On the flip side of that coin, when I'm wearing my reviewer hat, I appreciate being offered books in genres about which I write; AND, I shake my head in amazement when I get books so far off the target I know no one actually looked at my site. However, I do try and respond with a polite "no thanks".

I appreciate this discussion and hope my thoughts add a little to it.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Working...
Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Working...

Post a comment

RECOMMENDED

  • Nobility of Spirit: A Forgotten Ideal by Rob Riemen

    NoS PB SM

    This slim volume by the president and founder of the Nexus Institute, a European-based humanist think-tank, stands as the most stirring redoubt against the ascendant forces of know-nothingness that we've come across in a long time. A full-throated, unapologetic defense of the virtues of Western Civ – in which "elite" is not and never should be a dirty word – this inspiring exploration of high art and high ideals is divided into three sections: The first looks at the life of Riemen's great hero Thomas Mann as a model for the examined life. The second imagines a series of conversations from turning points in European intellectual history, populated with the likes of Socrates, Nietzsche and others. The final section, "Be Brave," is nothing less than an exhortation to dig deep, especially in times of risk. The notion of nobility of the spirit might strike some modern ears as quaint but it seems more desperately necessary than ever before, and there are worse ways to read the accessible Nobility of Spirit than as a crash refresher in the Great Thinkers, free of academic jargon and cant. As a meditation on what is at stake when the pursuit of high ideals is elbowed aside by the pursuit of fleeting material gain, however, Nobility of Spirit might well be the most prescient book we've yet read on what's at stake in the current election cycle and in the developing global situation. Agree or disagree with Riemen's profound, ambitious and high-minded plea, you will be thinking about his words for a long time. It's been ages since a work of non-fiction moved us this way. Read it. Discuss it. Argue about it.
  • Netherland by Joseph O'Neill

    Netherland_2

    With rave reviews from James Wood, Michiko Kakutani and Dwight Garner, it might not seem like we need to tell you to drop everything and go read Netherland, but we are telling you, and here's why: The way book coverage works these days, everyone talks about the same book for about two or three weeks, and then they move on and the book is more or less forgotten. Whereas a berth here in the Recommended sidebar keeps noteworthy titles in view for a good, long time, which is the sort of sustained attention this marvelous novel deserves. A Gatsby-like meditation on exclusion and otherness, it's an unforgettable New York story in which the post 9/11 lives of Hans, a Dutch banker estranged from his English wife, and Chuck Ramkissoon, a mysterious cricket entrepreneur, intertwine. The New York City of the immigrant margins is unforgettably invoked in gorgeous, precise prose, and the novel's luminous conclusion is a radiant beacon illuminating one of our essential questions, the question of belonging. Our strongest possible recommendation.
  • Dictation: A Quartet by Cynthia Ozick

    Dictation

    "History," wrote Henry James in a 1910 letter to his amanuensis Theodora Bosanquet, "is strangely written." This casual aside could easily serve as the epigraph of Cynthia Ozick's superb new collection Dictation, which concerns itself with lost worlds evoked by languages -- languages which separate and obscure as readily as they bind. It can be risky to look for connective tissue between stories written years apart and published in magazines ranging from The Conradian to The New Yorker. But themes of deception, posterity, and above all, the glory of language -- at once malleable and intractable -- knit together this quartet, recasting the whole as the harmonious product of Ozick's formidable talent. Read the entire review here

  • Diary of a Bad Year by J. M. Coetzee

    Yr

    Now, on the one hand, you scarcely need us to alert you to the existence of a new J.M. Coetzee novel, or even to have us tell you it's worth reading. But we can tell you - we insist on telling you that Diary of a Bad Year is a triumph, easily Coetzee's most affecting and fully wrought work since Disgrace. Formally inventive, the book intertwines two narratives with the author's own Strong Opinions, a series of seemingly discrete philosophical and political essays. The cumulative effect of this strange trio is deeply moving and thought provoking. It's increasingly rare in this thoroughly post-post-modern age to raise the kind of questions in fiction Coetzee handles so masterfully - right down to what is it, exactly, that we expect (or need) from our novels. It's telling that, for all of his serious pronouncements on subjects ranging from censorship to pedophilia to the use of torture, it's finally a few pages from The Brothers Karamazov that brings him to tears. Moving, wise and - how's this for a surprise - funny and lightly self-mocking, Diary of a Bad Year might well be the book of the year and Coetzee is surely our essential novelist. We haven't stopped thinking about it since we set it down.
  • The Indian Clerk by David Leavitt

    Tic_2

    David Leavitt's magnificent new novel tells the story of the unlikely friendship between the British mathematician G.H. Hardy and Srinivasa Ramanujan, mathematical autodidact and prodigy who had been working as a clerk in Madras, and who would turn out to be one of the great mathematical minds of the century. Ramanujan reluctantly joined Hardy in England - a move that would ultimately prove to his detriment - and the men set to work on proving the Riemann Hypothesis, one of mathematics' great unsolved problems. The Indian Clerk, an epic and elegant work which spans continents and decades, encompasses a World War, and boasts a cast of characters that includes Bertrand Russell, Ludwig Wittgenstein and Lytton Strachey. Leavitt renders the complex mathematics in a manner that resonates emotionally as well as intellectually, and writes with crystalline elegance. The metaphor of the prime number – divisible only by one and itself – is beautifully apt for this tale of these two isolated geniuses. Leavitt's control of this dense, sprawling material is impressive – astonishing, at times – and yet despite its scope, he keeps us focused on his great themes of unknowability and identity. The Indian Clerk might be set in the past but it doesn't resemble most so-called "historical fiction." Rather, it's an ageless meditation on the quests for knowledge and for the self – and how frequently the two are intertwined – that is, finally, as timeless as the music of the primes. (View our full week of coverage here.)
  • Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris

    Jf

    Joshua Ferris' warm and funny debut novel is an antidote to the sneering likes of The Office and Max Barry's Company. Treating his characters with both affection and respect, Ferris takes us into a Chicago ad agency at the onset of the dot-bomb. Careers are in jeopardy, nerves are frayed and petty turf wars are fought. But there are bigger stakes in the balance, and Ferris' weirdly indeterminate point of view that's mostly first person plural, underscores the shared humanity of everyone who has ever had to sit behind a desk. It's a luminous, affecting debut and you can read the first chapter right here.
  • Christine Falls by Benjamin Black

    Cf

    Coming to these shores at last, John Banville's thriller, written under the nom de plume Benjamin Black, has drawn rave reviews across the pond since it first appeared last October. Those who feared Banville might turn in an overly literary effort needn't worry. Influenced by Simenon's romans durs (hard stories), Banville unspools a dark mystery set in 1950s Dublin concerning itself with, among other things, the church's trade in orphans. At the heart of the book is the coroner Quirke, a Banvillean creation on par with Alex Cleave and Freddie Montgomery. Dublin is rendered with a damp, creaky specificity – you can almost taste the whisky.
  • The Paris Review Interviews, I by The Paris Review and Philip Gourevitch

    Pri

    Scanning our Recommended selections, one might conclude we're addicted to interviews, and one would be correct. If author interviews are like crack to us, then the Paris Review author interviews must surely be the gold standard of crack (a comparison Plimpton might not have embraced). The newly issued The Paris Review Interviews, Volume I (Picador) rolls out the heavy hitters. Who can possibly turn away from the likes of Saul Bellow, T.S. Eliot, Ernest Hemingway, Jorge Luis Borges, Dorothy Parker, Robert Gottlieb and others? The interviews are formal and thoughtful but never dry and can replace any dozen "how-to" books on writing. What can be more comforting than hearing Bellow, answering a question on preparations and conception, admit "Well, I don't know exactly how it's done.” The best part of this collection? The "Volume I" in the title, with its promise of more volumes to come.
  • Above Paris

    Ap_3

    See, we’re not all literary fiction here. Princeton Architectural Press’s absolutely breathtaking Above Paris is very much the kind of thing we’re eager to bring to your attention. Between 1950 and 1972, pilot and photographer Roger Henrard recorded more than 350 images of Paris from the seat of a single-engine Piper cub, documenting Paris from its outskirts to its center. His photographs show not only Paris's famous landmarks - they also give you a sense of the way the city is interconnected: the tight-knit medieval districts as well as the expansive geometry of the grand boulevards. Maps at the beginning of each chapter and fine captions and essays by Jean-Louis Cohen help you navigate the City of Light as never before. Just glorious.
  • The Dead Fish Museum: Stories by Charles D'Ambrosio

    Dfm

    The best short story collection we've read since ... well, certainly since we've started this blog. And we might even say "ever" if Dubliners didn't cast such a long shadow. The short story is not our preferred form but D'Ambrosio's eight brilliant stories are almost enough to convert us. Defy the conventional wisdom that short story collections don't sell and treat yourself to this marvel. (We're especially partial, naturally, to "Screenwriter".)
  • The Mystery Guest by Grégoire Bouillier
    *Now in Paperback*

    Mg

    What would you do if the woman who’d left you high and dry ten years ago called out of the blue to invite you to a party without any further explanation? If you’re French, you’d probably spend a lot of time pondering the Deeper Significance Of It All, which is exactly what Grégoire Bouillier does for the 120 hilarious pages of The Mystery Guest. This slim, witty memoir follows Bouillier through the party from hell, and is a case study in Gallic self-abasement. Before it’s all done, you’ll set fire to any turtleneck hanging in your closet and think twice before buying an expensive Bordeaux as a gift. But fear not – just when it seems that all is, indeed, random and pointless and there is no Deeper Significance, salvation arrives in the unlikely form of Virginia Woolf, and the tale ends on a note of unforced optimism. Parfait.
  • Ticknor by Sheila Heti

    Ticknor

    When George Ticknor's Life of William Hickling Prescott was published in 1864, it received rapturous notices, and reviewers were quick to point out that the long-standing friendship between Prescott and Ticknor made the latter an ideal Boswell. Sheila Heti has pulled this obscure leaf from the literary archives and fashioned a mordantly funny anti-history; a pungent and hilarious study of bitterness and promise unfulfilled. As a fretful Ticknor navigates his way through the rain-soaked streets of Boston to Prescott's house ("But I am not a late man. I hate to be late."), he recalls his decidedly one-sided lifelong friendship with his great subject. Unlike the real-life Ticknor, this one is an embittered also-ran, full of plans and intentions never realized, always alive to the fashionable whispers behind his back. Heti seamlessly inhabits Ticknor's fussy 19th-century diction with a feat of virtuoso ventriloquism that puts one in mind of The Remains of the Day. Heti's Ticknor would be insufferable if he weren't so funny, and in the end, the black humor brings a leavening poignancy to this brief tale. But don't let the size fool you — this 109-page first novel is small but scarcely slight; it is as dense and textured as a truffle.
  • The Believer Book of Writers Talking to Writers by Vendela Vida

    Bbk

    No, your eyes aren't deceiving you and yes, we are recommending a Believer product. Twenty-three interviews (a third presented for the first time) pairing the likes of Zadie Smith with Ian McEwan, Jonathan Lethem with Paul Auster, Edward P. Jones and ZZ Packer, and Adam Thirwell with Tom Stoppard make this collection a must-read. Lifted out of the context of some of the magazine's worst twee excesses, the interviews stand admirably on their own as largely thoughtful dialogues on craft. A handful of interviewers seem more interested in themselves than in their subjects but in the main this collection will prove irresistible to writers of any stripe - struggling or established - and to readers seeking a window into the creative process.
  • The Sea by John Banville

    Sea_1

    John Banville's latest novel returns him to the Booker Prize shortlist for the first time since 1989's The Book of Evidence. In The Sea, we find Banville in transition, moving from the icy, restrained narrators of The Untouchable, Eclipse and Shroud toward warmer climes. Max Morden has returned to the vacation spot of his youth as he grieves the death of his wife. Remembering his first, fatal love, Morden works to reconcile himself to his loss. Banville's trademark linguistic virtuosity is everpresent but some of the chilly control is relinquished and Max mourns and rages in ways that mark a new direction for Banville - and there's at least one great twist which you'll never see coming. Given the politicized nature of the British literary scene, Banville's shot at the prize might be hobbled by his controversial McEwan review but we're rooting for our longtime favorite to go all the way at last. UPDATE: Our man won!
  • Here Is Where We Meet by John Berger

    Berger

    We've been fans of Booker Prize winner John Berger for ages, and we're delighted to have received an early copy of his latest work, Here is Where We Meet. In this lovely, elliptical, melancholy "fictional memoir," Berger traverses European cities from Libson to Geneva to Islington, conversing with shades from his past – He encounters his dead mother on a Lisbon tram, a beloved mentor in a Krakow market. Along the way, we're treated to marvelous and occasionally heart-rending glimpses of an extraordinary life, a lyrical elegy to the 20th century from a man who - in his eighth decade - remains committed to his political beliefs and almost childlike in his openness to people, places and experiences. There's no conventional narrative here, and those seeking plot are advised to look elsewhere. But Here is Where We Meet offers a wise, moving and poetic look at the life of an artist traversing the European century from a novelist whose talent remains undimmed in his twilight years.
  • Home Land by Sam Lipsyte

    Slc

    In his recent TEV guest review of Home Land, Jim Ruland called Sam Lipsyte the "funniest writer of his generation," and we're quite inclined to agree.  We tore through Home Land in two joyful sittings and can't remember the last time we've laughed so hard.   Lipsyte's constellation of oddly sympathetic losers is rendered with a sparkling, inspired prose style that's sent us off in search of all his prior work. In Lewis Miner's (a.k.a Teabag) woeful epistolary dispatches to his high school alumni newsletter ("I did not pan out."), we find an anti-hero for the age.  Highly, highly recommended.

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."

BUY INDEPENDENT!