Book Hype

My father-in-law recently built and installed two floor-to-ceiling bookcases in our living room. Even when we sorted through and dispersed some of our collection, we found that we quickly filled these cases. When FinL visited again, he expressed some concern over the sagging in one of them, but pronounced them sound. Do you see where this is going? Today, one of the shelves collapsed.

This is not a reflection on my FinL's work, but it is an illustration of the fact that it is indeed possible to own too many books. I'm a happy supporter of my local independent bookstore, but I also love my library and after today's experience, I have to love my library more often than I visit my bookstore. The problem with loving the library is that I sometimes wait months to read the "hot" book. I have some weird panicky quirk that makes me loathe to get a book put on hold for me, so I'm really at the mercy of how quickly my very literate community gets through the book(s) of the season. Sometimes I've come by a book so late that the hype has freaked me out to the point that I don't like the book, don't get what all the fuss was about (The Lovely Bones). Other times I just enjoy reading something at my own pace. I recently finally got my hands on two uber-hyped books and had very different reactions.

I finally read Kathryn Stockett's The Help (about a year behind schedule) and I really liked it. I had given up on it when I saw that there were 36 holds on the first book returned (out of 10) at the library. Then I more or less forgot about it. A colleague handed it to me recently and so I read it. I didn't have that same shuddering realization that I'd had with Hillary Jordan's Mudbound, that shock at realizing how recently we still discriminated so openly against people of color, but The Help was a good read. I was a bit disappointed by the ending because it felt like the black maids were sending the poor little rich white girl out into the bigger world while they'd stay and take the heat. That was the first time that I felt I was reading a book about blacks that was written by a white person and I'd gone in skeptical. I'd listened to a panel of readers on the Diane Rehm show awhile back who had really enjoyed the book's story, but each had agreed that Stockett didn't get the speech patterns right. They said they forgave her quickly because the story was such a good one. So, yeah, I was nervous, but in the end The Help earned the hype.

Then, recently, I ran out of books to read. I was floundering, really. There was a ton I wanted to read, but not necessarily buy. I noticed The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo on our now-collapsed shelf and thought, why not? EVERYONE loves this book. I knew nothing about it, having purchased it for my husband based entirely on the hype at our local bookstore when it first came out. I'd even bought him the next two for Christmas and birthday, but I knew nothing. I wasn't enthusiastic, though, because I'd really disliked Smila's Sense of Snow. Husband Ben assured me it wasn't much like that, but I pictured cold and slow. I was further discouraged by having looked at it a year ago and discovered that the first 20 pages was about banking. Yep, 20 pages of Swedish banking (or something very much like banking). This time around, in desperation, I skipped all of that and plunged in.

Well, I didn't know about the torture and the rapes. How could I? I had female friends who raved about this. Everyone loved this book.

To me, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a fairly standard thriller/mystery, and I was very intrigued by the main plot--finding out what had happened to young Harriet Vanger so many years ago. I even liked the setting. In fact, I was ready to visit Northern Sweden, even in the cold of winter. It sounded lovely--never mind that every woman in the country is at risk for being locked up somewhere and tortured by the perverted, twisted men that apparently run all the big businesses and lawyer firms. So, since I had to find out about Harriet, I read on. The characters are decently interesting, though Blomkvist is a bit bland. The "girl" herself is okay, though husband Ben says she becomes too amazing by book 2. The setting is different, but you have to be ready for the gruesome details (which aren't actually too detailed). I won't be reading the next book, and I honestly don't get what all the fuss is about.
Now, I'm off on vacation, so inspite of my vow to quit buying books until the shelves are repaired, I've stuffed suitcases full of new books. Here's to happy beach reading, without all the hype.

Book signings

I went down to our local bookstore the other night to hear Dan Chaon read and I learned how to pronounce his name (It turns out it's shawn). That, of course, wasn't why I slammed down a burrito and ran out the door tossing out homework instructions and bathing advice to my children. I went because I couldn't get enough of Await Your Reply (which I've already raved about on this blog). My pilgrimmage was rewarded by hearing Chaon read a deleted scene that is included in the paperback edition of his novel. A deleted scene! I love it. And it added a tiny piece of the puzzle to a story that is nothing but puzzles. Plus there was another writer sharing the stage with Chaon, Emily St. Mandel, and she was charming, funny, relaxed, and I'll end up buying The Singer's Gun if not her first book, Last Night in Montreal.

But readings/signings are a bizarre little thing. It must be awkward for the writer. Writers tend to spend a lot of time by themselves, crafting sentences in the confines of their own minds and/or tiny rooms. Not always the best way to prep for public speaking. It can be weird for the host, too. What if no one shows up? A friend who worked as a liaison for writers at another small bookstore once spent a horrible few hours with a photographer who refused to talk to anyone who even looked as though they were coming near his signing table. He wouldn't even chitchat with her. He had a gorgeous book of photos of Paris but I guess the expression "it sells itself" doesn't always hold. If you really want to hear how hard it can be for even the most enthusiastic author, read David Sedaris on the subject of hawking a book at a Costco. It's probably better if the author has no ego.

And of course, it can be weird and fraught for the audience. I was at Dan Chaon with a friend who told me her embarrassing moment at a Steve Almond reading recently. She admits herself that she is just a bit overly obsessed with Steve Almond so you'd think she'd be pleased to be singled out by him at a reading. Uh, well, not if it's because she's stumbling in late (babysitter issues) to sit in the front row and not if it's because Almond (who is a very funny guy) decides to point this out in a helpful manner. Apparently he announced, "Well, if that isn't disruptive," as she slunk in across the creaky, old floor.

I once coughed my way through a reading by Susan Minot. And I don't mean a polite little cough into a delicate handkerchief. This was in college and I had developed one of those upper respiratory infections that someone with good insurance and maybe a mom's advice would have had looked at, but no, I felt I just had to go to this reading. Did I sit discreetly on the end of a row? Hell, no! I was a big fan! I sat in the very center of the crowd. I'm sure everyone, including Susan Minot hated me within five minutes, and probably still uses me as a negative example when they blog about author readings.

And of course it also turns out that there is such a thing as a stupid question and you'll hear a good many of them at readings. I heard someone ask why an author always used the same name for characters. Was this a special person in the author's life? Well, no, because it turned out the author had only used that name once and in only one book, so, um, wasn't really sure how to answer the self-proclaimed greatest fan's question. Sometimes you just get a lot of would-be writers in the audience who monopolize the author to glean tidbits of wisdom interesting only to their own narrow needs. And there are always people who ask for clarification of painfully obvious plot points. Still, it's worse if no one asks a question so at times, you just hope that some fan will come in clutching a well-worn book and announce that the work spoke directly to their soul. No, really, it did.

I don't get to as many readings as I would like. In fact, I'm missing Ann Beattie tonight and Beattie is a writer I greatly admired in college. She was the epitome of 80s short stories and who I wanted to be. I think it's even good to go to the no-namers, the locals. Yep, I saw Dan Brown before he was DAN BROWN because he's a local (or was, I should say). At the time, I mostly liked the cover of Angels and Demons and he worked right upstairs and we were kind of just filling the room. That night, I learned more than I'll ever need to know about the Masons, but I never did read his book(s).

I've seen authors who wouldn't shut up. I've seen authors who clearly need to update their jacket photos. Or maybe not. It's a bit like radio personalities. They have a voice and then there's their actual presence. It can be a bit jarring. Still, I wonder if they look out at us--dumb, adoring, bored, yearning--and think, My God, are these my readers?