An Embarrassment of Riches

I went into my local Barnes and Noble store today and while standing at the new releases section for history, I practically had an orgasm on the spot. I found seven books that I was dying to read and five that I was pretty interested in, and four that I found mildly interesting. I seem to be reading much more non-fiction these days. I don't know why. Maybe because I know what happens behind the curtain of fiction far too well. I know what levers Oz is pulling, so to speak.

Anyway, I took my smart phone and snapped a ton of pictures of covers of books that I must read at some point. What I am most excited about (and I bought a copy because I couldn't resist) was Myers' new book on the Borgias. I loved his book on the Tudors, and if there is a family that more interesting than the Tudors (a fairly high bar), it is the Borgias.

Stay tuned for the review

To be Fair...

Once again I point to John Scalzi's blog for a recap of what has happened at Random House as a result of the brouhaha over their new e-imprint line that contained what I personally considered an unethical contract. I want to say in all fairness that they seem to realize that they stumbled and stumbled badly, and now are addressing this stumble. Sclazi does a nice analysis of this new contract, and if you read further in his blog he comments on why he considers a no-advance contract problematic. Read further.

I can't speak for anyone else, but it's hard not to view this as a legitimate publisher who tried to cash in on their pretty damn respected legacy (I would be doing handsprings if I had a contract with them), using their name to establish a vanity press. And the masses have spoken and they have spoken back.

There were a couple of things that stood out for me during this, oh, let's call it an event. First of all, I do not have a contract with Random House, nor have I ever had any dealings with Random House. And yet when they announced their amended policies regarding the new e-imprint, I got an email from them announcing said amended policies. Interesting. Clearly someone did Google searches. Because let's face it. I'm obscure with a capital "O." How many people read this blog? Ten?

Second, although all the other major writing organizations in the country, Science Fiction Writers of America and Romance Writers of America to name two, commented publically in very strong language that this wasn't acceptable, I didn't see any comment from Mystery Writers of America. None.

Hmmm.

And the Drama Continues

I must thank John Scalzi for his wonderful posts and links to the current drama that is roiling Random House and it's attempts to capitalize on the self-publishing juggernaut. Except. Hmmm. Plain and simple, what Random House is proposing is, basically, that old-fashioned model for a vanity press.

Anyway, in response to Science Fiction Writers of America (SFWA)'s rejection of Random House's (RH) current publishing "model," Random House has actually answered Science Fiction Writers of America (SFWA) rejection of this model and SFWA has answered back. I certainly hope that MWA (Mystery Writers of America) has a similar point of view regarding RH's new imprint Alibi, because really, we need to stop this nonsense in its tracks.

I think that SFWA's letter states the crux of the issue quite nicely. I have NO problem with businesses that set themselves up as a self-publishing house. In this era, they are often the only portal for an author these days who twenty years would have been snapped up by a publisher without a second thought. But what RH is promoting isn't self-publishing. It's nothing short of being a vanity press and trading on its previously quite valued name as a publisher of note.

Way to tarnish your brand, dudes.

Signal Boost on Publishing Fail

It seems that after viewing e-publishing with a disdainful, leery eye that the mainstream publishers are finally realizing that like amazon, they mean to tap into the self-publishing cash cow. Random House has recently come out with three new e-imprints. Hydra for their sf/f line, Alibi for their mystery line, and Flirt for their "new adult" line, which I assume mean soft-core porn with words.

There are two excellent articles written by others that should pretty much give you a head's up on why considering this imprint is a bad idea. John Scalzi rips apart the Alibi contract in his recent column A Contract with Alibi. This is essentially a mini-primer on contract language and is worth reading just to understand what all that legal gobbledygook means. Also worth reading is Victoria Strauss's blog in the Writer Beware blog on the same subject, Second-Class Contracts? Deal Terms at Random House's Hydra Imprint. Pass these links along to other writers because this seems fairly evil to me, and the more people know about it, the better.

Now that I've completely scotched any chance of having a Random House publishing deal any time soon, I'd like to just say that I really don't understand why they are going to such lengths to alienate writers. Yes, the market is horrible. Yes, people can't get contracts. Yes, self-publishing is a last resort. But it's also a really easy resort. Seriously? Anyone with marginal computer savvy can put together a book in like, oh, twenty minutes from any of the more reputable self-publishing book companies out there. Amazon has entered into this venture with a vengeance (when do they do anything half-assed?) with their CreateSpace arm, and both Lulu and BookBaby can also set you up nicely. I think that BookBaby seems to have better covers the last time I checked out their site, but all of them offer professional services in terms of design, marketing, etc., for a price. So why would you go with Random House that strips you of all of your rights versus something like Bookbaby where you retain all your rights?

I guess they think that people are that desperate.

Book Review: Broken Harbor by Tana French

**SPOILERS CONTAINED WITHIN**

A key thing that usually sells me on a book is what I would call a book's "vernacular." That the reader feels that this book couldn't happen any place else. The dialogue and setting has both an originality and a sense of history about it. This masterful owning of a story is obvious within the first four pages of Broken Harbor by Tana French. I wrote in my last review of her previous novel, Faithful Place, that I would eagerly snatch up her next novel because I so loved the writing, even if I didn't love the book. And I find myself in the same place with Broken Harbor as I did with Faithful Place: in lovelovelove with the writing and less than pleased by the end of the book.

At this point I've nearly given up looking for books that ultimately hit all of my buttons, but this book falls shorts in some critical ways. But first, the good part. The dialogue is amazing. I'm no slouch at writing dialogue myself, and this woman blows me out of the water. Not only is it smart writing, but the dialogue rings true to each character. All the characters sounds unique.

French is equally masterful at descriptions. I live in California and we have had our own boom/bust times, with a similar fallout in the housing market. Not an hour from my house the wholesale bulldozing of orchards went at a fever pitch until it stopped when the house of financial cards finally collapsed. And bankruptcies and the foreclosures and all the fallout from the machinations of venal Wall Street, unscrupulous bankers, and unethical builders began. I understand this so well, although my wasteland is characterized by former farms and not a rundown beach town. French does a picture perfect job at creating this land of broken dreams.

There is a beautiful parallel story between Scorcher Kennedy and the Spains, and how control can be one's savior and one's damnation. I think this is my favorite under thread in the whole novel. I would say that this is another reason why the ending didn't work for me. Because when Kennedy ends up planting evidence as a manifestation of how his control has finally broken down--for good AND bad--we actually don't need this scene. His behavior in his final interview with Conor Brennan demonstrates all too well that this man has crossed over his personal line from which he can't return. This book is about people crossing over personal lines from which they can't retreat.

The plot in this book is rather thin. It's primarily a psychological drama with a murder thrown in to give it structure. That's why when the book breaks down in the last third. This breakdown is profound, because it all hinges on how much you buy the psychological trajectory of these characters. If you don't buy it, then the novel won't work for you, and ultimately it didn't work for me.

As with Faithful Place, Ms. French tries to be too clever. This ending is meant to shock, and it doesn't shock so much as left me scratching my head. What? As opposed to, wow, I never saw that coming. I really didn't see it coming, so much so that I didn't believe it. There have to be powerful reasons why a mother kills her children, and Ms. French did not set this up. Which is also part of the problem. There are far too many crazy people in this book. The evolution of Pat's craziness is done so well. SO WELL. This is part of French's attempt to aha us. Because his craziness is front and center, then we're supposed to be so surprised when Jenny craziness is even more profound than his. Except that aside from portraying Jenny as a shallow and materialistic, we don't understand the leap from shallow and materialistic to murderer. The novel goes out of its way to portray this couple as nice and decent. We sympathize with Pat. His craziness breaks our heart. Her craziness doesn't. And, in fact, it's inexplicable and it doesn't make sense. Also, it's totally unnecessary. The last quarter of the book is a mess and I really don't understand why.

One of the things you do as a writer is to pull part other writers' material. It's part of the learning process, and once you start pulling apart other people's writing, then you find you can't stop. This has had the effect of undermining my reading pleasure and when someone gets it right, it has enhanced it. So, I finished this book and my sigh of displeasure was loud, to be followed by a "why?" She could have easily had Pat kill the kids, which makes sense given that she's laid the groundwork for his crazy, and then have Jenny discover that he killed the kids and she kills him. Conor races into the house, and Jenny asks him to kill her because she can't live with the fact that her children are dead at their crazy father's hand and it's her fault because in her manic determination to keep up appearances, she ignored Pat's decline into madness even as she saw it happen. THAT makes sense. Jenny's long-winded (it went on forever) explanation of that night left me cold and perplexed. And why didn't Kennedy obtain a warrant and be miked so that they could all hear her confession? Because then we wouldn't have had all this drama with the planting of the bracelet. Not only does this not make sense because a woman in her pajamas is NOT going to be wearing a charm bracelet, ahem, it's unnecessary. I can only surmise that French thought we needed a scene where we understand that Kennedy has crossed a line that he never thought he would cross. But we don't need this as an example of Kennedy's personal aha moment; that happened in his final interview with Conor Brennan

Psychological profiles in a psychological thriller have to be pristine. By that I mean the psychology of the characters IS the plot. If there is a glitch in the psychology, then the novel falls apart. Or doesn't work. It's too harsh for me to say that this novel fell apart. The writing here is gorgeous. I envy her so much. But ultimately the novel doesn't work because the psychology doesn't work, and I find myself in the same place I was a year ago: hoping that her next novel will be that perfect book that I know she can write.

Book Review: Tiny Beautiful Things

Life right now is, um, very challenging. I'm not going into details but suffice it to say, fucking hell. As is my wont, when life is pelting you with lemons, I retreat into the world of books. This has always been my refuge, and I suspect it always will be. I usually pick up Jane Austen when confronted with devastating life suckage, but I picked up this little gem instead. Hey, I has graphics!

I've been following "Dear Sugar" on the rumpus.net for many months. I can't give you an assessment of her recent success as the author of "Wild" as I haven't read it. All I can say is that "Tiny Beautiful Things" is a wonderful, wonderful book. Sure, this contains excerpts from her advice column as "Sugar," but to dismiss this as  "merely" excerpts from her advice column is to be nothing short of pedantic and snotty. For the writers who follow this blog, there are several letters that deal with writing and being a writer and what this means and what it SHOULD mean. This ALONE is worth buying this book. For others, revel in her writing. I did. She's the real deal. I loved her column, and I love this book. Highly recommended.

Sign and Damn

This is going to be another tough year. I feel it in my bones. I'm not going to get all personal here, but monumental changes are ahead.

On the writing front. I lost steam on that Pride and Prejudice pastiche, mainly because I formatted my way into a logistical hole that defeated me. I've heard from the book publisher that I contracted with that they can now format the book the way I want it formatted, so now I must shove my ass in gear and recontact them to get it up and out there. I'm very, VERY bad at the back end of the publishing front, and this is largely about confronting and dealing with minutia. I fail at minutia.

On the writing front: I am pounding out what I think will be an alternative take on a mystery. It's typically me. Snarky, funny, and little bitchy, and not too challenging mentally. I'm constantly torn between doing something that I can pound out and yet feeling that I could, if I really wanted to,  actually produce something big. Is this self-delusion at it's most delusional form? Perhaps. But. I honestly believe I'm capable of a bigger book. But bigger books take time. And much more effort. I have very little time. Working full-time is really sucky, but also this job now requires tons of editing and dredging up anything that is half-intelligent sounding at the end of a day editing engineering is almost impossible. Some of the stuff I edit I think, wow, this guy could get a Noble Prize. It's THAT sort of material. Which leaves me brain dead. And yet. I think I could write a bigger book.

Baby steps. (1) get Austen pastiche self-published; (2) get bitchy alternative mystery published; and (3) Think. Think. Think.