It's holiday time again, a time when visions of dradles and pop-guns dance in children's heads. Or at least when video games burn out their eyes. For the more literate set, books are the stuff of gifts given and gifts hoped for. Have I mentioned that The First Tycoon and Jesse James make lovely gifts? I usually advise that people buy three copies of Tycoon: one to read, one to use as a footrest, and one to take to sea, in case your clipper ship needs more ballast.
This year I'm represented in the marketplace less by my own work, than by the blurbs I have given to others. Blurbs—promotional quotes—are the subject of universal cynicism by all but the authors who beg and plead for them from other authors. They are so universal that it would make a book look sorry indeed if no one had anything nice to say about it in advance. The late, lamented Spy magazine used to run a column called "Log-rolling In Our Time," showing how authors blurbed each other's books. The Simpsons had a bit, set at a writers' conference called "Wordloaf," in which Michael Chabon and Jonathan Franzen agree to praise each other, but one of them breaks his promise, and praises himself. Pretty funny, come to think about it...
But allow me to say a brief word in defense of the much-maligned blurb. I, for one, blurb only a small fraction of the books that are sent to me. That's because I only blurb books I've read. And I only blurb books I like. More than that, I am careful in my praise, so that I only blurb the aspects of the book that I feel uncomplicated admiration for. I can't imagine that I'm the only one who has such rules. Since I've started blurbing, I've actually developed more respect for the blurbs I read on others' books.
Yes, of course, I am more generous in blurbing than in reviewing. Reviewing is a critical exercise; blurbing is a commercial one, sending readers a simple message: they'll find a book worth their investment of time and money. And I am moved by collegiality: I sympathize and empathize with writers forced to frantically drum up blurbs, driven by the reality of publishing to engage in the very thing they wanted to avoid by becoming writers in the first place: marketing. But does any of this mean my promotional quotes are worthless? Not at all.
It's the season of peace and love, right? So cut the authors and their blurbers some slack. And give a book for Christmas or Hannukah, fer cryin' out loud. Buy it at your local independent bookstore, if you can, but buy.
This year I'm represented in the marketplace less by my own work, than by the blurbs I have given to others. Blurbs—promotional quotes—are the subject of universal cynicism by all but the authors who beg and plead for them from other authors. They are so universal that it would make a book look sorry indeed if no one had anything nice to say about it in advance. The late, lamented Spy magazine used to run a column called "Log-rolling In Our Time," showing how authors blurbed each other's books. The Simpsons had a bit, set at a writers' conference called "Wordloaf," in which Michael Chabon and Jonathan Franzen agree to praise each other, but one of them breaks his promise, and praises himself. Pretty funny, come to think about it...
But allow me to say a brief word in defense of the much-maligned blurb. I, for one, blurb only a small fraction of the books that are sent to me. That's because I only blurb books I've read. And I only blurb books I like. More than that, I am careful in my praise, so that I only blurb the aspects of the book that I feel uncomplicated admiration for. I can't imagine that I'm the only one who has such rules. Since I've started blurbing, I've actually developed more respect for the blurbs I read on others' books.
Yes, of course, I am more generous in blurbing than in reviewing. Reviewing is a critical exercise; blurbing is a commercial one, sending readers a simple message: they'll find a book worth their investment of time and money. And I am moved by collegiality: I sympathize and empathize with writers forced to frantically drum up blurbs, driven by the reality of publishing to engage in the very thing they wanted to avoid by becoming writers in the first place: marketing. But does any of this mean my promotional quotes are worthless? Not at all.
It's the season of peace and love, right? So cut the authors and their blurbers some slack. And give a book for Christmas or Hannukah, fer cryin' out loud. Buy it at your local independent bookstore, if you can, but buy.
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