Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room

Hail and Farewell

Jeff Cohen

So that was it. We hope you liked it.

This is the 3464th post on HEY THERE'S A DEAD GUY IN THE LIVING ROOM, and unless someone else parachutes in and decides to add some thoughts, it is the last. We've had quite a good run here but it's time to shut off the lights and lock the doors before we stop saying anything anyone wants to hear.

For me DEAD GUY has been any number of things. It started when Deni Dietz and I defected from Murderati a long, long time ago and thought we'd start our own blog, but we didn't want to examine crime fiction strictly from an author's point of view. So we recruited editors, publishers, readers, librarians, reviewers, agents and booksellers, among others, to provide perspective we as writers couldn't offer. 

I'll continue to post blogs every now and again (look next Tuesday for sure) and hope you'll look for those moments, but as for DEAD GUY, this is the end of the line, and that's because we have all agreed it's better to go out while we're still wanted and not overstay our welcome.

But it wasn't all about publishing. The rule among us at DEAD GUY was that there were no rules. If you wanted to post about your section of the crime fiction world, great. If not, go for it. I have personally posted about digitizing my vinyl record collection, interviewed my daughter, had my dog write a guest post, talked about my health issues (ad nauseam), ranted about having to master barre chords, introduced a pseudonym, shamelessly promoted my work, bragged about blurbs, discussed the importance of making attractive letters when filling in a crossword puzzle, mentioned comedians I especially admire and occasionally made dives into such popular subjects as religion and politics. I recall once explaining how to deal with the atheist on your Christmas card list.

This blog has been more than a simple repository for my random thoughts. I've made good friends here. I've managed to blow off steam or express emotional truths when I had to. It served as a steam valve when I needed it. And a couple of times it served to let me write silly song lyrics. 

The most gratifying part of the weekly post was to connect with those who decided to visit us here. Hearing from readers and other writers, among many others, was a great comfort and sometimes an ego stroke when it was most needed. Writers write because we want to communicate something. Knowing that people were taking notice was a very large help at times.

For me the schedule forced me to write whether I had a great idea in mind or not. Some of my favorite posts were those that came when I was backed against a deadline wall. 

Everyone who has ever posted here will tell you that coming up with a post every week could be a trial. It's not easy to keep going and not repeat oneself. There have been nights that I've sat here looking at a blank screen for an hour wondering what would appear on the blog page at 12:00 a.m. that Monday. The closest I've ever come to believing in "Writer's Block" has been related to these posts. But I still don't believe.

The people with whom I've been part of DEAD GUY are amazing, smart, funny, warm and dedicated. I am grateful and honored to have been associated with each and all of them. I won't mention all the names here because I'm certain to forget some and that would bother me deeply even if it wouldn't rankle those I failed to cite. But assume if you've read a post here and it wasn't one of mine that it was written by someone I admire greatly, someone who inspires awe in me. I thank each of them. 

For those who have chosen to check in here every day or every week or once a year, we can't possibly thank you enough. It has been wonderful being part of your lives. Don't mourn the DEAD GUY. We stopped because we didn't want to disappoint you. You deserve our best. We hope we've given it to you. Thanks for everything.

 

 

Oh. And pitchers and catchers report in 44 days.

Angry Giraffe and Friends

Jessy Randall

The United States is making so many mistakes right now. I can't get used to it, and I don't think we should get used to it. I can't believe how stupid we are, despite all the proofs of our stupidity flying at my face every day.

I'm surprised at how much my political animals project is cheering me up. I know these cartoons don't really accomplish anything. Or anyway they don't accomplish anything big. But they make me feel like I'm doing something, even something tiny, and I encourage you all to send me animal drawings so you can maybe feel the same way. 300 dpi jpegs are ideal, but I can work with whatever you send. You do the drawing and I add the words. Email me at jessyrandall [ayat] yahoo [duh] com.

Examples (so far) are at Maudlin House, Cahoodaloodaling, and Ohio Edit.

The Year That Wasn't, In Advance

Jeff Cohen

Wow. 2017. Won't be sorry to see this year go, will we?

It's December, and you know what that means! (No, DON'T cue the Christmas music.) That's right: This is the last month of new DEAD GUY posts. And while we're still processing the end of our favorite crime fiction blog, we are seeing some light at the end of the tunnel.

I'll be discussing my own blogging plans before we go, but given that there won't be DEAD GUY next year, I thought I'd give you a look at what I would have been saying if I were still the regular Monday blogger here. So here are things I most likely would have posted here in 2018:

There's no such thing as writer's block. Stop it.

Hey! THE HOSTESS WITH THE GHOSTESS came out January 9! Here are all the reasons you should buy it! (And the places you could have pre-ordered it...)

Think about your characters first. Your plot serves your characters; it's not the other way around.

It snowed here this week. The first person who tells me how beautiful and fun snow is will be obligated to come to my house and shovel the driveway.

It's been a year since I began chemo. I'm doing much better now (insert picture of me with hair).

Here are my picks for the short subject Academy Awards...

Can you believe that thing he said yesterday????

Baseball season starts this week. Do not try to contact me on opening day. I will not be available.

My lovely wife and I are taking 10 days and driving the Pacific Coast Highway from San Diego to San Francisco (and a little beyond). Here are some photographs!

The only way you can pull yourself up by your bootstraps is if you're hanging by your feet. (An oldie but a goodie.)

How do you add humor to mystery? You don't. The humor has to come naturally from the situation and not layered on like frosting.

BIRD, BATH AND BEYOND, the second Agent to the Paws mystery, is coming out (fill in release date)! Here are 10 reasons you should buy it!

After what happened this week, what else can I possibly post about?

Yeah, I don't watch GAME OF THRONES. So the hype is a little irritating.

THE QUESTION OF THE DEAD MISTRESS is being published this week (hi, Terri!)! Here are five reasons you should buy it (but they're really good reasons)!

That was a heck of a World Series, wasn't it?

Isn't it time to rename the New Testament (another from the archives)?

In the wake of recent events, I'd like to point out that I'm not that kind of a man and neither are most of the ones I know.

Yeah, Thanksgiving. Great food, but just a harbinger of the "holiday season" and who needs that?

Stop with the Christmas music. Seriously. I get that there are a LOT of Gentiles, but this goes beyond the pale.

Wow. 2018. Won't be sorry to see THAT year go, will we?

 

Pitchers and catchers report in 71 days.

An Open Letter

Jeff Cohen

Dear All Women:

No. Not every guy is a sexual predator or an unbelievable jerk who believes he is entitled to belittle, humiliate, revolt and violate you because he's a man and you're not. It's not normal, it should NEVER be accepted and it is not pervasive to the gender. Most men are not like that, but there are an awful lot of men and an awfuller lot of them, more than most guys ever imagined, are that bad.

What the rest of us want you to know is that those men disgust us. They anger us. They make us want to walk door-to-door and apologize for their behavior to every woman on the planet. Do some of us act as enablers by saying nothing and doing nothing when we hear of or witness this reprehensible behavior? Alas, some of us do. Those guys piss off the rest of us, too. 

The stories that have been coming out for the past month or two have astonished those of us who are appalled by what we've heard. It's the number of them. We knew such things happened but because we didn't engage in such disgusting behavior we never realized the scope of it. We like to tell ourselves we would have done something if we'd known what was going on. And some of us would have. But others would not, and do not. And until it happens in our sphere of experience, we don't really know which type we're going to be.

We apologize for that, too. We should have had your backs. I promise you we'll try to do better.

The #MeToo posts we've seen have knocked us for a loop. We knew this kind of thing went on and we've heard rumors for years about some of the famous names who have been mentioned lately. But the breadth of it, the fact that it seemed to be commonplace, that's what surprised men. I suppose it shouldn't have, but enough women have been intimidated into keeping silent and we haven't heard about as many of the incidents as we should have.

So on behalf of the men left who are like me in this regard, I'd like to make you a few promises. First, we sincerely hope nothing of this nature ever happens to any of you again. Seriously, not one. But since that appears to be unfortunately unrealistic, we want you to know you can talk to us. Tell us what happened. We'll bear witness for you. We'll stand behind you when you tell your story. We will not look the other way, we will not let others call you liars and we will believe you. 

We promise not to hear other men tell these horrific stories and laugh them off as "boys will be boys." This is not normal or acceptable behavior. We won't allow it to cross the line into  something that "always happens" and therefore shouldn't be roundly condemned. 

We pledge to listen to you when you speak out, not to try to defend your attackers because they've always been okay to us. We promise not to dismiss you as someone trying to "get something out of it" because you name the names of the men who have abused you verbally or physically. We know you're taking an incredibly difficult step and we will not belittle it. We will applaud your courage and do all we can to remove these men from positions of power. 

We will try very hard to understand the awful experience you've been forced to have. We will not see you as lesser than we did before. We will definitely not suggest that you were "asking for it" based on your wardrobe. Clothes don't make it okay to treat you so badly. We know that. We will not suggest you secretly wanted this to happen. That's ludicrous. We know it's not true.

We promise to hear your suggestions about how you think we should act when we hear of these terrible incidents. We will not "mansplain" such actions away. We want to hear from you. We want to help when we can. We want to definitely not hurt through our own actions.

And, most of all, we swear to you that we will do our best not to be the problem. We will never treat you like that. Not under any circumstances. Never.

Because most men aren't like that.

 

Colorado College's Own Harvey Weinstein

Jessy Randall

When I accepted a position as Colorado College archivist in 2001, many small mysteries awaited me: had Mathias Hall been designed by prison architects? (No.) What happened to the statue of Winged Victory in the old Coburn Library? (Nobody knows, but I suspect it broke into a million pieces during the library move.) And ...

Why was William F. Slocum pushed out of the CC presidency in 1917? Was it because of financial improprieties? Was it because of a rivalry with some of the faculty at the time? Or was it because he was a serial sexual harasser before that term existed?

The answers may lie in the James Hutchinson Kerr Papers at CC Special Collections, which contain copies of some of the women's statements against Slocum. When the Harvey Weinstein story broke this month and people at the college got curious about Slocum, I wanted to make it easier for researchers to find the women's statements, which until now have not been the main focus of any scholarly activity around the Slocum story:

https://libraryweb.coloradocollege.edu/library/specialcollections/Manuscript/Slocum.html

Over the years, students have occasionally floated the idea that campus dormitory Slocum Hall should be renamed. I have a nice long list of potential new names if this idea gets any traction.

 

This Has Got to Be Offensive to SOMEBODY...

Jeff Cohen

A couple of days ago I named a gay couple Adam and Steve.

I was going to add, "I couldn't help it," but let's be honest. I could have chosen not to do that because it might offend gay people. It might offend people who think gay people shouldn't be married. It might offend those who despise cliches. But I went right the heck ahead and did it anyway.

I'm just starting a new novel (Guesthouse #10!) and this is the time when invention is at its most rampant. The writer has to start from scratch, or in the case of a series novel, close to it, and create a whole story with fleshed-out people who have real challenges to overcome. Names are assigned. Character traits become evident. There's a plot and stuff to work out.

Sometimes there is the temptation to indulge oneself and I will cop to doing that every now and again. While Faulkner (or any one of 16,000 other authors misquoted) said, "In writing you must kill all your darlings," the fact is you should only kill most of them. Some are worth keeping. 

This one began because I have a daughter named Eve. And she's an adult now but believe it or not she wasn't always. A good number of years ago we were talking and I asked if, hypothetically, she were to--in the future--meet a nice guy named Adam who asked her out on a date. Would she accept?

She took a moment and looked at me. "I'd really have to think about it," she said.

It occurred to me the same was true for a gay man named Steve. And since I was writing the couple from the start and could address the issue in their relationship, I decided to plug the names in and see if I liked them. I'm only six pages into the book so there's no verdict yet, but don't be surprised if they make the cut.

What this comes to is whether a writer needs to be completely circumspect about his/her beliefs. I have tried to stay on the sidelines politically and have failed miserably, to the point that I don't really try at all anymore. I understand this alienates a percentage of my potential readership and I'm not happy about that. But I also believe that everyone--even a writer--has the right to have and express an opinion, and I have some I wish to express.

I have been mostly quiet on the topic of religion because I truly am committed to the idea that everyone (including atheists) is entitled to believe as he or she is inclined. But sometimes that sneaks out too because I'm more offended by unfairness than anything else and I see a good deal of inequity in the discussion. I'll leave it at that.

Naming the two men Adam and Steve, then, was a fairly ham handed attempt at tweaking those I see as on the wrong side of the issue. I think bigots need to know they're being bigots and if it makes them uncomfortable, well, then I've had a good day. 

But it's also a fun small plot detail to use and that's really the point in what I write. I'm not expecting to change anyone's mind about anything ever. I do hope that everyone will read the work and find it entertaining. If it makes them think about something in a way they didn't before, well, where's the harm in that?

What do you think? Should I keep the names?

A Hair-Raising Gallery, in Sequence

Jeff Cohen

 

Getting there.

Don't Be Sad... It's Just a Blog

First: Our most fervent hopes that everyone in the path of the recent terrible storms is okay and that life will return to normal soon.

But now a bittersweet announcement: Every day here at DEAD GUY we try to bring you something that can add to your day. Most often that something has to do with crime fiction publishing, as our lineup of bloggers has been constructed to know about that category. And over the past 10 we have done our best to provide every possible viewpoint on the subject.

But, as they say, whoever they are, all good things (and the rotten ones too, truth be known) must come to an end. 

As much as we've all loved being DEAD GUY bloggers, we've agreed it's time to close the proverbial doors around here. Coming up with useful, entertaining content every day has gotten to be a little too much after all this time and we want to go out while we're still at the top of our game. 

So the December 31 post will be the last one here at DEAD GUY. While it's a little sad to think this is coming to a close, we prefer to focus on the idea that we've done good work here, people have enjoyed it, and we've kept it going since January 2007, which ain't bad. 

The cast of characters has changed over the years, but never the mission: To provide perspective on writing, publishing, reading, editing, promoting and enjoying books, mostly in the crime fiction area. We're all still committed to that concept and we'll keep expressing our opinions when we feel they're relevant. Just not here at DEAD GUY after 2017 becomes 2018. 

In the ensuing months, please know we'll keep posting as we have before, so don't tune us out of your daily web scan just yet. And along the way, we'll be hearing from some DEAD GUY alums who have graciously agreed to come back for one more visit before the lights are put out and we group-hug our way to the end of the Mary Tyler Moore Show. 

Keep reading. That's what this has always been about.

Back By Popular Indifference: How To Tell If You're a Nazi

Jeff Cohen

Since the horrific events that took place in Charlottesville, VA (a lovely town I have enjoyed visiting a number of times) we've seen a rather baffling trend: People (let's face it, men) who marched in that demonstration complaining loudly on the internet that because their pictures have been circulating showing them carrying torches and screaming under various disgusting banners, everyone now believes they are Nazis.

Thats because you are, dude.

What this puzzling phenomenon indicates is that there are people (yeah, men) out there who honestly don't know whether or not they are Nazis, white supremacists, racists, anti-Semites, Confederate apologists or, just for emphasis, Nazis. So I'm here today, breaking from the crime fiction tradition, to try and offer some assistance.

10 Ways to Tell if You're a Nazi

1. If you're marching during a white power rally, there's a pretty decent chance you're a Nazi.
2. If the swell fellas you're marching with are wearing swastikas, you need to assume you're a Nazi.
3. If at any point you scream out the word,"Jew" for any other reason than to invite someone to a seder, yes, you are.
4. Look to your left. Look to your right. Are the men on either side wearing khakis and white polo shirts and carrying tiki torches? Bingo, my friend. You're a Nazi or the best LL Bean sales rep in history.
5. Have you shown up to "protest the removal of a Confederate monument?" You might not be a Nazi. You might only be a racist. That's bad too, in case you're wondering.
6. If your only quarrel with our current president is that his daughter married a Jewish man, stop reading now. You're a Nazi.
7. Everyone you're marching with is male? It's possible you're not a Nazi, but the smart money is betting you are.
8. You've come to a "peaceful protest" carrying six firearms and a hunting knife? Maybe you're a Nazi and maybe you're not, but I don't want to hang around with you.
9. You thought the problem with The Producers was we didn't get to see the rest of Springtime For Hitler? Check yes off on the card next to "Nazi."
10. If you think anyone who isn't exactly like you is inferior, remember that Indiana Jones was a white dude and he said, "Nazis. I hate these guys."

Just in case you looked this over and suddenly realized, "Oh, no! I'm a Nazi!", don't worry. The one thing about being a Nazi that's good is that you can stop anytime you like. Take this opportunity to reconsider your choices, you alliances and your beliefs about ethnic groups. By this time tomorrow you could easily NOT be a Nazi!

The events in Charlottesville were deplorable (to coin a term) and inexcusable. The ideas being espoused there were equally awful and need to be addressed and condemned by everyone. Everyone. The best disinfectant, it is said, is sunlight. Good. Let's shed some light on these misguided, uninformed, angry humans who have chosen the worst possible outlet for their frustration. Evil is something that is cultivated. We need to stop this evil before it grows any larger.

Next week, no more Nazis or preaching. But I needed to say it.

What to do, what to do?

Terri Bischoff

 

I almost always have difficulty finding a blog subject but today the reason why is a little different. Today I'm feeling the weight of the terrible things happening in our country. Blogging feels a little silly, you know? In the big picture does it really matter when a writer of literature disses genre fiction? That has been going on forever, so it's not that huge of a deal. Does it really matter that I'm a little bit behind on work? Not really. I somehow manage to fit it all in by the time various deadlines come. These things seem to trivial when our country is unraveling. It just a scary time, plain and simple. So, what to do?

I'm serious in that question. How do we cope with all hate and negative rhetoric that is out there? We can log off of facebook, and all other social media, for a while. We can turn on itunes and read a book. We can color, meditate, and do yoga. Those are all good things. I think they are things we should all do on a regular basis. But at some point we have to join society again. How do we do that? How do we work for peace and equality without becoming overwhelmed with the enormity of the task. I don't know. I feel like I am being a bad citizen yet I'm also feeling sad, and battered, and scared. I can put my head in the sand. I can pretend that all is fine and normal. I'm only a woman and a lesbian after all, I have a certain amount of privilege. That makes me a little sick to my stomach. That I could just float along like a ghost ignoring all the turmoil around me. But I don't have the answer. I don't know what I can do when I am struggling so hard just to get through my own personal battles.

What to do? I mutter this to myself more often than I would like to admit, somehow hoping that somewhere in my brain I have the answers. I know how to set things right in my life and in my world. What to do, what to do? I don't have the answers. But I have always leaned on my family, both biological and chosen, to help me navigate life's twists and turns. What are you doing? I don't ask that as a challenge - I ask it as a sincere question - how are you coping with our current political climate and affairs? What do you do with your worries and concerns? How do you make through the day without feeling weighed down?

What to do, what to do? 

My days in the sun

Yes, thanks for asking, I had a lovely time. It was only a couple of days, but a very pleasant interlude. Enjoyed meals I didn't have to cook or clear away, relived my not-especially-misspent youth (though my mother would probably dispute that) as we watched a show based on 1960s music, relaxed in the spa in 90 degrees of heat to acclimatize myself for next week's French sunshine, and, most important of all, read two books.

And as of a week on Sunday, while my good friend Chris Nickson fills this slot, for which I'm very grateful, I'll be doing much the same in France. No spa, and I'll probably be responsible for some of the meals, but somehow even food shopping is more fun when the product labels and deli choices are in a different language. And there are plenty of restaurants within walking distance as well. I'll try not to go AWOL next Thursday, but if I do, please forgive me; I'll be packing, and finishing up those last-minute jobs I'd rather not come home to after two weeks of doing nothing in particular.

So, since I'm off to France, I thought I'd offer my loyal reader(s) a taste of it as well, in book form. I'm not a fan of translated fiction, so both series I'm about to highlight are written in English – but both authors clearly know their chosen corners of France so well, and are such ardent Francophiles, that reading their books is almost as good as visiting for myself. Which I may very well do, another year.

The first is Martin Walker's wonderful Bruno series. Bruno is chief of police in a small, bustling village in the Dordogne. He's a typical country policeman who would rather hunt for truffles than solve crime, but it turns out he's much better at the solving crime part than many of the city types who get involved in his cases. He's also a great cook; I'm sure I've mentioned his method of cooking steak in previous posts. He puts it on the barbecue and sings a verse of the Marseillaise, turns it over and sings it again. He runs the local kids' football team, turns a blind eye when it comes to some of the more drastic health and safety legislation imposed on local food producers, and knows exactly where to go for the best wine.

The second is Peter May's Enzo McLeod series. Enzo is a forensic expert whose day job is running a university department in Toulouse, but somehow he keeps getting entangled in mysteries in other parts of France. He lives close to Cahors, which is one of my favourite French cities, not least because the best red wine in the world is made around there.

Both Bruno and Enzo are great characters with complex personal lives and backstories. I won't go into detail; I'll leave all that for you to discover. And if you make that discovery in the next few weeks, spare me a thought. I may be here as usual next Thursday, but if I'm not – see you in September.

maybe a way forward

Jessy Randall

My friend, political scientist Kris Kanthak, delivered this sermon at a Unitarian Church in Pittsburgh this past Sunday. I felt better after reading it and feel like maybe there's a way forward in the U.S. after all.

*******************

I am a political science professor. For over 20 years now, I have been studying the American political system. And from that vantage point, I can tell you that things are actually crazier right now than you probably think they are. Congress is more divided than it ever has been before, and that includes the period just before the Civil War. People are more divided than they ever have been before: Political scientists have recently created a concept called “negative partisanship,” which is tied to the fact that people define themselves more by the party they are NOT than the party they are. Being NOT a Republican, in other words, is a more powerful part of many people’s identity than BEING a Democrat. The number of people who say they prefer their children not marry outside their race is at an all-time low, but the number of people who say they prefer their children not marry outside their political party is at an all-time high.

So what can I tell you as a political scientist about the state of our political system that you don’t already know? And many of you may be thinking that the phrase “political scientist” may be a misnomer. Can you really have a science of politics at all? My position is, yes, which shouldn’t be surprising since the existence of political science is pretty important to my ability to keep my job as a political scientist. But I’d like to ask you to think about the world as a political scientist for a few minutes and see where it takes us. 

--

For the most part, as a political scientist, I build theoretical models of how the political world works. I start from an assumption and see where the logic of that assumption leads me. For example, here’s an assumption: Politicians want to keep their jobs. Now politicians want lots of things, so this is a simplifying assumption, but it is a good one because the other things politicians want (power, a better job, good public policy) require politicians to keep their jobs. So how can that assumption help us to understand the world around us? 

Let’s take a fact that has been in the news of late: Senator Pat Toomey is a part of a small group of Senators who have been working privately on legislation to repeal and replace Obamacare. He has been under a great deal of pressure to hold a town hall meeting, an open forum where constituents can tell him what they think of this idea. He has resisted that pressure. Why? One possible theory falls from the assumption that Pat Toomey is just a jerk. He isn’t holding a town hall meeting because he is a jerk. I have no evidence to refute that theory.

But I would pose an alternate hypothesis: Holding a town hall meeting won’t help Pat Toomey keep his job and it may make it harder for Toomey to keep his job. If he holds a town hall, a bunch of people who don’t like him will come and yell at him. This will make for good television. It will be played over and over again and will make him look bad to people who may otherwise vote for him in his next election. And no one will be MORE likely to vote for him because he held a town hall.

So in other words, holding a town hall may increase the chances that Toomey loses his job and it will be totally not fun for Pat Toomey. So one theory is “Pat Toomey is a jerk who wants to keep his job,” but another theory is “Pat Toomey wants to keep his job.” Scientists prefer parsimonious theories to overly complicated ones, so the simpler theory is, in my view, better. Maybe he’s a jerk, but he doesn’t need to be to be a jerk to be the kind of senator who won’t hold town hall meetings on Obamacare.

Now, you may think you don’t care if Toomey loses his job and he should hold the dang town hall anyway because that’s his job, but think about this: When was the last time you did something at work that both wasn’t fun and increased the chances of your losing your job? Plus, if you had a job where doing one of the functions of the job made it more likely that you lose that job, is that a problem with you or with the job? 

And then you may think, oh, term limits are the answer because then Pat Toomey won’t have a job he wants to keep. That’s fine, but it is also pretty likely that he wants A job once he is term-limited out of the one he has, and we can follow the implications of that theory to mean that if voters can’t give him that job, he will listen to the people who can: lobbyists, his political party, etc. So it makes logical sense that term limits aren’t a good way to make politicians more responsive to their constituents because it falls directly from the assumption that politicians want A job and if you don’t let them keep the one they have, they will try for another one (Being an ex-president is a pretty good job in and of itself, by they way, so term limits work OK for them).

So we can see here that the assumption “politicians want to keep their jobs” gives us some pretty good traction for understanding why our current political system works the way it does.

--

This last year, the University of Pittsburgh not only allowed me, but encouraged and supported me to engage in an experiment on the effects of political dialogue: I would take a small sub-group of students from my Introduction to American Politics large lecture class and ask them to talk one-on-one about their views on American politics. Now, these students were selected on the basis of race, gender, partisanship, socio-economic status and other factors to be diverse as possible. The theory is, if you get a diverse group of people together to talk – really talk and really listen – about what divides them politically, you may get some traction on helping people to understand that what binds us together is more powerful than what divides us. 

For example, we Americans, 240 years ago last Tuesday, decided to go in together on an experiment in democracy based on one particular assumption: All men are created equal. Now, that assumption is non-falsifiable: I can’t prove that it is true, but I can’t prove that it is false, either. But it is the basis for our democratic government and I would argue that the history of the United States is the history of us working out the implications of that simple assumption. Is the assumption that All men are created equal compatible with the institution of slavery? No, so the 13th Amendment to the Constitution got rid of it. Is the assumption that all men are created equal compatible with the idea that we should define “men” based solely on their sex or gender identity? No, so we passed the 19th Amendment to the Constitution giving women the right to vote. And the debate continues today as to what that assumption means for public accommodations for people who are trans or non-binary. So “All men are created equal” is a powerful assumption that we have made as a group, and it continues to be our touchstone, from the Gettysburg Address to Martin Luther King’s I Have A Dream speech. It is an assumption with powerful, complicated, and controversial implications and our nation’s history is a struggle for working out those implications. All men are created equal.

So to properly test the theory that inter-group dialogue can have great benefits, I again have to start with an assumption. And in this case, it was an assumption I asked all the students in the dialogue to share with me. It wouldn’t work if we couldn’t share this assumption. The assumption was both simple and profound: We are all trying our best.

At first it sounds like nursery school pablum and really obvious that we should just give people the benefit of the doubt. But assuming people are trying their best can be really, incredibly hard. I now drive my husband crazy when we are in traffic and some idiot cuts him off. I interrupt his anger and the poor guy responds “I know, I know. We’re all trying our best.” The guy who cuts you off in traffic and then gives you the finger is trying his best. It doesn’t mean you have to be his friend and it doesn’t even mean he doesn’t have to live with the consequences of his actions. But you choose not to decide he is an awful person because of his poor behavior.

In inter-group dialogue, assuming that others are trying their best means that you have to listen to stuff you might otherwise not want to hear. It means that when I share something with you about my reality, you will use that information to try and understand me and relate to me, rather than to correct me and decide my views have no value. It means that when someone says something truly outrageous – even racist or sexist – you need to take a deep breath and remind yourself that the person is trying his or her best.

But if you are in my inter-group dialogue class, you get the benefit of that same assumption. So you can counter the outrageous statement. You can say you were offended and you can say why. And the other person is obliged to hear you out under the assumption that you, too, are trying your best.

But here’s where it gets harder: Think of the person you dislike the most in the world. Now assume that person is trying their best. Pat Toomey is trying his best. Nancy Pelosi is trying her best. Paul Ryan is trying his best. Donald Trump is trying his best.

--

I know what many of you may be thinking: Your assumption that people are doing their best is just plain wrong. Some people are just awful and they need to clean up their acts.

So what if my assumption is wrong? What if people are not trying their best? What if they’re just jerks? What if they are irredeemable? What if they are not even human? 

As a scientist, I have to admit: If my baseline assumption is wrong, everything that follows from that assumption is probably wrong, too. Ptolemy believed that the earth was at the center of the universe and he built a model of celestial movement around that assumption. It was wrong. 

But here’s the thing: Ptolemy did a lot of really excellent work based on that wrong assumption. Working through the implications of the assumption of a geocentric universe was what led us to learn a lot about how the universe works. We got closer to the truth because Ptolemy held fast to that wrong assumption that he honestly believed was right. So wrong assumptions can be valuable. You don’t have to be absolutely convinced that people really are trying their best to believe that it is valuable to make that assumption regardless.

Those of you who have dabbled in meditation may be aware of the loving kindness meditation. You start by thinking about a person you love, and sending them good and kind thoughts. You wish them well, and that feels great. But you end with choosing a person you don’t like and sending them good and kind thoughts. You wish your enemy well. “May you be happy, May you be healthy. May you be safe. May you be at peace.”

Now I can tell you from experience that it is HARD to do a loving kindness meditation and wish good things on a person you don’t like. And I should note that I don’t actually believe that sending good thoughts to people really does make that person feel better. But you know who feels better? Me. 

The same thing is true from assuming that someone you don’t like is doing their best. Reserving the assumption that someone is trying her best only for those people who deserve it misses the point of the exercise. You need to assume the best in people who don’t deserve it. Again, you don’t have to be their friend. You don’t have to work with them and you sure as heck don’t have to vote for them for president. But if you want to take the assumption seriously, you need to offer it to everyone, not just the people who you think deserve it. In fact, you especially need to offer it to the people who don’t deserve it because they are the ones you understand the least and therefore they are the ones from whom you can learn the most.

--

So here’s something that is true about me and I’m telling you this because I’m hoping you will believe that I am up here doing my best. Here’s my truth: I am mad. I was all ready to get to celebrate having the first woman president and instead I got a guy who can’t stop tweeting sexist stuff about Mika Brzezinski. I’m mad. I’m mad at Trump and I’m mad at the people who voted for him. I’m mad because I think they turned their backs on the concept of “All men are created equal” to give power to a bazillionaire who literally brags about the size of his penis. I’m mad and I really, really want to stop at just being mad. It would be so easy to stop at anger. I could stop at anger and never have to get up from my couch. Plus, I would get to feel self-righteous, which is my absolute favorite thing to do.

The Declaration of Independence that starts with “All men are created equal” ends the following way: “And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.” It’s fine to be mad. I can’t decide that I’m not allowed to be mad, because being mad is part of me doing my best. But I am mutually pledged to every single Trump voter out there, whether they know it or not, and whether I respect it or not. The day after the election, a Trump-supporting student in my inter-group dialogue class came into the dialogue looking as shell-shocked as anyone. “I just wanted to stick it to Wall Street,” he said. “I didn’t want people to be scared. I’m sad that people are scared.”

Now I completely acknowledge that I have tons of privilege in this society, and so that privilege may be linked to my ability to believe that everyone is doing their best. My privilege allows me to look at a student who should’ve KNOWN people would be scared and see a person who needs to be told that people are scared. I need to share that with him. I understand that it is much easier for me to believe that everyone is doing their best than it is for many of you. Many of you are angrier than I am, and you have an absolute right to be angrier than me. I have no right to say you must drop your anger at the foot of some belief that people who do awful things, people who tweet awful things, are doing their best. If you can’t make that assumption, if you aren’t there yet, if you will never be there, that’s OK. I have the privilege to be able to make that assumption, and if you do to, I think you should. All I want from you, and all I believe in my heart and my soul you are giving me, is your best. I’m mutually pledged to you. I have no choice.

 

Kris Kanthak is an associate professor of political science at the University of Pittsburgh.

Burning Buildings, Broken Windows and My Dad

Jeff Cohen

I posted the following on Facebook earlier this week and it got enough of a response that I thought I might let my DEAD GUY friends see it as well. It's true, as well as I can remember, and it is meant to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the beginning of a violent moment in the history of Newark, New Jersey from which the city has still not completely recovered. I will not debate the politics of that moment, which some call riots and others a rebellion, as I was nine years old at the time and not exactly a savvy observer of social issues. This is a personal story, and it's related as well as I can given that a half-century has gone by since it happened.

I've done a little revising.

Fifty years after the violence in Newark (call it riot or rebellion) I have a very modest story to tell: I was nine years old and we lived in Irvington, a suburb of Newark, less than four miles from the heart of the disturbance. Since then Irvington has gained its own reputation for violence and crime, but that is another story. 

My father owned a paint and wallpaper store on West Market Street in Newark and traveled there every morning at six. He came home at six every evening. The people in the neighborhood, who were almost exclusively African-American, weren't "friends," but knew him well enough to understand the kind of man he was.

When the trouble began during the "Summer of Love," there was extensive coverage on television and radio. I remember my mother being terrified and calling the store to reach Dad. He was waffling on staying there and waiting for things to quiet down. She was adamant: COME HOME NOW!

My father would do anything for my mother, and acquiesced to her wishes (later letting us know he had stopped at the bank and had a decent wad of cash on him because he didn't know when he'd be back). There were no cell phones, children, so the time between that first phone call and when he'd be expected to walk through our door was radio silence.

But walk through he did and I've never seen my mother, who is now 88, look so relieved. I felt it myself, although I wasn't sure why everybody in Newark was so angry (I found out later). He told us about the buildings on fire and the broken windows and doors he's seen on the drive home. He'd seen violence on Springfield Avenue and downplayed it in front of the children, but the newspapers, television and radio didn't care that we were young; they told it all.

There were reports of arson and looting going on in and around the neighborhood of my father's store. He was concerned about what he'd find when he went back.

I honestly don't remember if Dad returned the the store the next day or three days later. My mother says he was probably home a couple of days until the state of emergency was lifted. But he called us when he got there and reported no damage to his business.

Instead he found that the locals had taken bars of soap and written the words SOUL BROTHER on his front plate-glass window. The store had been untouched.

A few years after that summer my father had moved the store back to where it began, on Chancellor Avenue in Irvington because the new University of Medicine and Dentistry was expanding and bought the building from my father. Today a parking lot stands on that street. I don't know if he ever discussed those awful days (26 people died and many more were injured) with his neighbors on West Market Street, or thanked them for their kind gesture. But there had been a trust--probably unspoken--between and among them and it had been borne out.

It speaks to me today of what kind of man my father was, but also of what kind of people lived in that city. When the real time of crisis--and it was nothing short of that--came, they looked out for those who had treated them with respect. It says a lot.

anti-trump venues for writers

I don't know about you, but lately I can't seem to write anything except anti-trump stuff. Mostly I've been taking other people's drawings of animals (send me yours, [email protected], I like jpegs) and putting leftist words with them. I know it doesn't really do anything, it doesn't stop our country from being an asshole, but it makes me feel better. And it's an opportunity to feel like a part of something, because so far 23 people have contributed drawings to the project, and the images are appearing in Maudlin House in a column called Angry Giraffe.

So anyway, I thought it might be useful to compile a list of literary magazines and small presses actively seeking anti-trump work. And then I discovered that Entropy Magazine has an ongoing list of just this kind, under "Where to Submit Your Writing" at trumpwatch.entropymag.org/artwriting/.

Not on their list:

Booth Books, Birth of the White House Cool: Reflections on the Obama Years

Light Quarterly, Poem of the Week

Passages North, Urgent and Timely Responses

Unconfirmed rumor: William Allegrezza at Moria Books will publish 100 anti-trump digital chapbooks through locofo chaps in honor of the first 100 days of the "presidency."  

 

No Internet: a vacation of reading and thinking

by Marilyn Thiele

I had hoped to post last week from the delightful small hotel in Antigua where my husband and I have escaped the winter for a short time every year for the last ten years. As our years of accumulating “things” have evolved into an effort to divest the junk, we give this trip to each other as our Christmas gift. We did escape on schedule, despite my bout with the flu a few days before leaving, but we escaped a bit more than we had planned.

The hotel was built in the early 1980’s by an Australian ex-pat who by that time, if his stories are to be believed (and we do believe them), had traveled around most of the world in various capacities and was now ready to settle down to a peaceful life on a Caribbean island. Tony is now 92, and we wonder every year if we will see him again. 2017 finds him incredibly healthy and still swimming early in the morning, but living now as a tenant in his apartment on the property he has sold. The realities of property management just got to be a bit too much.

Most of the staff has remained, but the investors have hired a manager for the property, as their main careers are not in real estate or hotel management. We met both the new owners and the manager. This small hotel has several patrons, who, like us, return year after year to escape the winter winds, and the new proprietors want to maintain the intimate atmosphere and traditions while modernizing to accommodate new visitors. We are relatively confidant that we will be comfortable returning in the future to what almost seems like another home.

Of course, new management looks for ways to improve efficiency, and a change in internet providers looked as if it would both improve service (never that bad in prior years) and save money. As a business owner, I know that what a sales person tells me and what customer service actually does are frequently very different. And such was the case with the internet; while we were there, it was sporadic at best. For a few minutes I could check Facebook or e-mail; then as I tried to respond, the system died for several hours. After a couple of days, I gave up my frequent checking to see if we had service. What on Day One seemed like a major annoyance became by Day Five a forgotten problem.

If I had to be cut off from the internet, this is the year when it turned out to be a benefit. We weren’t cut off from news; there was television, and both network and cable news were available. But I wasn’t compulsively checking Facebook for the “outrage of the day” or being bombarded with memes, links to snarky commentary, or predictions of the end of life as we know it. I realize that I had succumbed to the psychological syndrome that I have seen described by a few different names, but basically amounts to a constant sense of anxiety, fear, anger, and ultimately depression. I had actually been feeding this syndrome in myself by looking for the latest signals of impending disaster. After a few days, I was reading the crime fiction I love without interrupting the flow of the narrative with the flow of bad news.

As the sense of peace and perspective settled in, I was able to process what has been happening in politics with less emotional baggage. This doesn’t mean I stopped caring about the outrageous talk and behavior of our new leader and his minions, or that I don’t fear for the future. It just was a time to reflect without constantly stoking my anxiety. I was forced by circumstances to drop back a bit; and I hope now that I am back to the real world that I ration my doses of outrage more carefully.

What I realized is that outrage and anger can sometimes feel good, but that it would be beneficial if I can channel that energy into something productive. I am not a marching and demonstrating type of person, although I admire those who march and demonstrate and think it is important to show the numbers of people who object. I also realized of all the troubling commentary I have heard, the most troubling to me is the lack of knowledge by those who voted based on slogans and buzz words. We have probably all seen the interviews where people were asked if they preferred Obamacare or the Affordable Care Act, and were completely unaware that they were one and the same. One person said, when he realized that he had voted against his own interests, “I must have been living in a bubble.” Yes.

My next thoughts had to do with my own little corner of the world. I live in a very red district in a very blue state. I am careful to avoid political discussions in my shop; it just isn’t good for business. Of course, people want to talk, and politics is the overriding issue. I have been astounded that whenever a customer raises current events, it turned out that he or she is pretty much on the same page as I am. Here? In this county? Why was the vote here so red when everyone I know is blue? I had my suspicions, but it took one particular gentleman to say it out loud. Flemington is our county seat, and the town is full of lawyers. This attorney is a regular, usually shopping for books to read to his young children, and our chats were about children’s books. He is nice enough, but projects the bluster and bombast that many in his profession do. So when he brought up politics, and started railing against the current regime, I was surprised. I commented that I found it amazing how everyone who raises the issue in my shop is a liberal in this conservative county. He just said, “Of course. You meet the ones who read.” My suspicion confirmed.

I don’t really believe that all those who have opinions different from mine are not readers or thinkers. But I am convinced that there are too many people who don’t read (books, news, lengthy commentary or anything else) and are easily swayed by superficial statements that sound good but don’t hold up under any analysis.

Now comes the tough part. How does one encourage the non-readers to spend time learning on their own what our constitution means, or what the nuances of health care or climate change or immigration are? It won’t happen through disparagement or snarkiness. I have a few ideas that I plan to explore in a future post, since this one is overly lengthy already. I would welcome any suggestions about how a small bookshop in a small town can make even a small difference in getting more people to read – for the benefit of all.

Stairway to Heaven (The Last Dance)

Josh Getzler

 

It happened this morning like it happens every year. The emails started at 3 AM—Happy New Year! Welcome Back! So…about that manuscript. By 10 in the morning, there were eight; by noon, 14. Today is the first business day of the new year, and everyone wanted to get rolling.

 

Publishing is such a cyclical industry that anyone who’s been involved in any aspect of it knows the rhythm of the year—which is kind of like a school year: Business gets going right after Labor Day, with a peak right before and after the October Frankfurt Book Fair and a frantic burst of dealmaking right after Thanksgiving as agents and editors try to finish their calendar years with ONE LAST DEAL before everyone starts to depart for winter break.

 

Then there are crickets for two weeks, as authors finish their NaNoWriMo edits, agents write their new pitches and look through the Fall’s subs that didn’t quite get traction, working to inject new energy. There is a sustained energy to the industry through March, when it begins to be Fair Season—Bologna (for children’s books) leads to London (for everything), then a break for six weeks or so, then the big BEA convention that begins the summer season.

 

Summer is a crap shoot. Back in The Day, it was a dead zone, with editors disappearing to the Hamptons and nothing getting done. Nowadays, however, the industry slows, but doesn’t stop. Everyone takes a break, but it’s rolling. Consecutive rather than simultaneous. So sometimes it’s possible to make things happen, and sometimes it’s not.

 

But everyone knows about the first workday after New Years. We’ve all had a vacation, and had slowed down for a couple of weeks before we left. Authors get itchy—they know that they can’t expect much for around four weeks, so by the time Christmas break is over, it’s TIME.

 

Hence, 14 gentle nudges in the first morning of the new year. And I’m fine with that (as long as “Hi, yes, I’m on it” is an acceptable response).

 

I’ve been blogging on Hey, There’s a Dead Guy in the Living Room pretty much every Tuesday for five and a half trips around this publishing cycle, from the very beginning of Hannigan Salky Getzler in 2011 until today. And it’s been fascinating to explore this industry—as well as music, politics, parenting (sometimes), sports, and other arts. I’ve had three assistants. Approximately 20 interns. Three offices. One New York Times Best Seller. Two USA Today Best Sellers. A bunch of successes, and some books that never caught the public’s fancy the way I thought they should.

 

All three of my kids became teenagers during this time period, and they, as well as my wife, Amanda, have dealt with my Tuesday evening freakouts, where we’ll be watching TV or reading at 10:30 at night, and all of a sudden I’d say “Oh NO, it’s TUESDAY!” and run into our bedroom where the desktop sits.

 

I’ve written blog posts in Florida and Prague, London (a bunch of times) and assorted conferences. Sometimes I punted, and posted a photo with a caption. Sometimes, though, I’d spend a thousand words on an esoteric topic within the publishing world.

 

This blog definitely helped me improve my visibility—my Q rating, as it were—and many prospective clients cite the blog in their queries. And the most popular blog post of my tenure here was about “The Modifier Zone,” where I go through a few first pages to show how writers sometimes frontload their manuscripts with adjectives—presumably to show me that they know big words—before settling down to their true styles. (The fact is, though, that probably the TRULY most popular posts of my time were written not by me, but by my son Joe, who can continue on his own blog at Skidmore next year.)

 

But I started to realize this year that I needed to wind down. I’ve really written a lot the past five years, and found that I was boring myself. I didn’t want to write another post about queries, or marketing ebooks, or the changing bookselling attitudes in the UK. It’s not that I was not enjoying writing, but that I wasn’t enjoying the deadlines, the relentlessness of time passing. And I kind of want to write different things—maybe more about being a parent, or about music, or even some fiction…but that’s really not what Dead Guy is about. Mostly, I need to recharge the batteries and start over in a different way.   

 

When I was a teenager, and went to camp, the weekly socials (we had socials) always ended with Stairway to Heaven, so the party could end...but slowly, over 8 minutes. That's really what I've been doing the past weeks--wrapping up slowly, so I didn't actually have to turn on the lights and go back to my bunk. But it's time. So…thanks for reading! I’ve loved the feedback, the friends I’ve made through the blog, the challenge of consistent writing, the way it’s let me organize my thoughts. It’s probably made me a better agent. It’s definitely made me a better writer.

 

And particular thanks to Jeff and Lynne (whose thumbnail always seemed to appear on my Facebook links to my posts) and Terri and Jessy and the rest of the Dead Guys. Hopefully Jeff will let me guest post once in a while if I ask nicely, when something relevant comes up. I look forward to reading everyone’s posts, and to hearing how the NEXT Dead Agent Guy analyzes the publishing industry.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pPvNqOb6RA

 

Nothing of Substance

Jeff Cohen

• They play John Lennon's "Imagine" in Times Square right before the ball drops every year. I don't think anybody really listens to the lyrics.
• As is my family's custom, we watched the Marx Brothers on New Year's Eve. This year, one of the selections was DUCK SOUP. It was eerily prescient. ("If you think this country's bad off now, just wait 'til I get through with it.")
• I thought the Yule Log might be the silliest thing to watch on TV when I was a kid. Now I realize it's tuning in to watch time pass while a million people stand for hours in the cold with silly hats and no bathroom.
• Watching a marathon of The Twilight Zone on a holiday weekend based strictly on the passage of time is a little cruel.
• Baseball should have no offseason. After the World Series, an alternative Major League should begin for four months playing only in warm climates.
• Every once in a while I just can't play guitar. (I'm never really very good.) I can't make simple chords. I figure what little ability I had is leaving me. Then I cut my fingernails and go, "Oh yeah."
• At the end of each year I look for a wall calendar for my office and end up making my own on iPhoto. This year it's pictures of acoustic guitars. 
• Some people look at the beginning of the year as a chance for a sort of rebirth, an opportunity to take stock and make adjustments to improve themselves. I think there's something wrong with those people.
• Every year the Farmer's Almanac tells us in the Northeast that we're going to have a horrendously difficult winter. It's right about half the time.
• The Weather Channel has to stop naming winter storms. That's just stupid.
• People ask me what kind of music I have on when I'm writing. Right now I'm listening to Gerry Rafferty. 
• If I never have to go another wedding that doesn't involve one of my children, I'm fine with that.
• How happy are clams, really?
• Go see LaLa Land. It's an end-of-the-year movie that's not depressing. How often do you get one of those?
• I just read The Daily Show: The Book. I am more convinced than ever that Jon Stewart is a genius and while he is clearly happier, we are lessened by his absence on television.
• Hey. I hope you have a really good year. For the record, I'd like to do the same. Let's put some effort into that.

 

Pitchers and catchers report in 43 days.

See Ya, 2016! (And Don't Come Back!)

Jeff Cohen

A quick post today because it's the day after Christmas, there are five days to New Year's Eve (or as my daughter Eve calls it, "New Year's Me"), and almost everybody's off work today.

It's been an exhausting year and it ain't getting any easier as it draws to a close. Personally, there have been ups and downs. Externally it's been mostly downs, but that's a topic for another time and place. And there's no point in recapping all that's gone on.

Let's just end this day, this week, this year with the hope that things will improve. I know; it doesn't really seem like that's a realistic expectation right now, but it's possible. And keep in mind that we have some small say in our conditions if not our destinies. We can make our voices heard. We can disagree when we disagree and do so loudly. We can demand. 

Some things will be beyond our control, surely. But a new year represents, metaphorically, a re-beginning despite it actually being a continuation. You will not feel that much different next Sunday than you do the day before, depending on how much celebrating you do Saturday night. It's like your birthday--you're technically a year older, but you worked your way up to that moment by living through all the other ones--and you'll be pretty much the same when it comes. Time is a concept we have created to ensure we can be late for meetings.

So here are my wishes for everyone who writes or reads this little blog we've put together: May you get all you deserve and maybe a little bit more. May you stay vigilant and conscious. May you enjoy your work and cherish those you love. Have a little fun. See at least one comedy. Read a book or four. Do all you can to enjoy yourself, but do no harm to yourself or anyone else. Pet a dog. Have a piece of cake. Try to understand, if not agree with, the other side of an argument. Care about people you don't know. Watch a baseball game. Go to the movies and DON'T TALK. See a live play. Listen to music, some maybe that you haven't heard before. Stay out of the hospital but maybe go to the gym. 

And above all, do what makes you happy.

Here's to 2017. We don't know what it'll be. But there is hope in the idea that it could be anything.

An Agent-Blogger Wraps Up: Publisher/Agent Relations

Josh Getzler

 

As I get ready to give up my Dead Guy slot in January, I’m going to spend the next three weeks looking back on the past ten years in publishing. As I thought how to do this in a limited amount of time, I decided to devote this week to some changes I’ve seen in the ways editors and publishers relate to agents; then talk about agent/client relations next week. Then, to wrap up, I’ll give some figures about my own journey from sports executive to partner in a growing literary agency.

 

Ten years ago, when I joined Writers House as a very old assistant to two excellent (and patient) agents—Simon Lipskar and Dan Lazar—Viking Penguin and Random House were years away from merging. There was no such thing as a Kindle (or ebooks in any real form). We still periodically submitted manuscripts in printed form, via mail or messenger (though most of it was by email, to be sure). There were really no restrictions to speak of in terms of how many editors at a house an agent could submit a book to—if you thought six editors in different imprints at Random House could like a book, you could send to all of them and if more than one liked it, they would fight it out to see who would buy it.

 

Ten years ago, there was also just the beginning of a sense by publishers that literary agents could be productive forces in the process—that we were not simply sharks looking to gum up the works. More and more agents had editorial experience (as I did), and more and more agencies had active internship programs, so the population of English majors thought of both the buy and sell sides when trying to figure out how to enter publishing and not make any money. But there were also still many editors who treated me with skepticism—I remember a pretty venerable editor at a literary imprint of one of the Big Six ask me what, exactly, I thought I was adding to the publishing process beyond trying to fleece him for a ton of money for substandard novels. On some level, I thought of publishers as my opponents, and my assumption was that I was looking to defeat them.

 

As I left my office this afternoon almost ten years later, with 60 clients and a group of seven working together at the agency where I’m a partner, Publishing has undergone several intense disruptions. Digital publishing emerged, first as an existential threat to print book publishing and brick-and-mortar bookstores, then eventually as an incorporated and accepted form of distribution and format. The financial disasters in 2008, just as I was submitting my first list of manuscripts, meant that publishers were forced to cut what was probably a bloated population of editors and support staff—logical and probably necessary from the business side, but incredibly difficult to watch when those layoffs meant that a quarter of my friends lost their jobs in numbers squeezes. The folks who remained, as advances went down for many (though certainly not all) books, Borders went out of business, and contraction took hold, actually became substantially more congenial and collaborative.

 

After the financial crisis, Publishers also became more selective about how agents were permitted to submit books. Instead of unlimited access to the editors at Random House, for example, we were restricted to three: One each from the Crown, Knopf, and Random House Groups. (Again, this was probably logical, but made life somewhat more difficult for us, and limited competition—I’ll come back to this.)

 

Also, as time has passed, publishers established digital imprints in (mostly) genre books (mystery, science fiction, romance), closing imprints and establishing new models of paying authors, sometimes with low or no advances but slightly better royalty splits, to mixed success. (To be fair, in the past year or so, I’ve started to see these models begin to catch hold, so while the initial forays were pretty meager, there is greater hope now.) I am not going to get into the seismic changes that the Amazon/ Agency Model lawsuits caused to contracts and the business side of the industry as a whole, since there are many people (most notably Mike Shatzkin, Hillel Italie, and Michael Cader) who have done it brilliantly.  Finally, I’m not going to get into self-publishing in any detail. When HSG began in 2011, we thought it possible that we would be spending a significant amount of our energy assisting our clients in independent publishing efforts. While we’ve done some, with different levels of success, it’s not emerged as a significant aspect of our business.

 

But the biggest difference I’ve found in the past ten years has been my relationship in the editorial and marketing aspects of my clients’ publishing experiences. Rather than being the guy who picks out a book, formats it, sends it to a publisher, negotiates a contract, and gets out of the way, agents need to play a very different role with publishers: that of partner.

 

Because lists have shrunk over the past ten years, but the barriers of entry to submitting manuscripts have been lowered to almost nothing with email subs, publishers now rely on agents to be true first layers of defense. We must be that much more selective because publishers will be even MORE selective. We must get manuscripts into extremely clean form—most of the time I do two or three significant reads of a book, with either a detailed editorial letter (with accompanying calls to explain and discuss) or full-on line edits before I will consider starting to submit a manuscript that starts out extremely strong. And once I sell a book, I am much more involved in the strategy sessions for publicity and marketing. And instead of a suspicious or antagonistic relationship with my counterparts at publishing houses, there is much more of a spirit of collaboration.

 

Now before we all sit in a circle singing Kumbaya, there are also some less-exciting aspects of the process which have evolved. I certainly miss the days, for example, when if an editor began to read a book and enjoyed it, she would call me and say “Don’t you DARE do anything without telling me first,” or “Oh my God, this is amazing—I’m taking it to ed board next week.” More often, I’m getting lovely, polite passes after long waits, with regretful statements like “Well, I had three reads, we were really excited, but just couldn’t get it through Acquisitions.” This serves to a book’s detriment in two ways: It means I can’t help an editor answer potential challenges that come up in editorial meetings; and not knowing that an editor is interested means that I can’t tell OTHER editors that there is action, thus allowing there to be momentum to the submission. It works against excitement to keep cards too close to the vest. That’s really a significant issue I’ve seen.

 

Another is a growing insistence, in the interest of a “360-degree worldwide business,” for publishers to insist on retaining foreign and translation rights for smaller books with little potential of being sold abroad by the overwhelmed foreign rights pros at publishing houses—who are going to make their nut on the big books. If agencies had greater opportunity to retain those rights, we could concentrate on them more explicitly—we have smaller lists, and each title is a bit more of a special individual flower than at most publishers.

 

This is a half mile wide and an inch deep, but it does illustrate in its own small way just how dynamic the relationship has been over the past ten years between agents and publishers. It’s only speaking from my own journey, and others surely have had different experiences and feelings about these aspects of the business. But hopefully it gives you a little idea of this piece of the job of a literary agent in late 2016.

It's Just My Opinion

Jeff Cohen

After reading Erin's Friday post I was... well, inspired is probably going too far. But I did take her point about the "unpopular opinions" fad going around Facebook. Yes, people were looking at that prompt and thinking they had to post things that were inherently negative: I hate this, I think this thing everybody likes is stupid, and so on. I have in fact contributed to the problem (saying that I can't stand The Wizard of Oz, an opinion I have expressed here).

And since I think we have rarely been in a situation that required positivity more than the present day, I'd like to be part of the solution. So here are 10--mostly unrelated to crime fiction publishing--positive opinions.

10 Positive But Unpopular Opinions

1. I actually like the Electric Light Orchestra. "Serious" listeners to pop music think Jeff Lynne's 70s band that mixed classical strings and occasionally horns into the arrangement is silly and a sign that one is easily misled. I disagree. Trying something different often resulted in some spurts of genius (There has never been an arrangement besides Lynne's of Roll Over Beethoven that included actual Beethoven) and even though the later years were fairly disposable as Lynne lost interest ("The music plays/so loud and clear/but somehow I can't make you hear/the dream is gone") much of what is there is still worth listening to.

2. I think baseball is infinitely more exciting than football. "Baseball is a slow sport." Sure. If you're not paying attention. You want to be a casual fan who only has to look up every once in a while when 22 men try to knock each other down? Enjoy American football. For a "fast sport," I've never seen an activity that has so much downtime. But hey, to each his own. For me, the fact that something can happen at any time in a baseball game, and the situations that develop around each pitch make it a nail biter from beginning to end.

3. I think there should be cursing in cozy mysteries. I get it--many readers want a clean, safe space to read about violence, death and avarice. That's fine. There should be such a thing without question. But when I write a character who stumbles over a murdered corpse and has to say, "Oh, drat!" I think there should be an alternative. Perhaps two versions of each book should be issued: One with "bad" language and one sanitized for your protection. I don't think people who want a "clean" version are wrong. I just don't think they're all the readers.

4. I'm all for saying "happy holidays." People already think I'm a lefty liberal idiot, so I might as well go the whole way. What's wrong with acknowledging that not everybody celebrates Christmas? What's wrong with noting that not everybody celebrates ANYTHING? Those who rail against "political correctness" are missing the point. It's about accommodating those not in the majority to make everyone feel more comfortable. Where's the problem with that? 

5. I still think Superman is the best hero. Keep your dark brooding types. Think of a better argument in favor of fair immigration: A being from another place comes here, has enough power to take us over and make us do his bidding, and instead decides to use his unique abilities and help in any way he can. There are lessons here and they aren't about who has the best things.

6. I think the Beatles are better than Beyonce. This is not to diminish Ms. Knowles at all. I thought the Beatles were better than Michael Jackson, Elton John and whatever other act was supposed to surpass them. Come up with better songwriting, better musicianship, more innovation and... you can't.

7. I think newspapers will survive. Yes, there will be massive changes and there will be downsizing. But I'm encouraged by the fact that the best investigative, in-depth reporting done during this past election cycle (about which no more will be said) was done by Newsweek and the Washington Post, followed by the New York Times. And in the week after the election, 41,000 people bought subscriptions to the New York Times.

8. I think independent bookstores can prevail over online sellers, and will. Sure, you can buy anything--literally--online and have it at your door within two days. But when you need a suggestion for your next read, do you want it to come from another reader, or from a algorithm? I once had a site recommend a certain DVD to me because I had bought a vacuum cleaner from them. The signs are there. Independent bookstores rule.

9. I think comedy is about to have a renaissance. And I don't mean just because political satire will be EVERYWHERE. I think the tide is turning in comedy and there will be a wider range of product to take in. It doesn't all have to be raunch or children's animation and nothing else, and soon we'll see that it's not. The recent Ghostbusters wasn't a great movie, but it did show off a tiny sample of the talents of Kate McKinnon, and she's going to be huge.

10. I believe the next four years will lead to something good. It'll take a while and it won't be fun, but activists will be born. Already the actor Michael Sheen has announced that he is no longer the actor Michael Sheen and is now the activist Michael Sheen. And the thing about activists is they're the people who get stuff done. Because they're, you know, active.

 

Last positive note: Pitchers and catchers report in 56 days. Happy holidays, to those who celebrate!

Around the Corner

Josh Getzler

 

This is the first week in...a couple of months...that I've felt that the publishing industry has been truly awake. I had a day today without a lunch, with only one phone call, and the entire rest of the day filled with email catch-up. And it was excellent. Editors and clients were around and responsive. My nudges were received with good humor and promises of action. And there was a sense, even as the calendar hurtles to December, that there is one good last chance for action.

 

And I really shouldn't be that down about how work had gone. I've been able to submit books this autumn, and close deals, and guide my clients through the writing and editing process, and think about new clients as well. But the tension of the election (as well as my own personal tensions involving our son applying to college, our kids getting through school, breaking in a new assistant, etc etc etc), has been...difficult to get through. Again, it's not exactly the paralysis of writer's block, or a systematic depression. Just a kind of torpor. And it's not even that things are resolved, really--just that I feel like, right after Thanksgiving Week, everyone kind of pulled up their skirts and said "OK, let's make something of this semester."

 

And so we shall. Should be interesting.

VOTE!

Jeff Cohen

First a word from our sponsor: THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND is now available for preorder as an audiobook. Audible Studios is offering the third Asperger's Mystery novel from E.J. Copperman/Jeff Cohen starting November 15, but you can order it now. This concludes the message from our sponsor.

More important: My last word on America's longest bad acid trip: Votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote.

That was my last word on the subject. And now: There has never been an accurate depiction of writing in movies or on television. I understand why that is true: Watching someone write is almost as much fun as watching the blank screen but offers less hope for improvement. Even people who write in teams like collaborators or television writing rooms are given to long, quiet, inert phases where nothing is happening. The most you can expect in terms of visual excitement is the writer pacing. The largest sign of progress is... typing.

So it makes sense that no film or television program has ever successfully made drama out of writing. Writers in movies and TV tend to be doing something other than writing when we see them. They are solving crimes (Castle), solving even more crimes (Murder, She Wrote), solving crimes based on their work (The Raven), or searching for inspiration while probably falling in love (all other movies with writers in them).

What's interesting about the depictions in popular entertainment is how much the stories get wrong, given that they were all written by, I'm gonna say writers. Assigned with the impossible task of making the routine of someone like me interesting, most writers punt. They fall back on the popular tropes that have worked before and don't try for a new approach. I understand that impulse too, given the high level of difficulty involved. I wouldn't want to have to write an accurate but engrossing portrait of a writer at work.

On the other hand, even writing a character who happens to be an author and, yes, is helping to solve crimes in the Mysterious Detective Mystery series, I have attempted to provide at least a little realism in the depiction. Rachel Goldman is a mid-list mystery author who just grinds it out. She writes 1,000 words a day (stop me if this sounds familiar) no matter what. She hates revisions. She watches the success of other writers and doesn't so much envy it as wonder why she isn't doing as well. 

Rachel is constantly noticing things she might be able to use in a future book, and is always slightly disappointed in the way her work turns out. It's never quite what she envisioned, but she doesn't have time for that because she has to get another 1,000 words together for today.

She deals with the publishing business' foibles as many of us do: Rachel mostly ignores the industry and relies on her agent and her editor for information. She knows some booksellers but not enough. She has an assistant (which most of us definitely don't, but I wanted Rachel to have someone to ask for research and to talk to, so her assistant works only twice a week). She deals with her small group of fans gratefully but with some astonishment, wondering why they might be so devoted to her creation.

The whole thing about her character leaping off the page and showing up at her door is another story entirely.

Personally, I'm not looking for the accurate portrait of a working writer in popular entertainment because I sincerely believe it would be too dull to provide much amusement. But if anyone in the business would like to discuss putting Rachel up on the screen, they will find no resistance from me.

Bring it on, Hollywood.

 

Vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote vote.

 

One More Week

Josh Getzler

 

I think one of the reasons I've been blocked the past couple of months, and my posts have been mundane and insignificant (and for which I'm terribly sorry) is that it's felt just that--mundane and insignificant, rather than the enormously important event occurring next Tuesday (and I'm already going to say, next week's post will have one word: VOTE). I sit with my wife each evening and watch the news, trying to avoid upsetting or stressful reports about one side or the other. Truth has been so much stranger than any of the novels I've worked on. And in a week, it'll be over, and one large part of the country will be ok with the result, and everyone else won't (and honestly, even many of the folks who will be ok will be convincing themselves). I've got my horse in the race, and I'm biting my nails. And my great hope is that by the time I write this post in TWO weeks, we will be in a better, more peaceful place. Not holding my breath on that last part, but I can hope.

 

If you are in a state with early vote, do so. And tell your friends to do it.

 

Back to publishing after this extended nightmare is over. 

My Dystopic Inbox

Josh Getzler

 

As I was looking through my posts from the past couple of months, I realized that between Jewish holidays, the end of the summer, and parenting three teenagers, my posting on Hey Dead Guy has been pretty weak. It's been pretty rough--to the point where I have been describing my inbox, which has been deluged during my absences the past couple of weeks, as "dystopic."

 

But it's done now. My Senior is completing his first quarter and his college apps. The Jewish holidays concluded this evening and I'll actually have 7 straight work days uninterrupted. The puppy is slightly less insane. All good.

 

The question for an agent with a dystopic inbox is this: where to start?  Do I begin by answering the "please update" emails from clients? Or by thanking editors who have passed on my submissions? Do I look at the contracts that have arrived the past couple of days? Or do I continue my Fall manuscript submissions? Do I write the editorial letters to prospective clients? Or to current clients? Or do I read the second draft of a manuscript when I am already behind on the manuscripts I SHOULD be submitting already? Plus a couple of clients have new opportunities in different projects.

 

And the World Series is on.

 

And the election is in two weeks.

 

I need a new Holiday.

Most Guys Don't Do That. No.

Jeff Cohen

I have (almost) entirely refrained from discussing this massively insane election season on this site. We are for the most part devoted to the publishing of crime fiction, and my opinions on one candidate or another have been relegated largely to social media.  I did make one slip here, and no one seemed offended, but I am cognizant that visitors don't come here to find out what I think about politics and I respect that.

But.

The events of the past few days have brought forth something I feel that I need to address. No, I'm not going to tell you who to vote for if you're an American, although I'm sure it will be interpreted that way by some. That's not my intention. What I feel overwhelmingly obligated to do is to debunk one toxic idea that has been floating around since Friday. If you see that as a denouncement of a candidate, so be it. But that's not what I'm trying to do. Entirely. This is the truth:

No, women. All guys don't talk about you that way. Not me and not anyone I know. We don't do that, we never did, and it's not normal.

What is being discussed on the infamous "hot mic" tapes is nothing less than sexual assault. It is the talk of two men who felt privileged enough to do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted whether it was desired by the woman or not. That's not "locker room talk" and it's not "boys being boys." And it bothers me when the defense is that "all guys talk like that." 

We really don't. I can't begin to tell you how angry I am that I have to defend that position. Luckily, the women who know me don't have to be told it's true about me. But they might think other men really do have this level of degradation and objectification as a default position. And some, I'm sure, do. Don Draper might have retired, but he isn't extinct yet. 

But not "all guys." Not even close to "all guys." As far as I can tell you from personal experience, no guys I know. We're all looking at each other right now incredulously. We're astonished this kind of thing is seen--by anyone--as acceptable or "mainstream." It's not. And now, when I walk down a random street and see a woman--any woman--walking toward me, I feel the urge to say, "Not me! I don't say that stuff! I don't even think it!" I don't want them thinking such things when they see my son on the street, either. Because they'd be wrong both times.

A long time ago when I was in my early twenties, I was essentially a walking hormone and unattached. I was working in New York City and living on my own and yes, I spent quite a bit of time with my friends, most of whom were in similar social circumstances, discussing various women we knew and hoped perhaps to date.

Guess what--we didn't talk like that then, either. It's not normal, it's not accepted, it's not okay and it's not to be dismissed as "locker room talk." 

And that, in addition to all the rest, is what I object to personally. Now. Vote for whomever you please, but please vote. And when you see or read me, please don't think that "all guys" act like that. We surely don't.

Back to crime fiction next week, I promise.

A Few Short Takes

Josh Getzler

 

It's been a hectic day, filled with meetings, submissions, taking kids to the doctor for their checkups (which confirmed that they are, indeed, teenagers, but didn't offer any solutions). I don't have the head space for a full topic, particularly since the main one I could think of is politics and that's just giving me anxiety. So here are a few short takes.

 

1) The summer is about editing, but the fall is about submissions. I spent the summer reading and working on manuscripts, with many fewer submissions than I've had the past several years. Editors seemed to be doing less new-author reading, and much more solidifying lists with new books by authors already in the stable. Now I'm in the process of submitting...a LOT of books. It's huge fun, but there's a different feel.

 

2) Whither Rio? I saw report on BBC World News last night about the aftermath of the Paralympics, which were held on the heels of the Olympics, which were held on the heels of the World Cup. For more than two years, there's been a focus on Brazil and its beauty and enormous problems. Now the athletes and the fans and the press are leaving. But the corruption scandals and violence and poverty remain.

 

3) Nobody has solved the problem of how to reliably move the dial of book sales. You may have been able to advertise in the NY Times Book Review and expect a bump; or get a book in the front table of Barnes and Noble and assume that the money would inevitably cause increased sales; or go out on tour and expect to speak to full houses (nah, that never worked as much as people said...). But now we have such individualization of sales, and such contraction of retail outlets, that it's extremely hard to move the dial unless you have established yourself either as a YouTuber before the book comes out; or as a franchise author before the internet; or simply catch fire somewhat randomly (maybe by overwhelming critical acclaim; or a particular topic that simply works; or...well, that's why we play the game). There was a short time when social media moved the dial--now it's necessary, and good, but only to stay on par. There is still the chance to sell a lot of books by being chosen for a Kindle Daily (or Monthly, or hourly) Deal. But it looks like Amazon may be glutting the market with price-driven deals as much as some cozy mystery imprints glutted the mystery market with books about murders involving knitting needles and cupcakes--sometimes simultaneously. Part of the value of marketing is increasing discoverability, to rise above the white noise. That's becoming ever harder.

 

4) The NY Football Giants are 2-0. Here's a GIF of Victor Cruz's touchdown dance. Stay happy!

 

 

 

 

 

Signs That You Aren't Funny

Jeff Cohen

I have often, in this space and elsewhere, urged those who are not funny to avoid trying to write comedy. This is not stated from a superior point of view, in that I am actually quite incapable of writing an entire story that is serious. I understand the impulse to do the other, but I'm here to warn the humor-impaired off the impulse. It won't be good for you and it won't be good for anyone else.

But the question that might arise from that statement is clear: How can I be sure I'm not funny? It's a reasonable query and one that should be addressed seriously. Alas, if you read that previous paragraph, you know I'm not the man for the job if those are the criteria.

So let's consider it: You think you might not be funny, and that's a problem because you'd like to write a funny story. How can you be certain? Maybe you're hilarious and you don't know it. Or, conversely, it's possible you are the least funny person on the planet but you believe yourself to be the reincarnation of Groucho Marx. Either way, you need a little guidance, and I'm here to help.

Signs You Aren't Funny

• You say something in the spirit of humor and nothing happens. Crickets chirp. People look uncomfortable. If anyone's still wearing a wristwatch, s/he looks at it. This is a clear signal. Think of writing a tragedy. You're suited to it.
• Someone asks you how you're doing and your impulse is to respond, "As well as Donald Trump." Now you haven't just not said something funny, you have waded into a political statement and worse, nobody knows what you mean. The only thing you've demonstrated is an ability to annoy people on both sides of the aisle. Think about becoming a speech writer. For Donald Trump.
• You say something you think is hilarious and people take you seriously. "Lou Gehrig died of Lou Gehrig's disease," you say. "What are the odds?" Your friend explains patiently that the condition is called ALS and it just took on the name of the famous Yankee AFTER he passed away from it and... Never mind. You're not funny.
• You, a rabbi, a priest and a minister walk into a bar and nobody thinks that's at all amusing. 
• Your favorite comedian of all time is Señor Wences.
• Your idea of a riotous comedy film is something directed by Ingmar Bergman.
• You wish W.C. Fields had just gone to an AA meeting. Just one. That poor man.
• You try to charm a woman you just met with your wit and find out from a friend later that she was listening to a hockey game in one ear.
• You think Seth Rogen should option Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis as a starring vehicle for himself. Wait. That's not a bad idea. Scratch that. Forget I said anything. Get me Seth Rogen's phone number.
• Someone asks who your favorite Marx Brother is and you answer, seriously, "Karl."
• Worse, "Gummo."
• Your idea of a gag present is a Target gift card.
• You walk into a party ready to slay them all with your ready wit and before you can speak everybody asks, "What's wrong?"

I hope this has proven to be the public service for which it was intended. Meanwhile, keep in mind that THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND isn't just out there buying itself. Same is true of WRITTEN OFF. And I'm just getting ready for SPOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL. Stay tuned.

Here's Why I Hate Rain Man

Jeff Cohen

I'll start this by saying that the third Asperger's mystery novel, THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND, will be officially published on Thursday, September 8. That's one day after my brother Charlie's birthday, which is entirely unrelated to the book or anything I'll be posting about today. Happy birthday, Charlie.

Of course I'd love it if you purchase a copy of said book on the day it's published, if for no other reason than the fact that publishers look at numbers right after the book comes out and make predictions about total sales, which affects the possibility that future contracts will be drawn necessitating further books in the series. So there's that.

But this installment in the series (and you don't have to start at the beginning, but you can) is a little different, and the reason for that is that I hate Rain Man.

When the Tom Cruise/Dustin Hoffman movie about a slick Hollywood Yuppie (you could say that then) who finds out he has an autistic older brother was released in December 1988, my wife was pregnant with our son Joshua, although we didn't know him yet. I thought it was a pretty good movie that was somewhat predictable, that Hoffman and Cruise were both very good and that it would win a bunch of awards and people would talk about the "courage" necessary to make it, both of which turned out to be true.

And then I didn't think much of it until sometime in 1994.

It took a while for Josh to be diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, a high-functioning (and even that term is demeaning) disorder (see previous parenthetical statement) on the autism spectrum. He was about six years old when we finally got that official diagnosis after the first psychologist we met told us our son was "eccentric." I had told him we weren't wealthy enough to be eccentric and that Josh therefore needed to be talked down to neurotic, and the doctor clearly believed he had found the genetic link he'd been looking for.

But it wasn't until he was starting kindergarten that we started dealing with other parents on a regular basis, and at various points Josh's Asperger's, which was not a well-known term at the time, would be brought up in conversation. And since nobody had heard of Asperger's, the term "autism" would invariably be mentioned, and that's when you'd hear it.

"Like Rain Man, right?" they'd say with a knowing nod.

Well, actually, no. Josh isn't a bit like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. He doesn't dress in the same clothes every day, he is not a "savant" who can tell you how to win at blackjack or how many matches have fallen out of the matchbox, he does not fly into a rage if he misses a particular television show (although that might have more to do with TiVo), he does make eye contact now and again, he is charming and conversant and it has never once been suggested that he be institutionalized because he poses a threat to the safety of his younger sibling, because he never has.

Are there people with autism who are like the character Raymond in Rain Man? Sure there are. Are all people with autism like the character? Good lord, no. And that's the problem.

The general public hears autism and they picture Hoffman in that movie. The more literate think they know what autism is because they read or saw The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, which I know many very smart people loved a lot. 

When I created the character of Samuel Hoenig for the Asperger's mystery series (which I was calling the Questions Answered series, but that was then and this is now), I was keenly aware of the danger and the responsibility involved in presenting a fictional character with a disorder on the autism spectrum. What I feared--although I knew my audience would not be anywhere near that of Rain Man or Curious Incident-- was that people with little knowledge of the spectrum would read a book from Samuel's point of view and say, "Now I know what autism is like."

Well, there's a reason it's called a "spectrum." Because the condition affects so many people and affects each in a singular, unique way, it is dangerous to suggest that one depiction, or even five, cover the range of what it entails. The last thing I wanted to do was create a character whose depiction by extension excluded the vast majority of those who would be defined as he was defined.

So that brings us to THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND (you thought I'd forgotten?). It has always been my intention to write a novel in which Samuel encounters a number of other people diagnosed with some form of autism so I could depict it as being more than one thing. I believe the first book in a series should engage the reader (they all should) and set up the premise for the series as a TV pilot episode does. The second should reinforce what the first did and settle the main characters' relationships so the reader knows what to expect. That way you can do what they DON'T expect at any time for the rest of the series.

The third book, in my opinion, is where the characters become whole. It's where you can write about them and not the mystery of the week (year). And in this case, it was where I could illustrate a very small section of the autism spectrum. 

In THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND, Samuel's client (Samuel runs a business called Questions Answered, which does just that) is a young man diagnosed with autism. Because he is aware of his condition and his personal issues with it, Tyler Clayton can't trust that a guy he knows from the convenience store, Richard Handy, is really a friend. He asks Samuel to confirm that fact.

During the course of his research, much happens that complicates Samuel's work, like Richard Handy being shot to death and Tyler being arrested for the crime. But it will also bring Samuel into contact with a number of other people diagnosed with autism, and hopefully the reader will notice that each one acts differently from the others. That's what this book is about for me.

You might find it's about something different for you. Because even the neurotypical are not all the same. 

 

P.S. Yes, today is Labor Day in the U.S., but hey, I have a book coming out on Thursday. If you want to read my comments on the holiday, please see what I said this time last year.

Questions? We've Got Answers!

Jeff Cohen

First: I am very sorry to note that last Thursday marked the final airing for The Nightly Show with Larry Wilmore. Having inherited the time slot of a phenomenon it was unfair of Comedy Central to believe the ratings would be maintained, particularly after another phenomenon left The Daily Show leading into this program. But I'm glad I got to know Mike Yard, Grace Parra,Holly Walker, Robin Thede and Jordan Carlos and saw some of the wonderful work they could do. Mr. Wilmore, don't let anyone tell you your show wasn't good enough. If this year has taught us anything, it is that quality is rarely the defining factor in popularity contests.

On to business: This week I opened the discussion to those on Twitter and Facebook this week to see if there were questions readers/visitors/total strangers might have for the author (that's me). There were no rules posted. So I should have known what to expect.

A quick word: I'll be updating throughout the day, so if you want to add a question, feel free to comment below and I'll get to it sooner rather than later.

Keep in mind that the opinions expressed here are those of the author and not people who aren't the author. Because that would be silly. So with the upcoming release of THE QUESTION OF THE FELONIOUS FRIEND  now only a few (2) weeks away, let's begin there.  

Jack Getze: Do you and E.J. do things together--besides writing books, I mean?

What are you implying, Jack? Must E.J. and I have our seconds contact you? (I've been listening to the Hamilton cast album too much.)

Arlene Cassidy: What's the best opening line ever?

It used to be "come here often?" but now I believe it's something on the order of, "I saw your profile and just couldn't resist."

(Actually it's probably, "Call me Ishmael." Everybody knows that one. Best one I ever wrote is likely, "The guy in Row S, Seat 18 was dead, all right.")

Bill Davis: How many times have you considered bumping off Elliot?

I assume Bill refers to Elliot Freed, protagonist of the Comedy Tonight (Double Feature) mystery series. I never considered bumping off Elliot, Bill. For one thing, he narrates the books, so that would leave a lot of empty pages. (Elliot fans: There is news forthcoming. No, not a new book, but news. I'll tell you when I can.)

Jack Getze (who apparently can't get enough): How do you keep track of all the characters in your several series? Any charts or special files?

I actually keep a "Bible" file on the Asperger's, Mysterious Detective and Agent to the Paws series because I tend to lose track of details like number of siblings and type of car the character drives. I never had to do that when I was writing just one or two series.

Ken Cohen (no relation--he's my cousin): How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?

Six.

John R. Rymer: Why is Trump still here?

Where?

Robert Walker: What is the cosmic explanation for how Jeff Cohen came into being?

I could ask my mother but that would probably lead to some very uncomfortable images in my head and who needs that?

Dawn: How do you write such spectacular dialogue? When I write, dialogue always feels painful and stilted, to the point where I feel like I must have a bit of Aspergers because I don't know how to have a normal conversation!

Thanks for the lovely compliment! For me dialogue is the best part of writing. I just come up with a first line and then let my characters have a conversation. The better you know your characters, the more effortless and realistic the dialogue will seem. (I say "seem" because it's never effortless!) I write as much dialogue as I want and then cut out the parts I don't need. 

Olympic Fever

Josh Getzler

 

Didn't have time tonight, between

 

 

and

 

 

it was all about the Olympics.

 

And it made me not have to think about

 

Part of the Problem? (Revised)

Jeff Cohen

Lately, more than usual, it has seemed impossible to escape the darker areas of society. One hideous, heart-wrenching event comes after the last hasn't had time to leave the news cycle. Violence seems to be erupting more often and more brutally everywhere. And the upcoming Presidential election in the U.S. is not anywhere near as funny as it used to be.

I'm not going to impose my politics on you, but to me the choice seems embarrassingly clear. And that's all I'll say.

People complain that there's "too much bad news." That's largely because bad things tend to happen and they are reported upon. If you want more good news, get out there and make some. 

For a crime fiction writer, there's a debilitating effect from all the sadness, rage and carnage in the streets. You start to wonder if what you're doing is actually contributing to the societal mayhem.

Particularly in my end of the pool, where the murder in the mystery is meant to be "fun," a moral question arises: Am I desensitizing a (very small) segment of the population to the horror of violence? Does my insistence on writing entertainment that revolves around the ultimate personal crime mean I'm adding to the problem instead of working to reduce it?

That's probably an example of a writer assuming more importance and influence than he's entitled to feel. The 8,820 people who have, to this date, bought GHOST IN THE WIND (oh yes, I get to check the numbers) have, I'm willing to wager, not killed anyone since buying and (hopefully) reading it. I don't think the cause-and-effect idea is that literal. But it does make one wonder whether the cumulative effect is more subtle, but just as insidious.

Writers are just like everyone else. Wait. Writers are a lot like everyone else. Okay, writers are the same species as everyone else and that means we do see the news and we are affected emotionally as is the bulk of the population. How can you view people being shot, assaulted, blown up and run over and not feel anything? So when it comes the part of the day when it's necessary to sit down and concoct tales of shootings, stabbings, poisonings and assorted mayhem, is it possible to disconnect and simply serve the story?

Sadly, yes. I write that 1,000 words every day no matter what the news has been personally or around the world. I wrote the day my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer and the day we found out it was Stage 1 and she'd be fine after treatment. I wrote the day my dog died. I wrote the day doctors told me I had lymphoma (they were wrong). I've written in hospital waiting rooms, mechanics' waiting rooms, on airplanes, in hotel rooms, from sickbeds and trains. I have written at conventions like Bouchercon and Malice Domestic. I have written while tending to sick children, on the day I moved each of them into and out of college dorms. 

I wrote on 9/11.

I'm not proud of all those facts, but I'm a writer. It's my job and it's what I do. But does what I'm writing help, hurt or have no effect whatsoever?

For the record, I've decided the answer is no. I respect my readers enough to assume they know the difference between reality and the fiction I pull out of my twisted brain. As for the tone the stories take, it's true that I try to make my readers laugh. Enough are buying the books that I can say with some certainty that I'm successful at least sometimes. Does that make the death and violence more "fun"? 

I don't write "funny" murders. I'm not looking for quirky methods of bumping off characters. The comedy, hopefully, comes in the reactions to the crime rather than the event itself. 

And I do not glamorize weapons. When a gun is pulled in one of my books it's seen as a scary, dangerous object. Because that is how I see guns. Your mileage may vary. 

So no, I don't think I'm damaging anyone's mind. Maybe that's a way to make myself feel better, but if so, it works. I rail against real violence; I decry the awful events that seem to permeate our news feeds on a daily, if not hourly, basis. I am not in favor of private citizens owning AR-15 assault rifles. That's me. My fiction is a character in a situation. Each one will react based on his/her personality. Yeah, they come from my mind, but they're not all me. I'll write characters I disagree with if it works for them.

The ultimate judgment, I have to say, probably rests with the reader. I've gotten emails from people who said they were helped by the diversion my book provided while they were going through a rough time. If I have written in hospitals, they have read my books in hospitals. I've heard from others who read the book at home while trying to deal with a new diagnosis of autism. Those, too, have been very touching to read, because people usually don't email an author if the book has had no impact on them at all. The ones who get in touch when they're angry usually just didn't like the book.

From my point of view, the writing will go on. It hasn't been a small consideration that over the past few weeks when things have seemed especially awful I've been working on a novel in which nobody gets killed. My first, and I'm happy about it. (Thanks, Terri!)

Do crime fiction novels (especially cozies) take violence to a place where it's unthreatening and "fun"? I leave that to sociologists and critics. If I felt that I was a bigger part of the problem than most, I would have to find another way to make a living, and this is the only thing I'm good at.

Here's my only piece of advice to anyone who's as horrified and upset as I am about what's been going on: Try to see the other person's side of the argument. Is that justification for violence? Absolutely not. But maybe if we understand WHY the person feels that way, we can start to work toward making fewer people feel that way. That's all I've got.

And don't vote for Trump. Sorry. It slipped out.

These Corpses Are Fictional

Jeff Cohen

I write mysteries--mostly murder mysteries--for a living. It's what I do, it's what I like to do and it's what I have become (in a small circle) known for. I've been doing that for over 16 years now. But I still haven't gotten used to the questions people ask when they find out this is my job. 

No, I'm not going off on the "so, are you still writing?" rant again. This is about something else.

With WRITTEN OFF, the latest of the E.J. Copperman titles to be published, I was thinking a little bit more about the writer's life because the character narrating the story is an author whose circumstances are a little like mine. But so far I haven't had anyone ask Rachel Goldman the question that most baffles me when I get it in conversation or at an author "event."

"Do you get revenge on people in your life by killing them off in books?"

So here's your answer: No.

I don't.

Seriously.

There appears to be some odd temptation among those who do what I do for a living to purge their anger and frustration by naming characters after people they don't like and then offing said characters in some especially ostentatious method. I guess that makes them feel better, and if so, more power to them. I never question another writer's method.

But I never do that. For one thing, there aren't that many people I'm angry with. Most of them are orange-colored Presidential nominees and other public figures and there's no fun in killing them off in books. Especially since I almost never set my mysteries anywhere but in suburban New Jersey and we don't get that much traffic in major party candidates here.

I just really don't get the impulse, to tell the truth. Killing off someone I don't like would require me to spend time mentally with that person while writing, which is the last thing I need. And I wouldn't get any satisfaction out of the practice. The next time I saw that person in real life it would just serve as a cruel reminder of my utter lack of power in the non-fictional world. I'd probably crawl into bed and stay there for a week, which would be a real inconvenience when the bed got made in the morning.

I don't often name characters after real people anyway. Again there's the problem of thinking about a real person when writing a fictional one, which means I can't make fun of the ones I like and I have to think about the ones I don't. There's no upside. I will occasionally name a character after a contest winner or something, but that's usually a person I've never actually met. Easier to do whatever the story requires under those circumstances.

In the interest of full disclosure, very early on I did fashion one murder victim after a guy I sort of knew in high school who had achieved some notoriety, if you want to call it that, in subsequent years. But I didn't really know the guy very well so I could mold him into exactly the kind of person I needed the character to be, and I gave him a completely different name for many reasons, some of which didn't involve the possibility of a nasty lawsuit. And now that I think of it, that character turned out not to be so dead late in the book, anyway. So I can stick to my statement: I haven't ever "killed off" a real person for symbolic revenge or any other reason.

When I was writing the first Aaron Tucker novel  For Whom the Minivan Rolls, I figured nobody would ever read--let alone publish--a book written almost entirely by accident by a first-time novelist who clearly had no idea what he was doing. So I gave the character some of my own circumstances and made up others. And no, I did not kill off anybody I had ever actually met.

But once Aaron had made his 17th comment about how lovely his wife Abby's legs were and a neighbor met my wife in the supermarket and called her Abby (thinking he was being amusing), I resolved never to get that close to home again. 

So do me a favor and don't ask me about my wife's legs, okay? It's fiction. All of it. 

For legal reasons. 

We Hold These Truths

Jeff Cohen

"We hold these truths to be self-evident: That all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness..."

 

To the Americans, like me, who read this blog: Isn't it great that our country was founded on these words? Isn't it great that our country was founded on words? 

There is a tendency in the U.S., and perhaps other places, to confuse patriotism with a belief that a country (or a government) must never be seen as being wrong. To criticize or point out problems is considered treasonous or close to it. But this country was conceived based on the idea that nothing is perfect. Our constitution was immediately amended and continues to be to this day; it is a living document that is never meant to be finished.

That's because we're built on ideas. Other places became organized because everybody already lived there or because the monarch decreed it. The United States was somebody's idea. Writers put together the concepts that would initially establish the nation but left open the possibility that changes over time would be necessary.

So the unquestioning dedication to a pledge of allegiance, the inclusion of patriotic songs at sporting events, the almost religious dedication to the flag--these are all things that, if you truly believe in them, have value. But if they're just part of the reflex of belonging to a group, if they exist because we must not question them, they run counter to the idea that started this country.

It has now been 240 years since the words above were written and signed as a statement of clarity and defiance, of purpose and explanation. We celebrate the words and we celebrate the traditions, but we should also keep in our minds the idea that was behind it all.

All people (because even Jefferson, perhaps especially Jefferson, is subject to amendment) begin life as equals. Each person is entitled, by virtue of being a person, to certain basic rights: Life. Liberty. The chance to be happy.

I celebrate those concepts. I am proud of the fact that my country came to being because of them. If I don't stand up when a recording of Kate Smith is played at a baseball game, that is my way of being patriotic. This place was conceived to revel in differences and to question everything. 

I absolutely love that.

This is a revolution, dammit! We're going to have to offend SOMEBODY!--John Adams, "1776"

My Book Publishes Today. That's Not What This is About.

Jeff Cohen

I think I speak for all my DEAD GUY colleagues when I say the events over this weekend in Orlando, FL are unthinkable, unpardonable and absolutely unacceptable. No matter who you might consider voting for it is clear that action needs to be taken. I know what I think should happen. Consider what you think and contact your legislator immediately to let him/her know you will not let the status quo stand. Too many families are crying today. It's not okay and it's not "the cost of doing business." It needs to stop.

 

This weekend saw my wife hit a birthday that had a 0 in it. Since I did not marry a person whose age was in the single digits and we have been married for 29 years, you can probably make a decent estimate of the number involved. That's not relevant.

The point is, whenever such an occasion comes around, I plan something a little more spectacular than I might if the numeral in question ended in a 3 or an 8. One year isn't any different than another really, but we do tend to mark these occasions more significantly than others. Once I organized a surprise birthday party and convinced friends to fly in from Cleveland, Chicago and Honolulu, among other places. The next time a 0 was involved, our children and I took my wife to Rome for a week.

This year, we went to see  Hamilton.

You might have heard of the show. It's gotten a little buzz. So I bought the tickets last November and we sat in seats where only the lower half of the set was visible. They were the last four seats available in the theater. Last November. For a performance that took place this past Saturday.

Well, everything you've heard is true. The blend of hip hop beats, mile-a-minute rap and Broadway song styles is dazzling. The storyline is enlightening and presents history in a way that has already proven to be mesmerizing to young people of all stripes. My daughter teaches algebra to high school students in the Bronx. Not one of them can afford a ticket to Hamilton. If you think they haven't memorized the lyrics to the songs, you are mistaken.

The talent on that stage is astonishing and the inventiveness never stops. Two hours and forty-five minutes go by in a flash. As an audience member, you're moved and amused and devastated and any number of other emotions in rapid succession. I don't know how much play there has been with the facts of the first Treasury Secretary's life, but it rang true even as the style was completely 2016.

And that brought me back to the essence of storytelling and why a good story well told always works. Interest an audience, get their attention, make them care about what goes on. It will take you places and take them places. It will make a difference. It can change the way things are. And as we've seen most painfully, things can use some changing.

By the way, the latest story I have told, WRITTEN OFF, the first Mysterious Detective Mystery, is officially published today. It's gotten some very nice reviews and the readers who have contacted me seemed to have enjoyed it a lot. This is usually the post where I do my best to get you to buy a book, but there was too much going on. And a significant birthday treated to a significant story told in an unusual way.

(We also got as many friends and family as we could to video birthday messages and had my son the filmmaker edit them together into a DVD. And next March my wife and I are going to Hawaii. If the IRS asks you, it's for Left Coast Crime.)

You can't get tickets to Hamilton, but when you can, do. Or buy the soundtrack. But you might want to take a look at WRITTEN OFF, too. After all, there isn't just one story worth telling.

 

P.S.: In order to better celebrate (that is, shamelessly promote) the publication of WRITTEN OFF, I'll be visiting the book club and signing copies at Booktrader of... wait for it... Hamilton (NJ) Wednesday evening at 7:30. Please drop by if you're in the area--all are welcome!

Also, I'll be blogging all over the place this week (what a coincidence, no?):

Cats, Books and More Cats (spoiler alert–there’s no cat in the book): Week of June 12 Speculating on what I’d do if WRITTEN OFF happened to me)

Dru’s Book Musings: June 14 (Publication Day!) A Day in the Life of Rachel Goldman (Plus a book giveaway!)

Jungle Red Writers: June 15 (The Day After Publication Day!) About my dad, not about WRITTEN OFF (too much)

Interview at Shelf Pleasure (hey, we don’t name these things): June 17

Kings River Life: June 18 How do you publicize a nutty book?

Stuff & Nonsense: June 22 On characters doing what they want

This Didn't Actually Happen

Jeff Cohen

So I'm sitting at my desk and the doorbell rings. 

First thing that happens is the dog goes berserk. Of course, our dog goes berserk when a doorbell rings on television and now that we can keep the windows open, pretty much anytime someone walks by the house, so that's not terribly unusual. I tell him to be quiet, he doesn't obey, and I walk to the door. We have our rituals.

After Gizmo finally shuts up I open the door and there stands a woman in her early-to-mid thirties, I'd say, although I'm a terrible judge of age in pretty much everybody, so for all I know she's 108 or 16. The door has a screen in it and I don't want to let the dog out to lick this person within an inch of her life, so I say, "Can I help you?" I mean it literally. I have no idea if I am capable of aiding this woman. Probably she wants to tell me about a political candidate (New Jersey's primaries are tomorrow and for the first time in decades at least one of them actually matters). Probably I want to get back to Words With Friends--hey, it has "Words" in the title, so it's part of my job--and would like to get rid of her ASAP.

"I'm Rachel Goldman," she says.

I chuckle involuntarily. "Sorry," I say. "I don't mean to be rude. I'm a mystery author, and my new book has a character named Rachel Goldman."

"I know," she says. "I'm her." 

I'm so stunned I don't even mention the correct grammar would be, "I am she." Instead my erudite mind comes up with, "Huh?"

"I'm the character in your book. You wrote me. You created me. I don't know what to do.You have to help."

My head starts to hurt. Even Gizmo looks a little confused, but he's a beagle and that's how they look. "In the book, WRITTEN OFF, this is what happens to Rachel," I said. "Her main character, Duffy Madison, shows up at her door." (Actually he calls and then shows up at a book signing, but this is more concise.)

"Yeah," the woman says. "How meta can you get? Can I come in?"

This must be the weirdest campaign pitch in history, but it works; I let the woman into the house. "I'm not sure what it is you're trying to accomplish, Ms..."

"Goldman. Rachel Goldman. You should know. You named me." She sits on the armchair without asking, which is probably what the Rachel Goldman in WRITTEN OFF would do and... wait a minute.

"This is a joke, right?" I ask her. "Somebody who's read the book paid you to come here and pretend to be my character? You're very good, by the way. You must have really studied the book."

"I haven't read it," she answers. 

That's what Duffy Madison tells Rachel in the book. This is getting weird. No. It's been weird since the beginning. Now it's getting eerie.

"Why are you here?" I ask. "You think you're the Rachel Goldman from my book, fine. Go be Rachel Goldman. Duffy comes to her because he's a consultant with the county prosecutor's office and he thinks she can help him solve a missing person case. Why did you come to me?"

She fixes me with a grin. I'm fixed now. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Gizmo thinks bad. 

"The book hasn't even come out yet," the woman points out. "You don't know if people are going to buy it. I don't have any money. I need a place to stay. You got a spare room?"

I think about the room my daughter vacated to go teach in the Bronx. But she might be back in a few weeks, or not, and... Wait. "No," I tell this nut. "You can't stay here. You're wearing nice clothing. Your hair is well coiffed. You're carrying a purse. I'm thinking you got all that stuff somewhere."

She shrugs. "This is what the woman in your book would look like," she says. "I'm her. You didn't write her naked and broke. I'm saying you owe me. I carried a whole novel for you, now I need another week before the book comes out to get myself together. If enough people buy the thing, maybe I'll be super-successful and I'll be out of your hair. If not, well, you can always kill me off in the next one." Her eyes look straight at me like she's challenging me to think of the blood--or ink--on my hands if I decide Rachel (in the Mysterious Detective Mystery series) must die.

"What proof do you have? Anybody could show up at my door and say she came out of my book. How do I know--" 

The doorbell rings and Gizmo loses it again. I hold up a defensive hand to tell "Rachel" I'll be right back and actually step outside the steel door and onto the stoop so I can talk to this new visitor without a beagle baying his brains out in my ear.

This one is a man, tall and thin and looking about six inches above my eyes as he addresses me. "Allow me to introduce myself," he says. "I am Samuel Hoenig."

I bolt back inside and lock the door in his face. Something feels odd. I'm sweating and it's not that hot out. My mind is a little hazy. I shake my head violently to clear it. When I look up, a woman and her tween-age daughter are standing in my living room. "I'm Alison Kerby," she says. "This is my daughter Melissa. There are ghosts here."

Then I sit up in bed, just like in the movies. I look around the dark room and hear the hum of the air conditioner. My wife scuffles a bit on the other side of the bed but stays asleep. I lie back down because there's no one here to see I just woke up and sat bolt upright, making a fool of myself.

I really have to stop eating Raisinets before bed.

 

WRITTEN OFF, the first novel in the Mysterious Detective Mystery series, will be published by Crooked Lane Books next Tuesday, June 14. If you want to get this crazy woman out of my spare bedroom, I hope you'll pick up a copy. (It's also available for pre-order as an audiobook.)

In Defense of the Insufferably Smug

Jeff Cohen

It's been brewing for a long time, but I feel this Memorial Day is the time for me to finally come out of the closet and admit to my true self. Given the level of mockery, disdain and, yes, hatred directed toward my people, there is some risk involved in this revelation. But I am strong enough and sure enough to state it unequivocally and without reservation.

I own a Prius. No. That's not entirely accurate. I own two Priuses. (Prii?)

Comedians, politicians and people with very little tolerance for anything have been decrying the rise of a "PC culture" in America. And no, they don't mean that not enough people are using iMacs. They're complaining that it's not okay for us to use terms considered offensive to some groups, and that jokes aimed in the direction of an ethnicity, religion, disability or point of view are no longer acceptable to the general public.

Personally, I say boo-hoo to that, but it's beside the point.

There are still a few groups who, even in our supposedly too-polite world (has anybody been reading the newspaper lately?) are considered not off-limits. It's still okay, for example, to make fun of overweight people. It's not outside the realm to mock short men. (Stop me if you sense a pattern here.) You want to write characters from the South who are stupid and bigoted? Enjoy.

But undoubtedly one of the weirdest groups to deride is owners of the Prius. The little hybrid car from Toyota that looks a little goofy and isn't built for the Indy 500 is frequently sneered at by comedians. People on the road actually pass us when we're driving well above the speed limit because it's a supposed embarrassment to let a Prius drive faster than you. Owners of said vehicles are asked if it's "really like a regular car" and told that we're smug just for having purchased one.

Some Prius owners are smug. Not as many as those driving Mercedes or Audis, but some. When you sell enough of a product (say, more than three) the chances are good some of the owners are going to be smug. Yes, like to mention that we can get 51 miles to the gallon. Sure, we might feel we're doing more for the environment than a suburban dad driving a Chevy Silverado to his job at an insurance office. Imagine that. Is it possible we think of this dinky little machine as a status symbol? I won't say no. But I bought my first Prius when I was 48 years old. It was my midlife crisis car. Aren't there points for not getting a red convertible?

Worse, I own a Prius c, the even smaller, even weirder-looking version, that can be parked in the glove compartment of most SUVs. People see it, look puzzled, then see the "Prius Hybrid" plate on the back, and I can see their faces change to something approaching disgust. 

Are people subjected to disdain for driving a Honda Accord? Do buyers of Volkswagen Jettas have to justify their purchases on moral grounds? Is it assumed that because you tool around town in a Hyundai Sonata your very personality is in question?

Frankly, it gets a little wearying. The rolling of the eyes. The late-night TV jokes. The insistence of having decent pick-up when up-ramping on the New Jersey Turnpike. All I wanted was a car that would cost less on the weekly gasoline bill and maybe do less damage to the planet. 

Hath not a Prius a fuel pump? Hath not a Prius axles, steering wheels, brake shoes, windshield wipers? Powered with the same (though admittedly less) fuel, damaged with the same sideswipes, subject to the same bird poop, cleaned by the same car wash, warmed and cooled by the same heater and air conditioner, as a gas guzzler is? If you prick our tires, do they not go flat?

In other words, what's your problem?

All I'll say is this: my wife and I took a trip to presidential estates in Virginia one weekend not long ago. We drove from central New Jersey to Alexandria, Virginia (George Washington's Mount Vernon) and then to Charlottesville, Virginia (Thomas Jefferson's Monticello). Then back. Including a few short side trips for dinners and whatnot, that's about 650 miles. 

We filled up before leaving and once before the return trip. That was it. Total gasoline cost: Less than $40. I commuted to Philadelphia the day after we returned. I'm still driving on that tank of gas.

If I'm being smug, I don't want to be... what's the opposite of smug?

 

P.S. Today is Memorial Day in the U.S. It is a somber occasion that acknowledges and honors those who lost their lives in the conflicts their governments undertook. It's not just about barbecue and it's not Veterans Day, which comes in November and honors all those who fought in those conflicts and survived to tell the story. 

P.P.S. Wednesday will be the first day of June. What do you know, WRITTEN OFF by E.J. Copperman comes out in June! If you think I won't be posting about that the next few weeks, you're adorable.

Incognito at the Book Club

Josh Getzler

 

This past Sunday evening, I went to a book club. That's not unusual. What was unusual, however, is this: The club was discussing one of the books I represent, The Yid by Paul Goldberg; and the head of the club had not told the members of the club that I was involved in the publication of the book.

 

It was fascinating--one of the most interesting hours I've spent in ages. I got to do what I almost never get to do: Hear a true focus group of readers discuss a book I worked on without censoring themselves because of any fear of saying the wrong thing or offending me.

 

It was great. First, it was nice--most of the people liked the book without reservation. And the ones who had concerns, were mostly discussing elements we knew were either challenging or had caused the book to be rejected by a good number of editors before Picador took it on: It has a lot of characters, all of whom speak in weird combinations of English, Russian, and Yiddish. Some were frustrated that the storyline was a bit hard to follow at times, that it wasn't always linear, that it veered occasionally into magical realism. One reader wished the book had been written in the original alphabets, so there would be long swathes in Cyrillic and Hebrew letters. I could see our editor blanch.

 

But more often, they praised the writing, the unusual storytelling style, the ambition of the prose, the historical accuracy. I found myself wanting to thank them--or answer the complaints.

 

At the end of the hour, the leader of the club introduced me, and I talked a bit about the publishing history of the book, and asked a couple of questions of my own (Can a book about a group of Jews who reject Judaism; where the only person who says Kaddish is an African-American communist, and the only True Believer a Christian woman; could that book be considered a Jewish book? The answer, unhesitatingly, was yes, which made the author, when I told him, both pleased and kind of bemused.).

 

Then, because it WAS a Jewish book club, reading a Jewish book, we went into the dining room and ate dessert.  

The BEA Blues

Josh Getzler

 

So this week, the Booksellers Expo (BEA) moves from New York City to Chicago, and for the first time in many years, I won’t be attending. Danielle has a client—the marvelous Mimi Cross, speaking on a panel—so she wins, and will be flying off to Chicago on Thursday.

 

I think it was a huge mistake by the BEA to move the expo. I know it’s the way it was done for many years—like Bouchercon, it moved around the country, giving different areas the occasional opportunity to host the publishing industry. It allowed booksellers from the local region to come and spend less money than if they travelled all the way to New York. It’s fair to do it that way.

 

But it’s going to make for a far less interesting fair than when it’s held in New York; and it will have a detrimental effect on the professionals in the publishing houses and agencies based in New York—the vast majority of the industry.

 

Since BEA settled into the Javits Center, publishers and agencies have used the conference not simply to put up booths and showcase their books for the sellers and librarians, but also to allow their employees to walk around the fair and see what the competition has to offer. If only the most senior editors and publicists are attending the fair in Chicago this year, in the past I would walk around Javits and see everyone from editorial assistants on a half-day excursion to four or five mid-level folks standing around and schmoozing. It’s old home week, and it lets the less experienced (if they are paying attention) to get a real sense of the scope and breadth of the industry.

 

And you could get a sense of how Publishing was doing as a whole, too, by the tenor of the floor. Right after the big layoffs of 2008-9, and for a few years following, BEA was tentative and uninspired. Everyone was looking over at the Amazon booth the year it arrived, and walked stealthfully by the digital publishing companies. It wasn’t really until 2014 that I started to see a bounce in the collective step. In Chicago, only the highest-ranking officials will be there, and they will be on message. Booksellers and librarians can create their own buzz, but it’s only a segment of the real story, which will be missing.

 

Booksellers and librarians (and authors), too, enjoyed the excuse to come to New York for a few days, even if they spent half their time either commuting to the Far West Side to the Center or complaining about how horrible Javits is. But publishers feted them, and they got to go see where the pulse of the business in the US really emanates from.

 

This takes nothing away from Chicago itself—I’m really bummed I’m not going to go see my friends there. I’d be writing the same post if it were in Los Angeles or St. Louis or even (God Forbid) Philly. (I joke.) I simply believe that the most valuable locale for the most significant book fair in the US ought to be where the vast majority of people who work in that industry are located.

 

So to everyone on their way—have fun! Post and blog and take pictures and tell me I’m wrong! With all this complaining, I’m insanely jealous. I hope it’s amazing (and if you’re going to be there, go to Mimi’s section!

 

I’ll look forward to next May 31, when BEA returns to New York.

Guest Post: Deafened By The Boss

Joe Newman-Getzler

(Note from Josh: 35 years ago, my cousin Glen took me to the Brendan Byrne Arena somewhere in the swamps of Jersey to see Bruce Springsteen in concert on his tour supporting The River. I had heard about the experience of a Springsteen concert--the energy, the ferver of the fans, the way Bruce left it all on stage. And I left the Meadowlands in awe. This winter and spring, Springsteen has been on the road again, now 67 years old, still playing The River--and so much more. When my son Joe, who's almost 17, was infuriated that my wife and I got tickets to a show without him, we figured out a way to get him a ticket to another concert. We went last night. Here's his report.)

 

      You can only hope to make so many people happy and on such a large scale. On Monday night, I caught Bruce Springsteen on the final stop of his The River tour, in which he and the E Street Band played the entirety of the 1980 double album followed by an hour and a half of bonus goodies. I was accompanied by my dad and some friends from our synagogue who were courteous enough to invite us. Barclays Center was packed to the gills with men and women of all ages (including Chris Christie, apparently), setting an attendance record for the venue. Aside from The River, it was nothing but crowd-pleasing classics and covers. Aside from the ones from The River, there were no bummer tracks to be found - nothing from The Rising, no “Born in the U.S.A.” The Boss came to please, and boy did he.

            Before I proceed with the review itself, let me just add that this was something of a coming-of-age experience for me. It felt almost ceremonial having my father take me: he was a Bruce Springsteen fan years before I was even born, and he was ready to make sure this budding music enthusiast could share in that experience with him. Getting to discuss music with Dad has helped us bond a lot, so getting to share music with as big a venue as this was an experience I’ll never forget.

 

            In short, this was a classic rock fan’s dream come true. Nothing but the hits - “Born to Run,” “Rosalita,” “Thunder Road,” “10th Avenue Freeze-Out,” and lord knows how many others. There were moments of Bruce grabbing his sidemen by the shoulders and having them belt into the microphone with him. He thrust the mic into the crowd, knowing full well that he’d be greeted with a thousand voices knowing each song by heart. Crowd-surfing! Selfie-taking! Covers of The Isley Brothers and John Lee Hooker! Even a transcendent Purple Rain. Inviting fans onstage to dance and sing along. If he was tired, he didn’t show it: it was his last U.S. tour stop and he aimed to please.

            Truth be told, I only heard The River for the first time right before the show. In his opening remarks, Bruce^[1] said it was his attempt at being more mature and introspective following his grittier early records - an album encompassing a thousand emotions and styles at once. Honestly, hearing it live helped me appreciate this a lot more than I did just listening to it. His melody skills evolved, incorporating his earlier Phil Spector-influenced sound while also taking some clear influence from the changing musical trends at the time (Songs like “I’m a Rocker” or “You Can Look [But You Better Not Touch]” would fit in well with the slowly emerging garage rock of the ‘80s). Certainly, it’s got a pretty wide range of styles: slow ballads (“Independence Day”), down-home honky-tonk (“Cadillac Ranch”), gospel (“Fade Away”), and, of course, the tales of troubadours in love/dealing with life that are so very Bruce Springsteen (“The Ties That Bind, “Jackson Cage”). Not every song is created equal - the slower ones tend to drag (note from Josh: One day you'll like them more...)- but with the way the Barclays crowd shouted along with all of them, you’d figure every they were all standards by now.

            Bruce just feels like a guy who's so happy to be doing what he’s doing. For the roughly three and a half hours of non-stop performing, he always had a huge grin on his face, playing his tracks with gusto and palling around with the band and the audience. One especially adorable moment came when, during the requests, he brought up a 10-year-old girl whose sign declared she knew every word to “Blinded by the Light” and put her to the test. Everyone sang along and cheered in encouragement, and it was capped off with her getting her poster signed and the Boss admitting she knew the words better than him. After a while, it felt less like a concert and more like a family reunion. All of us were united by a love for Bruce and his music, so whether we came from New York or New Jersey or Mars, we all shouted along and screamed our lungs out because you can only experience something like this once in a while. He’s a Kennedy Center Honoree and inductee into both the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Songwriters Hall of Fame, but most importantly, Bruce Springsteen is a happy, nice guy who wants to put on a show for us. As long as he has that ability, I say we let him and I hope you can all have an experience like this (with Bruce or otherwise) at some point in your life. Sometimes, the idols are idols for a reason.

            Thanks, Dad!

^[1] For he is Bruce (or The Boss), not Springsteen. Doesn’t matter if you’ve met him or not; it feels like he’s on a first-name basis with everybody.

London Summary

Josh Getzler

 

So another London Book Fair is in the rear view mirror, and I’m sorry to be done with it. This was the most energetic and active of the three Fairs I’ve attended, and the optimism of the professionals there gave everyone a spring in his or her step and a bit more patience for the crowds and the espresso lines.

From the HSG side, we had a busy and productive couple of days. To show you the pace, I’ll just give you a sense of our schedule:

Monday evening: Leave JFK at 8:30 PM

Tuesday morning: Arrive Heathrow at 8:30 AM (In between, read 450 pages of manuscripts, drink a nice red wine, and sleep…45 minutes or so). Speed through Passport Control, crawl through West London in a cab, get to the hotel, shower and change, and arrive at the Olympia in time for a 1 PM meeting. One note: This year, we made two extremely important decisions, which ended up making a huge difference in the experience of the Fair: We rented a table in the Rights Center, so we had a place to sit and meet people, rather than having to run around the room to everyone else’s tables; and Danielle Burby came along. Danielle has taken over our Foreign rights sales, and by tag-teaming the meetings (and occasionally taking simultaneous meetings), we were able both to meet more foreign agents and not do all the talking. So we were fresher at the end of each day, and were able to bounce conversations between us.  

One thing to know about Book Fairs as different from Conferences or gatherings like Bouchercon or Thrillerfest: While those are all about authors meeting each other and agents and editors, this is really a Trade Show. Everyone we met with was either a co-agent from a foreign territory, an editor, or a client. A few (lost) authors approached us to try to pitch us their books, but this (or Frankfurt or Bologna or BEA) is not the place for it. Danielle spent two months coordinating the week, and every minute was pretty much scheduled out.

So anyway, we had our first meeting at 1 on Tuesday, after getting the first of…many coffees. We then had eight meetings. Then went to a reception from a film company. Had a beer, met three old friends in the film world, and had Curry #1 at Woodlands, the best veggie Indian restaurant in London. Then to the hotel, crash, and…

Up on Wednesday. Meeting #1 is breakfast at the hotel with Emad Akhtar, editor extraordinaire at Michael Joseph, who has been working with our client Chris Mooney on going-on three thrillers now. Emad is a fascinating, smart guy—both committed to traditional publishing AND wanting to see it push forward into the modern age. We walked over to the Olympia—a nice 15 minutes, bracing ourselves for the crowds and the chaos.

And for me, the rest of the day was taken up with 14 more meetings, ranging from our brilliant German co-Agent Tilo to an exploratory discussion with a software developer based in Spain with a program designed to make our agency more efficient. Then drinks at a local pub in Notting Hill and another reception. And the day is really taken up with a combination of pitching to co-agents the books we’ve retained the translation rights to, and convincing publishers to do more marketing for the books they’ve already bought. These days, so much of the discussion is about discoverability that it dominates discussion.

Finally we were talked out. And that happens, almost every day, and requires a real unwinding. For me, I often walk the streets of London, just looking around, trying not to think about the day but rather to just relax. I realized I was hungry, found Curry Joint #2, and had a delicious second supper. It’s not that I don’t eat terrific Indian food in New York. It’s just that I really always want to eat it in London. Also fish and chips, although there’s an Irish pub on the Upper West Side that solves that the rest of the year.

The hotel I was staying in had a lovely small bar, and I ended my evening with a solitary nightcap—that Wednesday was one of the most satisfying days of my career—it felt sometime mid-morning that Danielle and I had really hit a stride, and the agents and editors were listening to us, and we just knew we were making our points with clarity and emphasis. We’ll see how that bears out in the next few months, but it was a cool feeling.

Thursday was a sprint—early wakeup and pack, another breakfast, another nice walk to the Olympia, this time dragging my suitcase. Then only four meetings—Danielle had four more after I left—and it was off to the airport (and Duty Free chocolate and booze). We leave with so many new contacts, so much more business, so much follow-up.

Here’s the tally:

30 meetings in 19 hours

15 territories, from Brazil to Russia to Korea to Spain (which has gotten off the canvas to start publishing books again)

Nine coffees, black

12 bottles of water, carbonated

4 sandwiches to complement the rest of our meals

Two receptions

Two Curries

Four different beers

Three different whiskeys

Four NYU Publishing Students who found me on the Floor of the Rights Center and even called me Professor Getzler!

Three changes on the Tube from Piccadilly Circus to Kensington High Street

One great Fair

 

 

I Lie A Lot

Jeff Cohen

Okay. Let me explain why I lie so much.

In my regular walking-around life, I try to tell the truth the vast majority of the time. For one thing, remembering the lie is exhausting, and besides, I have very little to hide. So the actual facts are usually what you'll get from me. 

But I have another, less public life that I don't talk about much. And in that one, I lie my brains out quite frequently. Not on important points, but in the details. I don't have one area of my life I'll tell the truth about in that area. And keep in mind, I write fiction for a living, which is a form of lying (although some will say the real truth comes out in fiction), and that's not even the circumstance I'm discussing.

That's right. I fill out surveys.

I don't remember exactly how I got started, but there are a couple sites that offer "rewards" for answering a few questions, or sometimes a LOT of questions, and I've found the practice to be something of a palate-cleanser when I'm writing. I can stop thinking about what Alison, Samuel, Kay or Rachel is going through at that moment and just respond to prompts that are simple. It's sort of a mindless way to be mindful, and in the end you get some air miles or a gift certificate to an online retailer or two.

So every once in a while I get an email prompting me to check in and see what the topic is going to be today. And almost immediately, I start lying.

The survey generally begins with a screening process. That is, a few preliminary questions are asked to see if the survey subject (that's me) fits the demographic the client (usually a company trying to figure out if people will or already do like its product). So they ask my age, and I tell the truth. I'm 58. Deal with it. They ask my gender. Once again, no reason to deny that I'm male. I figure most of these things are filled out by women, so I'm something of a novelty and that might get me into the survey easier. Fine.

Then the survey will ask for my zip code. I change that one every time it's asked. None of their business exactly where I live. They can ask the NSA if they're that interested. Quite frequently the next question will be about my annual income. No chance they're getting a straight answer on that, because for all I know they're a front for the IRS or people hoping to find rich people's houses to rob on a given evening (in which case I'm actually pretty safe, but that's not the point).

If there's an option to answer, "I'd rather not say," I'll click that, and more times than not I'll immediately get kicked off the survey. That's the way it goes. But sometimes there no such out switch, so I'll vary my answers. Tell them my family of four is subsisting on $5000 a year. Go for the middle of the pack. Close my eyes and click on something, just to see if I'm wealthier than I think I am. I never, ever tell the truth. It's just a rude question. You don't answer those. 

I have no such compunction on questions about my health or sexual orientation. Those come up rarely, but if they're there, I'll usually tell the truth. Usually. 

Now, if I actually get admitted to the survey, I'll answer all the questions about the product and the subject matter honestly. I don't want to screw up the results of the survey or I wouldn't have agreed to do these things to begin with, $10 gift certificate or no $10 gift certificate. They get the straight data from me where it counts. 

But if you want to know my annual income, you'd better be my accountant. And I know what he looks like; he used to be married to my cousin.

Pretty much everything in this post is true, by the way. Almost all of it. As is the fact that WRITTEN OFF is coming June 14 and advance readers are emailing to say they like it, which is always very nice. And the Audible version will be available, but I don't know when exactly. The narrator emailed a few days ago with a question or two.

I told her the complete truth.

 

Dispatch from Blighty

Josh Getzler

One of my favorite weeks has arrived—greetings from Kensington, where I write with a belly full of curry, a whisky by my side, and the first 8 of 26 meetings during the London Book Fair under my belt.

This year, I’ve been joined by Foreign Rights Manager Extraordinaire Danielle Burby, and for the first time we have taken a table at the Fair in order to be better organized (and not spend half the day running around like chickens with our heads cut off…) While next week I’ll be able to give a better indication of international trends based on our conversations, on our first day Danielle and I were both surprised (pleasantly) by the desire expressed repeatedly for books with feminist themes—or at the very least strong female protagonists. Considering the eye-rollingly sexist backlash to the latest Star Wars trailer that indicated the presence of another female leading role, we were delighted to hear several editors request feminist science fiction or fantasy novels.

Generally, the mood is more optimistic about sales possibilities than the past couple of years, even though particularly European publishers still say they aren’t really out of the woods yet. Our vantage point—the GOOD part of Siberia, as we called section 28V—allowed for excellent people watching, and you really can see the value of a convention like this one—it’s old home week, but not a boondoggle. EVERYONE has days packed with meetings.

We saw a couple of authors who conceivably mistook LBF for Thrillerfest attempt to pitch editors or agents, who really were having none of it. When we were sitting looking straight ahead, we were simply girding ourselves for the next hour and a half of meetings. There really wasn’t even much time to wander the main publisher booths on the Floors—we’ll do that during an hour off tomorrow.

And once the day was over, it was time for a stop-off at a film-world party in Soho (not in the rain) and a supper of dosas and chana masala at Woodlands, my favorite restaurant in London. We know that before we blink twice we will be on the plane back to NYC. Our hope is that we will bring home some knowledge and the prospects for deals with us, along with magazines featuring 1D, coffee from Fortnum and Mason, and perhaps a duty-free Macallan. More next week.

Cheers!

The People Vs. O.J.? Nah. I Saw the Original Cast

Jeff Cohen

I am very clear about this: I make things up for a living. That is to say, nothing you'll read from me (with the possible exception of this blog and my two non-fiction books) is true. None of it happened and none of those people--again, with one exception I used with permission--is real. My job, as I see it, is to amuse and entertain. Reality just gets in the way of that.

That's why I have not seen any episodes of The Making of a Murderer or The Jinx. I have not listened to Serial, either "season." I'm not watching any of the current The People vs. O.J. Simpson. I'm not even a fan of In Cold Blood in any incarnation.

True crime honestly doesn't interest me. I understand that some people love the details of the case and want to know whether the accused (there always seems to be an accused) "did it," whether the victim will--despite remaining dead--get justice. I'm not saying those people shouldn't find all this stuff absolutely riveting. It's a perfectly legitimate form of storytelling and for those who find something in it, more power to you.

It's just not for me, that's all. 

I do tend to read non-fiction, partly because fiction reading has become something of a busman's holiday for me. I've always said that I don't read much crime fiction because I don't want someone else's voice in my head when I'm writing (and these days, luckily, I'm pretty much always writing), and I do mean that. Even subconsciously there should be no plot point seepage into my own work. I wouldn't ever steal an idea from another writer on a conscious level but I don't want even the possibility to exist.

Also, one of the reasons a person gets into this game is that nobody's writing the book you want to read, so you have to write it yourself. And that is not insignificant. I do write the kind of book that keeps me interested, largely because you deal with it for a few hours but I have to live with the story for months. I trust that by not boring myself I will hopefully not bore the reader.

But the non-fiction I read tends to be in the areas of historical profiles or biographies. True crime never enters into the mix. Frankly, it's a little depressing for me to begin with and I'm not interested in speculating (as so much of the current crop seems to expect the consumer to do) on whether the party at the center of the investigation is guilty or not. One of the things I've always liked about crime fiction is that we pretty much always get to find out who the culprit is at the end of the story. There is rarely a question left open. In fact, editors have been very clear with me about not leaving anything dangling at the end of a book, even in a series novel. So you get your closure no matter what.

Also, true crime tends to deal with the sensational events, almost always murders, that are meant to pique the public's imagination through the hideous nature of the crime and/or the spectacularly bizarre personalities at the center of the issue. In that way true crime is not all that different from crime fiction. We focus on strange, or at least unusual, crimes (almost always murders although I'd love to write one without) and oversized personalities. The problem is, as Joseph Mankiewicz once noted, "the difference between life and movies is that a script has to make sense and life doesn't".

I'm not interested in getting that close to a sociopath. I prefer a little humor in what I use to fill that "free time" I keep hearing about. For me, the idea of getting that deep into a situation in which someone actually lost his or her life is deflating: Maybe the guilty party is caught; maybe not. Either way, the victim stays dead and I find that disturbing. Yes, people should be exposed and punished when they do something wrong, especially that wrong. But does it make everything okay? Not really.

In fiction, we can make the victim someone nobody liked or someone inconsequential. If we want, we can invite the reader (audience) to care about the victim and offer some idea of restoration in the criminal's comeuppance. A writer can focus on any aspect of the story (I prefer to emphasize character and hopefully humor) and downplay others (like death and terror). That's me. I'm not suggesting it has to be you.

So I won't be checking in on any of the real-life murderers on TV these days. In fact, I don't watch any "reality programming" because I can't think of one that's not insulting to my intelligence or simply uninteresting. Again, this is a matter of personal taste. I will watch some stuff I can't even call a "guilty pleasure" and wouldn't recommend to you at all. But it fills a need for me (and no, I'm not talking about porn). 

That's why I'm not a fan of the true crime genre. So if you refer to whomever that murderer who was made might be or some other "famous" killer and I look blank, you'll know why.

In my head, I'm busy making up something else.

 

P.S. Opening Day is 7 days from today.

When Tragedy Strikes

Josh Getzler

Well, my plan was to write a nice, light post about the end of my semester at NYU, where my students were excellent and my teaching felt a lot more comfortable than last year...and I woke up to another terrorist attack, and terrible, stupid, politicized reactions to it in the US.  So I'll hold off a week, kiss my family, and think of the good in people.

 

Gonna Be in Ewing on Sunday?

Jeff Cohen

I'll be speaking on How to Make (Fictional) Murder Funny at the Ewing Branch Library in Ewing, NJ this Sunday (March 20) at 2 p.m., so please register and drop on in! I'll be signing books and talking to the audience afterward. Love to see you there if you're in the area! Only 33 spaces left, so make sure you register!

Commissioner! Light the Jon Signal!

Jeff Cohen

In the current American election cycle--one which is almost awe-inspiring in its horrific weirdness--there has come to the forefront one truth that any thinking person from this country or any other must embrace in order to save the nation and possibly the future of humans on Earth.

We need Jon Stewart back.

Since the maestro of fake news left the airwaves last August, a number of substitute anchors have attempted, with varying degrees of success, to fill his spot. All of them are good and some approach the brilliance Stewart achieved virtually every day, four days a week, for more than 16 years. But none of them is filling the void. This election--and events in the world as a whole--are just too frightening for our rising terror to be assuaged by anyone except the master himself.

I'm not talking about the late-night talk shows with a band, a desk, a curtain and the host who makes the occasional topical joke during the monologue segment before asking the latest actor about his new television show. I'm looking for someone who can make an audience (mostly me) laugh uproariously on a reliable basis when acting as the country's steam valve, letting us feel the outrage and the absurdity at the same time. Someone who can leave me after a half hour actually feeling less bombarded by the events themselves.

That's happening now, but not enough. Let's examine the contenders.

In the wake of Stewart's abdication a number of his ex-colleagues have attempted to make their own mark on the state of fake news, and all of them have done a good job. A couple have done remarkably well, in fact. But not well enough. 

Easily the best of the bunch at this moment (these things are fluid) is John Oliver's Last Week Tonight, a Daily Show-esque endeavor from the British expat who was a longtime correspondent with Stewart and has not been at all shy about noting that in his work. Oliver has refined the process on his HBO show, delivering far more international stories than Stewart ever attempted and devoting a healthy segment each week to one issue that is examined in depth. It is the best example now on television of a program that can make you laugh helplessly while growing increasingly angry over something you might not have completely understood before. Last Week Tonight is sublime in ways that even Stewart's Daily Show could not be, and that is wonderful. The problem: It airs only once a week, and it takes long hiatuses between seasons. Once the half-hour is over, you have six days and 23.5 hours until you can feel this way again. Staggeringly great, but not enough.

Still, there is The Nightly Show with Stewart's "Senior Black Correspondent" emeritus Larry Wilmore. After a somewhat awkward start in early 2015, Wilmore has been steadily improving to the point that he now is a reliable source of necessary outrage and laughs. His ensemble of Nightly Show contributors includes some real gems in people like Mike Yard and Grace Parra, among others. Some of the sketches still go on too long and the panel in the third segment of each show remains kind of odd, but Wilmore himself makes dents in the lack of Jon Stewart, and does so, thankfully, four times a week, just as often as Stewart used to work. It's still a work in progress but it's one that's showing a lot of promise and is still pretty new. Very encouraging.

Much, much newer is Full Frontal with Daily Show alumna Samantha Bee, who has mostly abandoned her character from that show and sharpened her criticism to be more often straight on rather than constantly ironic. Both work for her, but she's in the first few shows of a new series and still has to work out some kinks. A lot has been made of her being "the only woman in late night," which is true but is not the point of her show, and that's good. While Bee's onstage rants are working, they're coming a little too fast to absorb all of it, and some of the sketches are not working as well. But the field pieces where she went to talk to actual Syrian refugees were informative and wonderful while still being funny. The show has to learn to skewer the politicians it gets in its sights (which it normally does) and not the "civilians" who might not be as involved in the problem (something it does occasionally). It's very promising, but too small a sample to know exactly how things will play out. Definitely worth watching every week.

And that brings us to what is, alas, the least impressive of the bunch so far. While still a good stage for satire and commentary, The Daily Show with Trevor Noah is not close to living up to its predecessor yet. And it's unfair to make the comparison, but everybody is doing exactly that. The styles are a study in contrasts: Where Stewart would be incensed, Noah is amused by the crazy Americans. Stewart was a participant, an advocate; he was one of us. Noah is an interested observer from elsewhere who rightfully finds us to be odd and irrational but isn't invested. He'll point out what's crazy, but it doesn't bother him. When Jon Stewart built up a head of steam it was a joyous thing to behold. Trevor Noah unleashes one-liners and many of them are clever, but they don't really build emotionally because he's not emotional about them. He laughs at his own jokes. Again, not bad by any means. The jokes are still funny and Noah is charming, even if he goes too easy on most of his interview subjects, something Stewart learned not to do. It'll be interesting to see how much different this show looks a year from now when the host is more comfortable with the job. My guess: It will be more aimed at people considerably younger than me and cover more international news. That's fine, but it's only a guess. Another guess: Trevor Noah will not be doing this for 16 years.

We need Jon Stewart back because none of these substitutes fills the enormous vacuum he created in leaving. And there is good, if somewhat vague, news: Apparently the man himself is working on short pieces that will be released by HBO, but digitally on various platforms that I, as an old person, will need help finding. There's no public timetable and no word on what the format might be, but at least there will be communication from Planet Jon and hopefully--dare one say it--he might make this election cycle just a tiny bit less terrifying.

If that's possible.

 

P.S. Opening Day is in 28 days. It can't possibly happen fast enough.

Don't Persuade! Attack!

It’s that slow time of year. After the holiday rush, January and February are a drag. It may be a great time to stay inside and read, but I think most people are catching up on the “to-be-reads” or wallowing in all the gift books they received. Skies are gray; cold and wind are not the ideal conditions for shoppers to stroll our lovely little town looking at the cute boutiques.

Despite the overall dullness, there has been a lot of excitement in this little town of mine. Not the kind that brings tourists – the kind that pits otherwise nice, sane residents and business owners against one another. It’s not even a clear “residential versus business” battle; it’s a clash of outrageous personalities, fed by the opportunity to vent ad infinitum on social media, and those who line up on each side based on half-truths and untruths meant to sway – who? Sounds a lot like our national political situation, doesn’t it?

The details of the controversy are too convoluted to be explained in a blog post, and would only be read by those of you who have run out of Ambien. Whichever side is right or wrong, life will go on. What concerns me is that the resolution of the issues in dispute will have less impact than the way the debate was waged. Some parties took to Facebook, in local “groups” formed to convey information (e.g., “When is the power coming back on?” (Not even the electric company knows); “Why is the highway closed?” (Another trucker went through a New Jersey circle at high speed, load shifted); “Who knows a good dermatologist?” (Not me)) and used these groups as forums to personally attack others who disagreed with them. These were not anonymous trolls trying to be snarky or hurtful because they had nothing better to do with their time. These were clearly identified residents, business owners, and town officials. The controversy will subside, but I am not sure the damage can be undone.

In all fairness, most of those who were attacked refrained from responding in kind, and wrote only about their views on the matter at hand. Those of us who stayed out of the fray but read avidly formed opinions about the attackers that were more telling than any of the points they were trying to make about their targets, and gained new respect for those we were being told were idiots. I find it hard to believe that those graceful “idiots” who seemed to slough off the insults weren’t deeply hurt. The targets may not respond in kind or seek revenge, but I don’t see how they will ever view their tormentors as people they can trust or work with in the future.

What’s happening at the national level is troubling to me, but I am not impacted in my daily doings by the nastiness. I just turn off the news and pray that the sane majority turns out to vote in November. The local controversy, though, has gotten me thinking about what really is happening in our world. We seem to have all sorts of programs in the schools to teach the young that bullying is wrong. If a student in our high school had posted about a fellow student in the vitriolic tone that some adults in this community used, he or she would be subject to all sorts of discipline. Are we teaching them that it’s OK to do this when you’re an adult? Children learn from the way we behave, not from lectures on good behavior. Yet the abusive behavior is rampant in the media (even without the politicians). Reality shows seem to glorify “getting over” on someone, or at least out-shouting them. Ditto the talking heads on the news networks supposedly presenting opposing views, but actually trying be the loudest and most noticed. As the war for ratings continues, the ante is upped daily. The only good part is that the talking without listening, and at the same time, leads to such cacophony that nothing is heard by the viewer.

It does seem that the atmosphere of attack that we live in has actually convinced some otherwise intelligent people that the way to achieve one’s goals is to assault, at least verbally, anyone in the way, even if that “anyone” happens to have the authority to stop you in your tracks. I sat at a town council meeting Monday evening where the issue at hand was whether to disband the business development group that has been doing good work, but has refused to be accountable to the town council which is funding it with tax dollars. Many parties spoke for each side, and the council members listened, even extending the time for public comment until everyone was heard. I was appalled when one of the trustees of the business development group, who had been told in an earlier gathering of supporters of his own position that he should not speak because his Facebook posts had made him toxic, got up. As he attempted to plead his case to those who would decide, he made a nasty personal comment to one of the council members, whom he had attacked relentlessly online, and who had not responded to him, and followed it up with a “gotcha” grin. He seemed surprised when the vote went against him. Does anyone really believe that if your snark is clever enough, you’ll be rewarded?

Several commenters at this meeting suggested mediation as an alternative to disbanding a group which has done some fine work. Sadly, things had reached a state similar to many couples on the brink of divorce; there is so much anger that any counseling or mediation is impossible. This anger was fueled by the examples we see daily of winning by bullying and the ease with which this can be accomplished on social media. Instead of telling my friends in conversation what a jerk I think my neighbor is, I can now tell the entire community. I win! I show how clever I am by humiliating someone I have to live near and work with. And then wonder why nothing gets done.

On a brighter note, there was another major issue decided at Monday evening’s town council meeting, and this one with little controversy. An aging historic hotel in the center of town has been vacant for eight years, and has gone through two unsuccessful attempts to redevelop it. Despite the display of childish behavior by some of our citizens over the last few months, a developer presented beautiful plans which seem to have a chance of succeeding. He also has the resources to accomplish it. The lovely old building will be leveled, but it has been so neglected it’s about to fall down. Sentiment over the years has been to preserve it, but even those of us who love old landmarks have faced the reality that it cannot be saved and has become an eyesore dragging down the main street. Sentiment at the meeting was to mourn our loss but move on. There was actually a lot of mature adult behavior in this case. I guess there is hope! (If you want to see where all the famous reporters stayed during the Lindbergh trial, visit Flemington soon. Or you can see where the photographers did their work by visiting my shop.)

A Rainy Night in February

Josh Getzler

 

And yet I just wrote a memo indicating that June 1 was too early to expect something to happen because "Publishing at its best isn't that efficient."

 

Spring is around the corner. Pitchers and Catchers have reported. And just think: By the time June 1 comes around, the primary season will be over and the torture that is this political winter will be over.

 

In the meantime, here is an onion ring that is in the shape of the Obama logo.

 

 

The No Fun...Week

Josh Getzler

 

So in the past week...

 

...Two of my daughters got the Norwalk Virus and we did a lot of head-holding and commiserating...

 

...The dog developed a parasite (didn't hold head...lots of tummy-rubs)...

 

...Oldest Child realized he was a second-semester junior in high school and freaked out a bit...

 

...the Super Bowl was unwatchable...

 

...as was the political campaign...

 

BUT...

 

...Next week, the dog goes to obedience school (we call it Dogwarts)...

 

...my wife and I will spend Valentines Day night watching a Smiths cover band called the Sons and Heirs (because that's how we roll)...

 

...and then the Boy and I get to go visit colleges together. He's preparing 19 hours of mixtapes...

 

...and then we will have a book party at Book Culture in NYC for The Yid (where there ought to be vodka, or at least borscht)...

 

Life will be sweet.

A Shout-Out

Josh Getzler

Sometimes, you can have a terrific book--beautifully written, compelling plot, interesting topic--and it is published...and nothing happens. Sometimes it's the wrong time for the genre, sometimes it's the wrong time of year, sometimes there has been transition in the publishing house and the project falls through the cracks. And sometimes everyone does everything "right" and you simply don't get the love.

 

And then, every so often, you get an editor who gets the book, positions it correctly, and has some magical power to make the universe align and the dominos fall.

 

This morning, Paul Goldberg's novel of Soviet Russia, THE YID, was published, to great acclaim in the New York Times, New Yorker, NPR, Washington Post, and many other Name Brand outlets. And the person responsible for that magic (beside Paul, who is an insane genius), is Picador's Director of Publicity--and Paul's editor--James Meader. From understanding how to pitch this unusual book to booksellers and his own sales force, to keeping a periodically frantic agent under control, James has been an incredible force for good the past year.

 

So congratulations to Paul--this was a marathon project, and we've crossed the finish line. And Thank You to James, for everything.

 

 

 

 

And Nastrovia to both of you.