Last week, with the announcements of the Quills, Booker, and Nobel winners (see the blogs Noble Choice and Bookered Up by Barbara Hoffert), the sky was raining awards. As each press release landed in my Outlook, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who in this week of winningest winners are the loserest losers?” You might be mulling over the political nature of the Nobel or sampling the splendors of Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, but I’m stuck on literary bombs big and small, those books that suck harder than a newborn.

Of course, “bad” is a relative term. Who am I to label a terrible book when it might be someone else’s manna? Why don’t I just get off my high horse and form a democratic committee a la Nobel or the National Book Awards to glean the worst of the worst, a kind of Golden Raspberry Awards for the book market? (I’ve heard of the J. Gordon Coogler Award for the Worst Book of the Year, but that’s limited to “liberal” books a la the Daily Show with Jon Stewart’s America: A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy.) As crazy as it sounds (books need good press, silly book review editor!), such a body may not be such a bad idea considering how much crap is issued. Maybe publishers need to be called on their more abysmal choices (Nicole Riche’s “novel,” The Truth About Diamonds, from Regan Books comes to mind). One could make the argument that since the number of readers is plummeting, not to mention the number of books sold, we don’t need as many as 175,000 books published a year (my stat comes from a 2005 Book Industry Study Group report). Quality over quantity would make my job a helluva lot easier and enjoyable, even if it wouldn’t translate to better returns.

Then again, the reality is that a good many people love to hate, so maybe, just maybe The Biggest Losers of the Book World Awards could actually generate sales. I have several friends who go to movies and even buy them on DVD because critics railed against them so vehemently. Sometimes lofty praise rubs consumers the wrong way. Sometimes bad literature makes for high entertainment.

As I rounded the 3.5-mile mark of the annual five-mile American Cancer Society Making Strides Against Breast Cancer sweat-fest Sunday, October 15, a young woman came up on my left shoulder and said, “I’ve been trying to catch up with you.” In retrospect, I realize the prophetic nature of that brief phrase. In truth, we were both walking alone because our companions couldn’t make it. I was wearing my pink baseball cap that proclaims Survivor on the back, so she figured we might walk the rest of the way together.

We exchanged the usual breast cancer pleasantries: Where was your surgery, who is your surgeon, where is your oncology center, how is your treatment going? She had just finished her first postsurgical year, was through with chemotherapy and radiation, and was now on the five-year protocol of Tamoxifen. I switched to my 11-year veteran cap, and we chatted. Her aunt and my mother were both victims of the disease at a time when women were too ashamed to say the word cancer. She acknowledged being quiet by nature, but after getting information on support groups and programs, she now found herself talking more about her situation, finding out as much as she could. I guess that explains her approaching a complete stranger at a fundraising walk.

Her mentioning information reminded me of the annual roundup of breast cancer books that I write for Library Journal each fall. Libraries and librarians need to promote these books, especially this month, along with their expertise in helping women (and men) find the resources they need. Librarians must do what they do best: bring people and information together. Breast Cancer Awareness month is October. In libraries, the calendar reads “Information Always,” so get out that information. Then women like my walking companion won’t have to rely on the kindness of strangers.

Sitting on my desk this afternoon are two newly arrived  galleys waiting to be assigned for review. Both fiction titles are by popular best-selling authors. Unfortunately for me, both books have November publication dates. We may be living in a digital age of instant gratification, but our old-technology print magazine follows a production schedule that requires the editors to close an issue well in advance  of the actual  issue date. This means we closed the Nov. 1 on October 9 and we are scheduled to finish the Nov. 15 issue on Oct. 23. The next issue for which I could possibly assign these two books is January, definitely too late for collection development librarians who needed reviews of these hot fiction titles two months ago.

One solution to our late galley dilemma is Barbara Hoffert’s popular Prepub Alert column, which previews the hottest fiction and nonfiction books four months in advance of their publication dates.  A quick scroll online through the August 15 column finds that the two galleys in question, Dean Koontz’s lastest Odd Thomas novel, Brother Odd, and Jonathan and Faye Kellerman’s second city-based novella collection, Capital Crimes,were highlighted. As I know many libraries will have already ordered these books as a result, I could discard these galleys, unreviewed, without a guilty conscience, and save precious  reviewing space in our print magazine for notable literary debuts.  On the other hand, there are those libraries with limited budgets who are waiting for reviews that advise them on how many copies of a popular author’s latest book they should purchase or whether they should even buy at all.  

This is where LJ’s new online Xpress Reviews—First Look at New Books come in. Posted every Tuesday on our website are timely reviews of both late-breaking titles and well-in-advance forthcoming titles. While some book publicists have complained that we are “ghettoizing” their books by posting web-only reviews, LJ editors beg to differ. This is not a substitute for print reviews but rather an additional tool to help collection development librarians do their job better. Besides, isn’t it better to have an online review than to be ignored completely? So look for Xpress reviews of Koontz and the Kellermans in the next few weeks. And librarians, while you are marking up your print copies of LJ, don’t forget to check online every Tuesday for reviews of other worthwhile titles.  

Hello all!

Ann Kim here, Special Projects Coordinator and Editor of the Graphic Novels column and the Xpress (web-only) GN reviews. And yes, the post title is grossly misleading. For the moment.

Just wanted to let everyone (who’s interested) know a few things: the Graphic Novel column runs 6x/year in the Jan., Mar. 15, May 15, July, Sept. 15, and Nov. 15 issues of Library Journal. Additionally, we’ve expanded GN coverage on our website in our free-to-all-great-and-small Xpress Reviews section. For your edification, the following GN titles have been reviewed for this week:

1) Baek, HyeKyung. Bring It On! Vol. 3. ICE Kunion. (manhwa*)
2) David, Peter (text) & J.K. Woodward (illus.). Fallen Angel: To Serve in Heaven. IDW Pub. (GN)
3) Kim, Mi-Kyung. 11th Cat. Vol. 3. ICE Kunion. (manhwa)
4) Mizuki, Shioko. Crossroad. Vol. 3. Go Comi! (manga)
5) Shin, Ji-Sang & Geo. Chocolat. Vol. 3. ICE Kunion. (manhwa)
6) Waltz, Tom (text) & Casey Maloney (illus.). Children of the Grave. IDW Pub. (GN)
7) Wilson, F. Paul (text) & Matthew Smith (illus.). The Keep. IDW Pub. (GN)
8) Mallory, Michael. X-Men: The Characters and Their Universe. Hugh Lauter Levin. (About Comics)

*manhwa = Korean comics; reads left-to-right like the good ol’ English way 

Aaaaand, if you or another librarian is interested in learning more about graphic novels and collection development, there’s a wonderful, informative, civilized group of kool kats at the Graphic Novels in Libraries listserv. You can’t go wrong.

But quick question here: How many of you have or work in libraries that have separate Adult GN sections? To me, it seems like it should be given, considering that Graphic Novels Are Not a Genre, They Are a Format (or GNANAGTAAF for short. Um, yeah). But I consistently find that not many libraries do.

Everyone have a lovely weekend,
AK

After all those years of failing to pick the winner (see my blog “Trilling with the Quills”), I finally got it right: Turkish author Orhan Pamuk has won the Nobel prize in literature. And not a moment too soon: Pamak has been deeply at odds with his own government for speaking out forthrightly about the Armenian genocide it does not choose to acknowledge, and the prize gives international weight to his struggle for free speech and national responsibility. Over the years, we have heard increasingly that the Nobel prize has become politicized, with some winners evidently picked because they fit an agenda. I want to beg that, appearance notwithstanding, Pamak doesn’t fit that category. He’s a lyric, nuanced writer who does what great writers all do: he opens up windows, shaking our beliefs and bringing us a new world. Let other winners grind their axes or fill their little niches; Pamak calls to mind giants like Russian poet Osip Mandelstam or Spanish poet Federico García Lorca; without writing rhetoric, without turning politician himself, he offers provocative and affecting fiction that upends society. It’s good to be reminded, as we surface from our escapist reading jags, that literature can make a difference. 

If you’re betting on book award winners—and you can; note that according to top British betting site Ladbrokes.com, odds are three to one that Turkish author Orhan Pamuk will win the Nobel Prize in literature tomorrow—don’t look at me. Okay, I was rooting hard for last year’s National Book Award winner in fiction, William Vollman’s Europe Central, and for the previous year’s poetry winner, Jean Valentine’s Door in the Mountain. But generally my favorites don’t come up winners. So it was with some trepidation that I approached the list of Quill Book Award winners—so many categories, so many opportunities for egg on the face.

First the good news. I was thrilled to see Al Gore win in the history/current events/politics caregory for An Inconvenient Truth, though I wish more people had voted for him in another, bigger race way back when. It’s good to know that people (dare I say) warm to perceptive discussions of current events; as LJ’s book-buying surveys have shown over the last few years, books in this area are trumping diet manuals and pop fiction at libraries nationwide. And, yes, I’m thrilled that John Grogan’s Marley and Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog got not one but two nods, for biography/memoir and audiobook. Among the dozens of books I have had the good fortune to introduce at FOLUSA-sponsored panels at the American Library Association convention over the years, this one remains at the top—funny, unsentimental, and a great read. Mine, by the way, is just about the world’s best dog, but I can still relate.

In my own assigning areas of fiction and poetry, alas, I came up short, though I’ll bow to the people’s choice. Winning in a fiction free-for-all is always A Dirty Job, and Christopher Moore had to do it, but now and again a literary title of historical significance captures the public’s imagination, and I was hoping that this was the year for Irène Némirovsky’s Suite Française. In general, this was a good list; I’m still looking hard at contender David Mitchell’s Black Swan Green and Sarah Gruen’s Water for Elephants for our best books compendium and would recommend that others look hard, too; Mitchell is a stylist with subtance who belongs up there with the best British novelists, and it’s gratifying to see an affecting tale like Gruen’s reach bestsellerdom.

A President’s poet, Maya Angelou not surprisingly was crowned people’s poet this year; it’s a diadem she already wears anyway, though I was thinking maybe Mary Oliver would be borrowing it this year. I can see why the meditative Oliver and the all-embracing Angelou would be popular, but I do wish that readers at large would get over their fear of American poetry. Edgy, lyric, and engaging, books like Jane Hirschfield’s After, Louise Gluck’s Averno, Carl Philips’s Riding Westward, and Kevin Young’s For the Confederate Dead could have been contenders. Check them out if you haven’t already, and while you’re at it, check out finalist Debra Dean in the debut category. Since nearly everyone loves to cook (just count me out), Julie Powell’s Julie and Julia did not shock as a winner, but Dean’s The Madonnas of Leningrad is at once elegent yet riveting fiction. 

Whatever anyone says, book awards are worthwhile because they make people talk about books, and they give critics one more way to spin good books at readers. The Quill Book Awards is an interesting means of expanding the literary conversation, though this year I could have done with a few less obvious choices (but, then, it’s not my choice). I wish there were more forums for promoting the little gems that aren’t so heavily marketed or don’t necessarily soar to the top of the best sellers lists. In fact, I’m working on an idea for that in LJ right now. In the meantime, in case you’re wondering, I’m rooting for Pamuk tomorrow. Just don’t bet on it.

Award season has begun, what with the Booker announced yesterday and the NBA finalists coming out later today, but the Quills, announced last night are unique, not least because it’s one award where librarians get the kudos they deserve in the book world. Many librarians vote on the awards, now in its second year, and the winners noticed, as many of their remarks included librarians among the list of thank yous. About half-way through the ceremony, Harry Connick, Jr. talked about the reopening of the Alvar Street Branch in New Orleans, and a video clip of the library played to a warm reception.

Some half-dozen LJ staffers attended, all in black tie (an uncommon enough event for any editor) and ready to compare thoughts on the winners. If you’re ever betting on the winners and you’re next to LJ editor Wilda Williams, here’s some advice: go with what she says. As we tag-teamed our way through the 19 categories, Willy got six of the winners cold and had strong instincts on several others. It’s true, she picked Calvin Trillin’s A Heckuva Job in the humor category, but right before the winner was announced she said, “You can’t underestimate Madea.” Sure enough, Madea won for Don’t Make a Black Woman Take Off Her Earrings, and that title also won book of the year. Later, when Marley and Me was up for biography/memoir (it had already won for audio), she added, “You can’t compete with a dead dog.” And she was right again. 

We’re in the midst of the book awards season, which should have an air of finality (and the winner is…). But for me this year’s Booker Award winner, Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss, just raises more questions. Does it really matter that Desai is the youngest woman ever to win the award, as the New York Times reported? Is Desai’s relative youth, and the relative obscurity of the other contenders, a (good) sign that the awards committee made an effort to look for vigorous new literature—or what was good, regardless—as opposed to settling for name authors? Or were committee members just being in-your-face? Was Desai’s evocation of India really better than David Mitchell’s Black Swan Green, Peter Carey’s Theft: A Love Story, James Lasdun’s Seven Lies, or Claire Messud’s The Emperor’s Children, all longlistees (not even final contenders) that were excellent reads (and personal favorites)? What does it mean to be better, anyway? Actually, our reviewer found Desai’s book a snore; is this evidence of healthy diversity in reviewer opinion, differences in taste across the Atlantic, or a real rift between high-profile judges and daily readers (our reviewers are mostly in-the-trenches librarians)? And why does the Man Booker Prize get featured in the A section of the New York Times, complete with a big picture of Desai flashing her winning smile, when I remember as National Book Critics Circle president battling to get Times coverage for our awards, which always ended up in the B section (sans photos)? If nothing else, awards have the advantage of making one think; I’m glad to give The Inheritance of Loss another look. And now on the next awards.
 

In the thick of an assigning, an LJ Book Review editor will sort through several dozen stacks of manuscripts and galleys (bound, often cleaner manuscripts that resemble trade paperbacks). The sheer volume of submissions—1000 a week last I heard—more often exhausts than exhilirates. Not helping the situation is the ever shrinking amount of time set aside for assigning. Like lots of other people in 21st-century corporate America, book review editors have had to take on more administrative duties and work double time to generate web-specific content. While our colleagues at PublisherWeekly can be spied reading at their desks (my brown eyes have turned permanently green with envy), we LJ workhorses must manhandle and skim galleys and press materials—there are simply too many bloody books and not enough bloody time. I say this not to complain but to clue curious readers into our workflow.

When I tell people what I do for a living, most still respond with something along the lines of, “So you get to read all day? You lucky, girl, you!” I quickly shatter those assumptions of gentlewomanly glamour. On any given Tuesday, you will not find me in a tweed Brooks Brothers pencil skirt and white button-up cozying up to my desk lamp with Cormac McCarthy’s latest. Chances are, I’m editing, copyediting, emailing, and blog brainstorming all at the same time in Gap khakis and a T-shirt/cardigan combo. Meanwhile, I have to wonder, “What’s it like for the Big Guns at the New York Times? Do they have the luxury of reading, even rereading on the clock?”

While I had the pleasure of meeting a Times managing editor at a BookExpo America event two years ago, before I could pick her brain, a swarm of publicists descended on her. For clues, I am then left to read the New York Times Book Review, something I may do four times a year. This past Sunday, I read the cover piece on Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and the composite review of Donald Spoto’s Enchantment: The Life of Audrey Hepburn and William J. Mann’s Kate: The Woman Who Was Hepburn. These books have either September or October pub dates, so it does appear, at least in these cases, that the Times editors are not very rushed. My impression is that they rarely review books before they come out, which blows my mind. LJ, like most of the other book trades, is in the prepublication review business. We want to mint our word before anyone else so librarians know what’s worth purchasing. That the Times would rather come in last is somehow gratifying. They’ve got pedigree up the masthead, but we’ve got crazy workflow and a hunger to communicate fast.