Amusing little Gawker piece on various types of Bookus Editorus. A Taxonomy of Book Editors
My time in and exposure to actual book editing have been fairly limited so far, but it seems pretty spot-on. Good to know that things in the trade book world will be no less neurotic.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Nora Ephron, Coolidge Corner
At the average author reading/lecture, a person could go an indefinite amount of time without hearing the phrase "baby fish mouth." But last Thursday at the Coolidge Corner Theater, it happened in the first five minutes.
Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that said author was Nora Ephron: writer, Watergate confidante, and expert on 80s-era relationships. Ms. Ephron spoke in Brookline last Thursday, as part of her tour for her latest book, I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman. (This was definitely one of those cases where I was drawn by the author more than the book. I may be a cranky old lady in a lot of ways, but essays on middle-aged womanhood? Yeah, not so much. However, one look at the crowd proved how much I was in the minority, being under forty and all. And men? I saw three, tops.)
Also, the words were not spoken by Ephron herself. That might have made it all right somehow, but alas....The event-planning folks at Brookline Booksmith tend to get cutesy in their intros for bigger-name authors. If you've written a low-level collection of poetry, chances are you'll get a standard intro. But if you've been a successful screenwriter with mega-familiar titles connected to your name like so many unpaid parking tickets, people are gonna want to spit your words back in your face. It just happened to be more painful than usual here. Monotone Booksmith Guy and More Monotone Booksmith Gal attempted banter. Yes, banter. This might have been okay if they'd just tried to emulate Meg Ryan & co., and written something brief and vaguely charming, but they opted instead to take direct lines from When Harry Met Sally. "You made a woman meow?" isn't nearly as funny when delivered from a podium. After about ten minutes (seriously) of this--and long after the whole thing lapsed into forgettable lines from Sleepless in Seattle--the crowd snapped. And trust me, you do NOT want to piss off an auditorium full of menopausal women. "Let Nora taaaaaaaaaalk," someone chanted. Suddenly there was a chorus of discontent. It was pretty amazing. The Booksmith people literally stopped mid-sentence and handed the microphone to Nora Ephron; then the monotone chick fled backstage, visibly upset. Toughest book crowd ever!
Things settled a bit once Ephron started talking. She didn't want to explain much about the book itself, much to the vocal consternation of the women next to me, who clearly wanted to commiserate on hot flashes. Most of the talk was the kind of thing I'd hoped it'd be: a lot of talk about the writing process in general. "Everything is copy," Ephron said, and went on to discuss how everything is fair game if you can turn it into a story. Even past marriages to Watergate-busting reporters, apparently. Oh, and Carl Bernstein? Not so happy with her book and movie Heartburn, as it turns out. Maybe he should have thought about that before cheating on his pregnant wife with an English chick. So there was good dish on that front.
There were also entertaining Hollywood anecdotes, especially appealing 'cause I'm such a sucker for Harry and Sally. For instance, did you know that the most famous scene in the movie, the one which will probably be carved on Ephron's tombstone, wasn't even written by her? Supposedly the faked orgasm idea came from Meg Ryan, while Billy Crystal came up with, "I'll have what she's having." And the whole idea came from Rob Reiner originally, who vehemently denied that any woman ever faked with him. Anyway, I thought that was cute. Ephron was pretty funny about it: "I'm in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations for something I didn't even write." You and Shakespeare both, sister. (Oh, just kidding. Don't get the academic panties in a wad.)
Eventually, Ephron had to turn to the publisher's bottom line, and talk about the book. It sounds humorous enough, given her general demeanor and talent, but still--not sure I'm ready yet for essays on postmenopausal sex and empty nest apartments in New York. But if it's any consolation, I'll probably pick up a tattered copy in the used book cellar of Brookline Booksmith in twenty years--and it will surely be $3 well spent.
Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that said author was Nora Ephron: writer, Watergate confidante, and expert on 80s-era relationships. Ms. Ephron spoke in Brookline last Thursday, as part of her tour for her latest book, I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman. (This was definitely one of those cases where I was drawn by the author more than the book. I may be a cranky old lady in a lot of ways, but essays on middle-aged womanhood? Yeah, not so much. However, one look at the crowd proved how much I was in the minority, being under forty and all. And men? I saw three, tops.)
Also, the words were not spoken by Ephron herself. That might have made it all right somehow, but alas....The event-planning folks at Brookline Booksmith tend to get cutesy in their intros for bigger-name authors. If you've written a low-level collection of poetry, chances are you'll get a standard intro. But if you've been a successful screenwriter with mega-familiar titles connected to your name like so many unpaid parking tickets, people are gonna want to spit your words back in your face. It just happened to be more painful than usual here. Monotone Booksmith Guy and More Monotone Booksmith Gal attempted banter. Yes, banter. This might have been okay if they'd just tried to emulate Meg Ryan & co., and written something brief and vaguely charming, but they opted instead to take direct lines from When Harry Met Sally. "You made a woman meow?" isn't nearly as funny when delivered from a podium. After about ten minutes (seriously) of this--and long after the whole thing lapsed into forgettable lines from Sleepless in Seattle--the crowd snapped. And trust me, you do NOT want to piss off an auditorium full of menopausal women. "Let Nora taaaaaaaaaalk," someone chanted. Suddenly there was a chorus of discontent. It was pretty amazing. The Booksmith people literally stopped mid-sentence and handed the microphone to Nora Ephron; then the monotone chick fled backstage, visibly upset. Toughest book crowd ever!
Things settled a bit once Ephron started talking. She didn't want to explain much about the book itself, much to the vocal consternation of the women next to me, who clearly wanted to commiserate on hot flashes. Most of the talk was the kind of thing I'd hoped it'd be: a lot of talk about the writing process in general. "Everything is copy," Ephron said, and went on to discuss how everything is fair game if you can turn it into a story. Even past marriages to Watergate-busting reporters, apparently. Oh, and Carl Bernstein? Not so happy with her book and movie Heartburn, as it turns out. Maybe he should have thought about that before cheating on his pregnant wife with an English chick. So there was good dish on that front. There were also entertaining Hollywood anecdotes, especially appealing 'cause I'm such a sucker for Harry and Sally. For instance, did you know that the most famous scene in the movie, the one which will probably be carved on Ephron's tombstone, wasn't even written by her? Supposedly the faked orgasm idea came from Meg Ryan, while Billy Crystal came up with, "I'll have what she's having." And the whole idea came from Rob Reiner originally, who vehemently denied that any woman ever faked with him. Anyway, I thought that was cute. Ephron was pretty funny about it: "I'm in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations for something I didn't even write." You and Shakespeare both, sister. (Oh, just kidding. Don't get the academic panties in a wad.)
Eventually, Ephron had to turn to the publisher's bottom line, and talk about the book. It sounds humorous enough, given her general demeanor and talent, but still--not sure I'm ready yet for essays on postmenopausal sex and empty nest apartments in New York. But if it's any consolation, I'll probably pick up a tattered copy in the used book cellar of Brookline Booksmith in twenty years--and it will surely be $3 well spent.
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