Manly Books

One Web site that I really get a kick out of is The Art of Manliness which bears the slogan "Reviving the Lost Art of Manliness." The site combines Teddy Roosevelt-style injunctions on how to live a virtuous life (e.g. take cold showers, split firewood for exercise, emulate Chuck Yeager) with sometimes silly, sometimes useful advice (e.g. how to shave with a safety razor, how to tie a half Windsor knot, how to make your own bay rum aftershave). Having just watched a Super Bowl in which half the television ads seemed largely devoted to contemporary emasculation, I would describe The Art of Manliness as a beacon designed to lead men out of the spreading scourge of twenty-first century wimpdom.

Some time ago, the Web site released its life of 100 Must Read Books: The Man's Essential Library. Many of the choices are appropriately hirsute (For Whom the Bell Tolls, Call of the Wild), while you'd be hard pressed to locate a single chest hair on some of the others (Catcher in the Rye? The Portrait of Dorian Gray?). We're talking manliness here, not literary merit.

I won't make any claims for The Poacher's Son being an essential book, but I think it deserves consideration for future lists of manly fiction. How much more testosterone can you pack into a book title?

100 Facebook Fans

I don't know why this pleases me so much, but it does. Social networking (or "social not working" as a friend of mine calls it) has become an important part of twenty-first century book publicity. I've never seen any information that proves definitively that Twittering hourly or creating fan pages on Facebook leads to greater book sales, but because the matter is so uncertain, there's a tendency for nervous authors and publishers to overcompensate. So it was with a frivolous sense of joy that I saw today that The Poacher's Son has reached the magical milestone of one hundred fans on Facebook. What amuses me is that the novel is still three months from publication, and very few people have read the advance galleys, so most of my fans are voicing their support of the book on faith alone. If nothing else, that's a terrific boost of confidence. Now if I can just get to two hundred....

The Amazon Macmillan Kerfuffle

The big news in the publishing world today is Amazon's decision to stop selling all Macmillan titles, including those like The Poacher's Son published by Minotaur Books and other Macmillan imprints. Pricing seems to be the sticking point, according to an article in today's Engadget:

Macmillan's US CEO, John Sargent just confirmed that Amazon pulled its inventory of Macmillan books in a powerful response to Macmillan's new pricing demands. Macmillan offered the new pricing on Thursday, just a day after Apple announced Macmillan as a major publishing partner in its new iBookstore—a revelation that certainly factored into the discussions along with Skiff and other emerging e-book distribution and publishing models. 

If you go to my book's page on the Amazon Web site you'll see that the company is no longer accepting pre-orders. Instead there's an annoucement that reads: "Sign up to be notified when this item becomes available." It's unclear what has happened to existing pre-orders for the book, whether they will be filled if Amazon and Macmillan eventually reach an agreement over book pricing, or whether they've been lost in cyberspace.

In the meantime BN.com and Indiebound.com are still accepting pre-orders for The Poacher's Son, as are many of the online and brick-and-mortar sellers listed on the left side of this page.

Update: Until this dispute is worked out (if it's worked out), I'm disabling my Amazon link.

Norman Mailer on Negative Reviews

In 1955 Norman Mailer received a fusillade of negative reviews for his third novel, The Deer Park. Most novelists will tell you that there's no point in responding to scathing reviews, however mean-spirited or unjustified you might think they are. You just come across as thin-skinned and whiny. Mailer, however, hit upon an unconventional response to his critics; he tried to co-opt them. He wrote and paid for an ad in the Village Voice quoting the worst slams against him. Later, he explained his reasoning in Advertisements for Myself:

I had the tender notion—believe it if you will—that the ad might after all do its work and excite some people to buy the book. 

I doubt Mailer's ad accomplished his goal, but you have to admire his ingenuity.