I received my very first fan letter from Japan the other day, and it absolutely delighted me. My foreign correspondent informed me that the Japanese title of The Poacher's Son might roughly be translated as The Man Who Disappeared in the Forest. That's not too far off actually.
The Poacher's Sonwich
Jenny Hendrix, who writes for the New Yorker's Book Bench blog, has a very funny post on "literary sandwiches":
Last week, a menu made the rounds in our office from a restaurant specializing in author-themed sandwiches, such as the Hemingway (filet mignon on a toasted bun with steak fries) and the Henry Miller (hot pastrami and melted Swiss, served only after noon). The restaurant in question is, alas, in California, but the menu left our collective stomach rumbling, and we determined to create our own, if slightly more fanciful, list of literary fare. As always, we'd love to hear your suggestions below....
The Miss Lonelyhearts: one slice of plain white bread with heart of palm....
The Nora Roberts: all cheese.
The Dave Eggers: a broken, runny egg on staggeringly thick bread; served with a guide to its enjoyment.
The Thomas Pynchon: no one really knows....
Lady Cheddarley’s Lover: a controversial abundance of melted cheddar and several unprintable ingredients....
The Animal Farm: supposed to include a variety of meats in equal parts; in practice, though, mostly ham.
It got me thinking about the culinary possibilities behind my own novel. After many long hours laboring in the Minotaur Books test kitchen, I emerged with the following recipe:
The Poacher's Sonwich: a grilled deer meat patty on day-old Wonderbread, topped with a poached egg.
On the Radio
On Sunday night I'll be the guest on the "Maine Outdoors" radio show at 7p.m. on WVOM 101.3 / 103.9. It's a call-in program so don't be shy about picking up the phone! 1-800-966-1039. I think that's the right number.
"All Politics Is Local"
I have a new Editor's Note up over at the day job about Maine's crazy election season. Maine is one of those rare states that has gotten simultaneously more conservative and liberal over the past decade. I'm beginning to wonder how much cognitive dissonance people can endure before the body politic suffers a massive, paralyzing stroke.
#Bcon2010
That's the Twitter hashtag for the 2010 Bouchercon World Mystery Convention being held this weekend in San Francisco. In a few hours I'm taking a puddle jumper from Owls Head, Maine, to Boston. From there it's a straight shot to the Left Coast.
I attended last year's Bouchercon in Indianapolis. At that time I was an anonymous conventioneer; I had a book coming out, but that's hardly notable at a conference that attracts some of the biggest names in crime fiction. Still, I had a great experience being wined and dined by my agent and publisher and listening to some thought-provoking presentations. After many years of hoping, I began to imagine seeing The Poacher's Son in print.
Now I'm attending the conference as a published author myself. I won't be running any panels, but I expect to sit in on a bunch of them. I'll spend hours in the book room no doubt. And I'm sure I'll be a fixture in the lounge.
If you're attending Bouchercon and you've read The Poacher's Son and you see me wandering aimlessly, I hope you'll say, "Hello."
(Unless you hated the book. In that case, let's just make like two ships and pass in the night.)