How Do You Pronounce Doiron, Anyway?

One of the most common questions I am asked is how I pronounce my name. I published this explanation last year but have decided to run it again since it remains a source of confusion.

When you grow up with an uncommon surname, mispronunciation is a lifelong companion. Doiron is a French name. There are lots of Franco-Americans in my home state of Maine. The name refers to the village of Oiron in the Poitou region of France. Long ago, one of my ancestors somehow acquired the surname d'Oiron. In the language of Michel de Montagne, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Maurice Chevalier this translates as "from the flyspeck of Oiron." Somewhere over the centuries, the apostrophe was misplaced, and we all became Doirons. I doubt it ever occurred to the original Monsieur d'Oiron that his American descendants would spend their lives suffering through endless mispronunciations of his elegant monicker.

In my life I've been called just about everything: Doron, Dyer, Drier, Dye-run, Dry-run. The most common variant was, and is, Dorian (as in Gray). The American tongue has difficulty wrapping itself around the French diphthong. I am sympathetic to this handicap although I sometimes wonder how Agatha Christie managed to create a world-famous Belgian detective with a surname almost identical to my own, and yet somehow hostesses in restaurants continue to page me as, "Darren, party of two."

So Hercule Poirot has been of no help. (Sometimes, I fancy that if ever I have a son I will name him Hercule. Either that or Elvis Aaron. One or the other.) The truth is I respond to nearly any sound that roughly approximates the six letters in my name. Shout Doo-run-run! and I'll know you mean me.

In fact, my name has been mispronounced so regularly, in so many different ways, that I have stopped bothering to correct people. What does it matter, after all? I know you bear me no malice when you call me "Paul Do-iron." That pronunciation isn't so far off the mark actually. I'll take it over most of the alternatives.

My great aunt Oline (pronounced O-lean, like the no-fat cooking oil) used to pronounce our last name Dwerron. Being much older and Frencher than me gave her considerable authority on the matter. But asking your average American to look at the name Doiron and make that mental leap—"Oh, of course, it's Dwerron, like that dwarf from Middle Earth!"—seems like an unreasonable expectation to me. 

Truth be told, not all of us Doirons pronounce our names the same anyway. I’m sure I have a distant cousin who calls herself Darien, like the Connecticut township. And who am I to say she's wrong. It's her name as well as mine.

For the record, though, it’s Dwarren.

Maine Warden Pilot Dies in Crash

This is a tragedy:

The Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife is saddened to report the death of Maine Warden Service Pilot Daryl Gordon.

Pilot Gordon died in a plane crash on Clear Lake on Thursday night. He was located this morning after a night-long search that included his friends with the Maine Warden Service, Maine Forest Service, Maine State Police, Customs and Border Protection – Houlton Air Branch, U.S. Border Patrol and Civil Air Patrol.

Maine Warden Service Col. Joel Wilkinson and Commissioner Chandler Woodcock will conduct a press conference at 3:30 p.m. today at the Bangor office of the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife, located at the Dorothea Dix complex off Hogan Road.

Pilot Gordon is a 25-year veteran of the Maine Warden Service whose aerial search-and-rescue efforts brought countless people home to loved ones. He is the 15th Game Warden to die in line of duty in the Maine Warden Service’s 130-year history.

No other information is available at this time.

My deepest condolences to Pilot Gordon's friends, family, and colleagues in the Warden Service.

Do You Pick the Covers of Your Books?

The short answer is, "No."

When I am working on a novel, I don't discuss cover ideas with my editor. Although I think of myself as a visually oriented person (all writers think of themselves as visually oriented people), I understand that I am better working with words than with images. Otherwise, I would be a designer. Once the novel has entered the production cycle, I am consulted when a preliminary jacket design is ready. But this process mostly consists of my editor and publisher showing me the image and hoping that I will like it. If I don't, I can suggest changes—"Can you make the rocks look more like granite?"—and I suppose if I really hated something, I could have my agent throw a fit on my behalf. But ultimately, I understand that marketing is the publishers' area of expertise. It doesn't mean that they are always right. But their experience bringing books to market weighs heavily on our conversations.

Publishing a novel requires that an author let go of lots of things. We're so close to our books that we often have trouble seeing them as prospective readers might, which is why you hear stories of Countess Tolstoy rescuing her husband's "failed" manuscript for War and Peace from the fireplace. Just as we judge ourselves too harshly at a times, so too do we fail to understand the qualities in our works that compel readers to embrace them.

I've often wondered why the maxim "you can't judge a book by its cover" has become so widespread. The caution against leaping to conclusions based on appearances is universal. But why is this kernel of wisdom encased in a publishing chestnut? Beats me.

Ultimately, it's nice if I like my book jacket. I feel more confident about waving it around in front of large audiences, for one thing. For the moment, though, I am willing to defer to people like Charlotte Strick who is the art director for Farrar, Strauss & Giroux, which is another Macmillan imprint. She offers this explanation of the design process from her point of view:

Every three months or so, we gather together. In our hands, launch meeting packets still hot off the copy machine. Our editor-in-chief sits at the head of the double-long conference table, and introduces us, the weary and largely bespectacled, to the newest crop of books. Over the years I've found that most editors describe their hopes and dreams for their future covers in the same ways. Please make them look "hip," "sexy," and—oh yes!—"fresh, too"! Our job as jacket designers is to keep reinterpreting these well-worn requests....

As the books are introduced, each of us begins to wonder: Will I solve the problem with illustration or photography? If the title is brilliant and descriptive, maybe an all-type treatment that's bold and clever is the best solution. (These are always my favorites.) Is there even any budget for art after the copy-editing fees, production costs, and author's advances have been tallied? No? Never mind! We'll get out our paintbrushes and dust off our cameras and get to work. 

Once we designers have made requests for certain projects or authors, read through the manuscripts, researched fonts, and composed sketches, then the in-house roundtable made up of the heads of our publicity and sales departments and several high-ranking members of the editorial staff weigh in. We state our cases for the research we've done and the color choices we've made. We cross our fingers and toes and say silent prayers to the design gods in the hopes that our babies don't end up in the recycling bin—or, worse, that the chosen design is the one we like the least. "Why did we decide to show that one?" we curse ourselves. 

Library Journal Gives Trespasser a Star!

When I was waiting for the reviews for my first book to come out, I had the advantage of ignorance. Not having been through the gauntlet before, I had no idea what to expect. Fortunately, with The Poacher's Son, I had the sort of experience every first novelist hopes for: I got to read one glowing review after another recommending my book.

With my new mystery, Trespasser, I now understand the importance of pre-publication reviews. My good luck seems to be continuing! Today, Library Journal gave it a starred review:

Doiron, Paul. Trespasser. Minotaur: St. Martin’s. Jun. 2011. c.320p. ISBN 9780312558475. $24.99. M
It’s mud season in northern Maine, no longer winter but not yet spring, and the grisly murder of a young woman raises questions nobody wants answered. Is the man serving time in prison for an identical murder innocent? Is there a serial killer on the loose? Game warden Mike Bowditch has a nose for finding answers and a penchant for getting in trouble. In just his second year on the job, he must combat the wicked weather, those in law enforcement who respect neither his profession nor him, and his personal demons. With the help of his friend Charlie, a legendary and now retired game warden, Mike doggedly pursues the truth as spring begins to show itself. VERDICT Doiron (nominated this year for an Edgar Award for his first book about Mike Bowditch, The Poacher’s Son) serves up a tense thriller that stars a memorable main character and brings the rugged Maine landscape vividly to life. Highly recommended for lovers of mysteries, particularly those set outdoors or in New England. Fans of C.J. Box and Castle Freeman will not be disappointed. [15-city tour in New England.]—Nancy Fontaine, Dartmouth Coll., Hanover, NH

It's days like this when I remember how fortunate I am to be living my life's dream.