Currently Browsing

I finished Steve Hely’s How I Became a Famous Novelist in one sitting last night, which is to say I was up until about 3:30am.

Hely’s character Peter Tarslaw tackled the formula needed to grab the attention of “serious readers” and make The New York Time‘s Best Seller list all to humiliate his ex-girlfriend at her wedding. Being a famous author screams “Look! I’ve made it,” clearly. His mockery of both authors and readers alike kept me laughing (and awake) page by page.

Peter’s formula for becoming a famous novelist falls under the “funny because it’s true” category, and just as absurd as having a formula for analyzing books. Admittedly, analyzing literature is not a strength of mine. But if someone wants to sound intelligent and “in the know,” tossing around descriptive words, metaphors, and referencing famous authors seems to be the entry point. I’d settle for “That book was great [good, terrible]!”

Just like all other art, who is behind what we consume? Why is their analysis and opinion the correct one?

My unfortunate conclusion is that major executives (or Oprah) tell us what to read. This is a sad day, Harpo. Then again, someone has to make the lists and someone has to decide what goes on the end caps at Barnes and Noble, right? I don’t know the major players in the “book world,” but in comparison, the music industry’s list contains the likeness of Clear Channel, Universal and Sony. (Side note: American Idol is on in the background. This is puts a stamp on my point or makes me terribly ironic.)

I’ve found a lot of great books because they are on best seller lists or on an end cap. But here are my two major problems with the current structure:

1. I find it terribly hard to find books that interest me. Unlike listening to an album, which I can turn off after two miserable songs, I am investing hours if not days in a book. The sting is even more harsh after 400 pages of complete shit. This is probably why I have tendency to stick to non-fiction; even if I don’t love the book, I probably learned something.

Also, I hate the idea of a “books similar to” suggestion. If you’ve read one terrible, bitter, wry Sedaris book, you’ve read them all.

1. The challenge of getting a book published, I imagine, is ridiculously hard, which limits the opportunity to be exposed to a hidden gem. I find this with music so often: I’ll discover to an incredible band only to find out they have been getting nowhere for 6 years. Meanwhile record labels are pumping out albums with a tired formula, yet the masses eat it up. I want to read books that defy the “books similar to” tag.

Sorry for turning this book review in to a rant — it sprang up out of nowhere. That’ll teach you.