Salutations! I’m Caroline, a new intern for Beaufort Books. I’ve been here for a couple of weeks now, and I’ve been learning so much. I’ve been working a little more on the editorial side of things, while “Behind the CrossBEAU” Kerry has been learning more about marketing, but we’ve had a ton of overlap. A lot of what we’ve been learning has come from the fabulous Beaufort employees, but some of it has been coming from the newsletters, articles, blogs, submissions, and Google Alerts that we keep track of, read, and later publicize if relevant to our authors. Just this morning, I was perusing a list of articles, and found one titled, Your Hotel Bible Is Now a Kindle (http://gizmodo.com/5922835/your-hotel-bible-is-now-a-kindle ). I did a double take and read more. Sure enough, the subject of the article was exactly what the headline suggested: a hotel in the UK will now be leaving an e-reader in each of their hotel rooms pre-loaded with the digital equivalent of the Gideon’s Bible traditionally left in each room (and one can download any other religious text for free, assuming its cost does not exceed $7.50. Secular book downloads must be paid for).

Reading the article got me thinking about the worth we do or don’t place on the physicality of something important to us. Some people, if asked what possessions they would save from their house in a burning fire, would choose photo albums, even if they have images in their head or on the computer from the past. Some people are excited to receive a birthday card in the mail; others are equally pleased by a Facebook post. Is it only the content that matters, or is there value in the tangibility of it as well? Clearly, the answer differs from person to person.

But I was particularly struck by this idea of a digital Bible. Historically, Jews, Christians, and Muslims have placed a great deal of value on the tangibility of their religious texts, and have strict etiquettes for handling them. For example, it is forbidden to use the Qu’ran as a pillow in any circumstances. Christians have special rituals for disposing of damaged Bibles. Jews have a special instrument (the yad) to point to the words in the Torah rather than touch it with potentially dirty fingers. Furthermore, versions of each book have been secreted away in times of trouble, often at great risk to those doing the safekeeping. Clearly, for members of each of these faiths, the book itself matters, too, not just what is inside it.

I have to admit that I feel this way about books of any kind. I don’t read on e-Readers or computers if I can help it. I have a reverence of sorts for physical books of any kind. As Ray Bradbury said, “All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don’t want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket.” I have to wonder if this is even more resonant for people who feel religious devotion toward one book, and hold it up as sacred. And yet, for centuries before the words of the Torah (Old Testament to Christians) was written, the words inside were passed down via oral tradition. The same goes for most folktales, fairy tales, and myths. It is the stories themselves that have survived over time, not the format.

On the other hand, this isn’t an issue of the choices available to the devotee or consumer. Anyone can still buy a physical book or a physical religious text (for now…). The occurring shift featured in the article is one of the format of reading materials provided to hotel guests free of charge. Moochers can’t be choosers, right? But in the past, the only reason that hotel guests have had free access to Bibles is because the Gideons have worked to distribute free copies of the New Testament to hotels, as well as to other people, and organizations. Now, it seems that this endeavor is being funded by Hotel Indigo – which, presumably being a secular entity – makes me wonder, why are guests entitled to free readings of religious texts but not secular ones? I know some people who approach secular tomes – whether they are by James Joyce or J.K. Rowling – with a reverence and zeal to rival that of any religious devotee.  Will they be provided with electronic Ulyseeses and Harry Potters? Doubtful. Would they want to be? Or do the pages dog-eared from use, spines worn by love, the corporeal receptacles of all the thoughts they’ve had as readers, mean too much to give up?

It’s worth considering: Do hotels have a future in doubling as libraries? And if not, what does it mean to fund the digital reading of only certain books? What does it mean to fund digital reading at all? Are we perpetuating the enjoyment of the stories, or diluting the full potential of readers’ experience and enjoyment of them? Is it just the story, or also the form, that we, as people who hold books sacred (whether religious or secular), wish to preserve?

I’m Kerry, a new intern at Beaufort, and would like to start by regretfully acknowledging that I am no Legolas or Katniss. Though the only time I have ever shot an arrow was from my brother’s miniature archery set when I was young, I would love to be an honorary archer by shooting you some arrows of truth with this blog as my crossBEAU! I will, of course, be using my words, something I expect I’m better at wielding than weapons. I imagine a stance behind a crossbow would be a place of great tranquility and focus (that is, of course, when you are not trying to compete with Gimli to see who can kill more orcs and/or shooting for your life in the 74^th Annual Hunger Games) and I aim to write with the enthusiasm these awesome archer characters have for their sport. I’m thoroughly excited to be learning about the publishing industry from within and am already getting a feel for what an interesting and multifaceted business it is.

It’s inspiring to learn about Beaufort’s books and the authors that created them. I am imagining the blank piece of paper that each of their books must once have been as a target, and their finished, published work as their own bull’s-eye. I’ve always loved to write and, for me, a blank page is both thrilling and intimidating. I am delighted to be in a place where the filling of that page, or the journey of the arrow from the crossBEAU to the target, is central.

In keeping with the theme of my new pun, I also considered the analogy of the gun to the crossbow as e-readers are to printed books. In both cases, the former serves a similar purpose with a little more efficiency and a little less mass. More convenient, practical and environmentally friendly, the gun and the e-reader fit with our fast paced society while the crossbow and the printed book linger in an artistic and enduring realm that allows for a respite from all the instantaneousness and technology upon us. While I tend to prefer the printed book to the e-book (I am fond of turning pages and I love that new book smell), I must say of the hi-tech counterparts to the bow and book: leave the gun, take the Kindle.

Here we are once again with the question of “What makes good literature?”

Stanley Fish of the New York Times recently wrote, in essence, that a book whose intrigue relies on suspense alone has little merit (Somewhat ironically: see the concluding paragraph of his Op-Ed). This was in response to criticisms of his column on The Hunger Games, wherein he revealed some plot points of the later books in the trilogy.

Fish’s response of “What Do Spoilers Spoil?” sparked some intense responses. And so we are apparently divided into two camps: Those who flip to the last page of a book first, and those who consider such an act blasphemy.

Stanley Fish makes a number of points to defend his spoiler-ridden column, citing the difference in experiences for first-time readers and re-readers, how knowledge of the plot can actually enhance your reading experience; also the Paradox of Suspense, how one can experience feelings of suspense despite knowing what happens (e.g. watching any episode of Buffy, as the next demon threatens the lives of Buffy and the gang, and you’re worried for the Scoobies even though you know there are still four more seasons of the show left for you to watch on Netflix [and worry you should, as Joss takes pleasure in killing the ones we love, but that’s beside the point]). ANYWAY, while Fish’s article can come off as mere self-justification, he makes some good points, though spoiler fore-knowledge is different from re-reading fore-knowledge.

Well.

A few months ago, I raced to finish the first Hunger Games book before the movie came out and then proceeded to give my reflections on the movie’s portrayal of the book at home after dinner. My brother, from across the house, my loan of the first book in his hands, requested that I not talk so loudly and then proceeded to retreat upstairs so he couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t even giving any spoilers. He argued that it wasn’t plot spoilers alone that he wanted to avoid, but that he wanted to come at the book with an entirely clean slate, so that he could experience the book entirely for the first time. Explained this way, I could empathize. This is how I prefer to approach most musical theater. My father will listen to the soundtrack beforehand, but I want to hear the music for the first time in context, live.  There is something to be said for entering into an artistic experience completely blind to get a true first impression.

As for which camp I belong to—to take my own metaphor for spoiler lovers literally—I will not deny that I have on occasion turned to that last page and read the very last sentence of a book. However, I often gleaned little of the meaning whatsoever from this exercise. But it was sometimes fun to then reach that sentence again, this time with the light of understanding and find the mystery revealed. Try reading that last sentence of The Great Gatsby, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” What can you make of that before having read the entirety of the novel?

While we’re on the topic of The Great Gatsby, I just finished re-reading it since I first read it in high school six years ago. I remember some of the plot, but not all. But what I did know, I did enjoy knowing. It allowed me to see significance in a scene or a sentence that would have been mostly lost on me the first time around. This proves, for me, Fish’s point on re-reading (though it still somewhat different to recall parts of a story than having plot points told to you).

But as for actual plot spoilers, personally I often try to avoid them, for I see little reason to purposefully skip ahead, especially if I really care about the story (whereas with Bones, the tension in the show was so on-going that I just had to know if Bones and Booth would ever get together…and then when they did it was an utter disappointment, but not because I “spoiled” it). But in general I make an effort to take it in stride when I stumble upon undesired fore-knowledge.

1. The knowledge can’t be taken back, so why bemoan it?

2. I still take much pleasure in finding out what happens to get to the spoiled event. Sure, Dumbledore dies (sorry), but that information means nothing without the five Ws.

For a spoiler lover’s opinion, read this.

Your New BEAU

So, you’re reading a book—a narrative—and, just as when you watch a movie or see a play, you hope to feel something. We expect good art to drive us to some catharsis. I see it as a given that we read in order to feel, to relate to a character or an experience and grow a little, or a lot, in the process. But I also expect that a book (or a movie, or a play) can broaden my understanding by opening my mind up to experiences and circumstances I haven’t had or been subjected to; that a good character is relatable on the most human levels despite having a life far removed from my own.

This is pathos. The story, the character, appeals to the reader’s emotions, evoking pity and compassion where there might have been little, if any.

So, this study performed by Ohio State University puzzles and intrigues me somewhat.

Students who read about a character who is in nearly their exact same situation had the strongest “experience-taking.” Reading about a student, my age, at my university, having an experience I am closely anticipating having. Perhaps it’s obvious that one should have the strongest relational experience with someone with whom they share the most similarities.

In the study, different students were given slightly different reading material (1^st person v. 3^rd person point of view, their alma mater v. a different school) concerning voting and the researchers observed the outcome. How many students voted after reading about this student who voted? The obvious occurred.

Read more about it here.

The point of the study is clear, direct, and literal. Can reading affect a person’s actions? In what situations can it have this effect? The answer being: when what your reading relates most directly to you. My concern is slightly off-base, but the oh so literal nature of this study bothers me. I would hope we could read about someone not exactly alike to us in every way and it might still have an effect on us.

The study is looking for a direct effect, one characterized outwardly in the form of an action. You read about voting and you vote. But there’s more to the effect that books can have on a reader than inspiring simple, direct actions. They can inspire compassion, and larger changes to our own character if the book is strong enough to move us deeply. Pathos.

I’m not sure if they can do a study about that.

Let books move you.

You New Beau.

It isn’t really worth repeating, because most already agree: Standardized tests are inadequate judges of a student’s actual skills and intellect.

The news has been buzzing about Pearson’s English Language Arts test and their nearly unintelligible insertion of a mangled Daniel Pinkwater excerpt. You can see it for yourself here.

This nonsensical story (characterized as such by Pinkwater himself, who specializes in absurdist literature) was given to 8^th graders in New York State along with six meaningless multiple choice questions meant to evaluate the 13 year olds’ reading comprehension skills.

More from Daniel Pinkwater on the test and the Pineapple passage here.

Also in the NYTimes recently: an article about new “e-Rater” technology—computers that grade standardized test essays.

A task once reserved solely for the realm of the sentient evaluator, a number of testing companies are developing e-rating technologies—again including Pearson—and testing the computer’s ratings against human graders.

MIT’s Les Perelman does his own testing of the Educational Testing Service’s e-Rater (Pearson declined to have Perelman show “why it doesn’t work”) in the NYTimes article. The e-Rater awards points to essays that are longer, have “bigger” words, and use conjunctions—all of which indicate a more thought-out, articulate, and complex argument. The e-Rater cannot fact-check.

Where am I going with all of this?

The point of these tests is, supposedly, to evaluate the reading and writing proficiencies of these kids, right? To help make them better readers and better writers?

Here’s a brief explanation of how Pearson creates the tests.

I guess where I am going with this is simply to ask what this world is coming to (as usual). Reading tests that barely show the tester’s comprehension of the English language and writing tests that barely show the tester’s interest in giving a fair assessment of the students’ writing…

And what does all of this mean for books (of course) and literacy in America? Print and electronic publications are the essence of how we communicate with each other (when we are not face-to-face, or screen-to-screen a la Skype). Such a misuse of a literary passage as the “Pineapple and the Hare” fiasco is a disservice to the literature it draws from. How can students be asked to give sensible answers about a nonsensical story? And then, later in life, how will they be able to fully appreciate good absurdist literature (such as the work of Pinkwater, or of David Foster Wallace) without finding themselves asking the same irrelevant questions that these tests do, sorely missing the point and unarmed with the less “standardized” and more abstract analytical skills that could open up the world of good books to them?

A big question, I know. And one I can’t really answer except to say, fight the man!

The tests are not likely to go away…hopefully they don’t discourage the thousands of students who are subjected to them from becoming  readers.

Students! You can all be good readers, and have fun doing it, too! Feel free to view these tests with a resigned disdain. Ace them, because you know what bogus game they’re playing at. Get out of high school and read the books you want with an open, curious and questioning mind. And read some of them with a good professor who will get you asking even more questions (this is good!). And maybe you will find more meaningful answers than “(D) The Owl.”

MORAL: It’s often not about “Which animal spoke the wisest words?” but more about what those wise words are and the implications of those words.

Don’t stop reading books!

Your New BEAU

“Hi, um, tonight is World Book Night, and I wanted you to have this.”

In my first post to the Beaufort blog, I promoted World Book Night, an event I had just found out about. Here is just what I said:

“I want everyone to love reading as much as I do! So, here’s an event I just learned about that seems totally awesome! World Book Night! Sounds cool, right? I know. The idea is that on April 23, 2012, across the nation, 50,000 volunteers will be handing out a total of 1 million free books to anyone and everyone that will take them. The volunteers are being called “book givers” and they will be handing out one of 30 popular titles (listed on the website), like print-superheroes mysteriously emerging from the shadows in the night to revive the secret pleasure of falling into a good book. So cool.”

Well, last night was April 23, 2012 and I was one of those book givers. From the thirty titles, I chose The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, a book I read my senior year in high school for a final project in English class. I wrote my own personal note to the reader—hoping they enjoy the book and share it with others—opened my giver box and slipped a copy of it in the first page of each of my 20 copies of the book. I carefully loaded them into my bag so they’d be easier to carry and then stepped out onto 42^nd street.

Where to go?

I saw a group of givers on the NYPL steps, but I did not join them.  I thought of setting up camp in Grand Central, but decided against it. Realizing I hadn’t thought this through as well as I’d thought I had, I panicked. What good would it do if I gave all my books to people who will just stick on their over-stuffed shelves and let it collect dust? Who should I give my books to??

I hopped on the 6, intending to start in Union Square. On the train I grew even more concerned. Even if I saw someone I wanted to give a book to, how would I approach them? People in New York are already wary of strangers and skeptical of free handouts. I wasn’t sure anyone would even acknowledge me.  But I found my first recipient before I even got off the subway. Someone on the train smiled at me and figured it was the perfect segue. I stood up to get off the train and as I handed her the book I said “Hi, um, tonight is World Book Night, and I wanted you to have this,” she smiled again, said “thank you” and turned the book over in her hands, and I headed up the stairs onto the street.  Success!

Clearly this was a battle with my social anxiety, but I didn’t want to fail the cause. I wanted to make WBN a success on my own level. My hesitation slowed me down, but I eventually spread the printed word to 20 random New Yorkers. In the process, I got looked at askance, waved away, ignored, thanked dismissively, called “generous,” and “sexy,” and met a few of the most gracious pedestrians.

With one book left in my bag, I descended again into the subway at Union Square. And a woman, not quite waiting for a train, glanced at me and so I went over and offered her my last copy. Just as I was about to walk away she asked me if WBN had anything to do with the festival of St. Jordi (Saint George).

At the time I didn’t know that it did, but she told me that in Catalonia in Spain it was the festival of Sant Jordi and that the day is marked by the tradition of exchanging books. She had posted on Facebook that morning that she hoped she got one! Nearing on 9pm, I was the one to answer that calling. Possibly the best way to end an evening of book-giving.

Happy day after World Book Night!

Step 1. Pick up a book.

Step 2. Read it.

Step 3. Share it with others!

Your New BEAU

Today, I came across Joel Stein’s op-ed piece in The New York Times about how adults should stray from reading Young Adult fiction such as Twilight, The Hunger Games, Harry Potter.

” Let’s have the decency to let tween girls have their own little world of vampires and child wizards and games you play when hungry”

Yup, that’s a direct quote.

As Mr. Stein emphasizes in the opening of his piece, and as evident in the above quote, he has not bothered reading any of these popular series and has no idea what they are about, what themes they touch upon, and in a sense has no real relevant opinion on them.  He strongly feels that adults should solely read adult literary fiction, and is sometimes pejorative and condescending in the language he uses to emphasize this point.

Point. Counterpoint. Lev Grossman wrote an op-ed piece for the Times as well explaining why the book group of adults he belongs to only reads YA books.  He feels that YA books are rarely boring, have strong and clear narrators, and rely more on structured plot and character development then on writing style, linear vs. nonlinear plot lines, or metaphor.

Both articles are part of a discourse that is happening today, due in large part to the success of The Hunger Games.  Obviously, whether Mr. Stein wants to acknowledge it or not, the themes and stories told in these books are resonating with both young adults and adult adults.  People are overlooking the suggested reading level of books and are reading them either for personal enjoyment or to keep up with the zeitgeist.

I’m really not a huge consumer of YA, but I’m in Mr. Grossman’s corner, because anyone who tries to dictate what I should or should not be reading isn’t cool in my book.

Check out Mr. Grossman’s article here and Mr’s Stein’s article here

Ah, publishing in the digital age! So many possibilities! So many complications!

The notion of “digital rights” for a book, believe it or not, has been around for about 20 years, even in the very early days of the personal computer (My family got our first computer in 1997, I think, possibility a little later than some; we enjoy staying fashionably behind the curve). I keeping thinking of the brilliant word processor Richard Dreyfus used in Stand By Me—a bulky beige contraption with a small black screen and blocky green text.

Yes, even in 1986 (when Stand By Me was produced) the digital age was taking hold. Publishing companies began including the “right to publish in unspecified digital formats” in their contracts with authors (you can read an overview of publishing contracts and rights here), though the first eReader (Sony’s, I believe) did not come out until around 2006.

Seeing “digital” as the great unknown looming in the [not so far off] distance, some publishers had the prescience to claim rights to something they did not even have concrete knowledge of—the ways of the future. Those who did were smart. The rest have ended up crawling through their fortresses of paper contract copies hoping they did the same, in whatever vague terms.  And if they didn’t, they have to contact the author and ask if she/he would be willing to amend the contract to include digital rights. And then, once more, they must hope.

A publisher does not automatically have the right to publish a book in eBook format. They may have the print rights, but the two formats are negotiated separately.  Publishers who did not have the forethought to include digital rights in an initial contract may face competition from other publishing houses later on for said rights. For instance, say a publisher puts out book that sells 50,000 copies, but neglected to include digital rights in the contract, when this fact comes to light, other companies would certainly jump on the opportunity to turn a profit by claiming a share of the glory through the eBook.

Alternatively, an author can withhold eBook rights on their book if it was not included in the initial contract. And this is essentially what J.K. Rowling did. Bloomsbury Publishing in the UK, it would seem, neglected digital rights for the Harry Potter series. How could they have known HP would become a cultural phenomenon? And that in a just a few years reading books on tiny portably screens would be the new norm?

Rowling opened the beta version of her mysterious website, Pottermore, last year (scheduled to open to the public in Aril this year). Now, Rowling has created the imprint Pottermore Publishing and is selling her eBooks of the entire HP series exclusively on her Pottermore website. Talk about missed opportunities, Bloomsbury. Barnes & Noble and Amazon want in on the action, but they best they can do is link to her website for the sell.

Life lessons. Plan wisely for the digital future, even if you don’t really know what that is. Or J.K. Rowling will take over the world.

For many, reading time is sacred. You make the decision to pick up a book for an hour, or a few, and live in another world for a while. Your surroundings become a blur and you fade into the book, not really seeing the words on the page anymore but building the scenes in your mind, creating the motion picture (this is why I always strive to read the book before I see the movie because the film takes away my ability to create the world for myself first).

Naturally, it follows that reading is a somewhat solitary activity. I’ve had fantastical notions of “socializing” by spending reading time with a friend—two of us, in the same room, reading together. But what it comes down to is that two people reading together cannot simultaneously socialize without stopping every few sentences or so to comment or what have you. Real reading time consists of silence and solitude. Interruptions disrupt the flow of the narrative; they jarringly press the pause button on the mind-movie.

Now you can bluntly convey to others your wish to read without disruption with a customized “Go Away, I’m Reading” book jacket. Bold and decisive: I would like to be left alone right now. Do not disturb. No, this familiar title is not an invitation to drag me into your own impromptu book club meeting simply because I chose to take my book out in public and you happened to be there.

A bit harsh, but it’s what most of us want, right?

I do know a number of people with a similar pet peeve that they hate when people in the park or on the train crane to see what they are reading. I will confess, I do this all the time—I see the person next to me holding a book and a natural curiosity takes over to find out what the folks are reading these days (fyi for most it’s Tina Fey’s Bossypants). I have heard some people put in the “pros” list about their e-reader that they enjoy the fact that people can’t immediately see what they are reading. Sales of romance e-books have gone up.

Either way, what’s at work here is a desire for some kind of privacy, to exist in our own private bubble, undisturbed. This is by no means anything wrong with this. But a friend of mine did make an interesting comparison. I mentioned to him something I had read by Christine Rosen that examines human behavior in our technological age and how a discrepancy between a wealth of information (to be gained from the internet) and a wealth of experience (to be gained from the physical world) might affect our lives, habits and expectations.

She does not make the somewhat typical argument on this front that technology could be our downfall (an argument you find in books like Virtually You), but she does talk about how we use technology as mediators in our lives, how people walk down the street on their smart phones with their earbuds in and dissociate themselves from the world they are living in. Anyhow, my friend countered with the comment that “well, when the printing press came around, people were probably thinkin’ that those folks were spending too much time reading.”

Books mediate our reality too, sure, that’s true. And when we sit in a public place begging to be left alone with Tina Fey or whatever book, we resist a physical interaction with the world just as much as when we’re texting or what have you.

But it’s better when it’s books, right? Right. Reading is an emotional learning experience. It is not the same as that person who stands there texting because they feel so awkward about being alone in a public place that they need to prove to the world that they indeed have friends who talk to them (it’s okay, I have done it, too, on occasion).

So, yes, go away! I’m reading.

Your New Beau

The Tournament of Books kicked off today! This is an annual “competition” that The Morning News holds every year where 16 books face off leading up to the announcement of the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction.  It’s been a great motivating list to read books that people both in and outside of the publishing industry have been sharing and discussing, and more often than not has exposed me to authors and other books that I have greedily devoured and shared.  It’s also been a great reminder of why I am interning in the first place – I love books, love talking about books, and am a huge nerd.  I’ve only managed to read 10 out of the 16 books but it has been great fodder for conversation here and at home.

What’s also great about the list is that it represents authors of varying age, experience, gender, ethnicity, and geography.  Each book is starkly different from the next , each protagonist is cherished for a new reason, and every ending had me thinking about fiction in a new way.  The Marriage Plot, the first book I read from the list, completely blew me away, left me wanting more and loving the three main characters so much that I ached and pained for all of their misery, strife, and challenges.  Open City was a pleasure to read mostly for its ode to the hidden gems of New York City (seriously – I think it’s the first high brow fiction book I’ve read that shouts out Malecon Restaurant in the Heights).  At the end, you’re not sure that you trust or even like Julius, the Nigerian psychiatrist navigating us through memory, time, and New York City, which turned out to be one of the eeriest feelings I had about a book’s ending in a really long time.  And I can’t even begin to wrap my head around how awesome and groundbreaking State of Wonder is…seriously, GO READ THIS NOW.

I used to be really opposed to book lists.  I never really liked knowing what I was going to pick up next.  Discovering new books, or being recommended books (my favorite pastime in the world) was the best component of being a reader.  But now, I salute TMN for guiding me through some of 2011’s best books and leading me to new ones that weren’t on the list (must read The Pale King at some point), for exposing me to new authors I would have never found on my own (Helen DeWitt is hilarious and Donald Ray Pollack makes Stephen King look like Disney).  Reading all of these books has honestly motivated me more in my career, reiterating the already known fact that books are an important part of my personality.  I can only hope to dirty my editor’s hands in a future TOB finalist.

– BeaustieBoy