Thursday, September 26, 2013
Here is an email from Stephanie Kim, the excellent publicist for “My Mistake” at Houghton Mifflin, along with an update of publicity stuff and then some commentary.
Hope all is well! RJ Julia’s (a great bookstore in CT) would love to host you for an event in early December. You have Porter Square in Cambridge on 12/5 — if you’re interested, maybe we can do RJ’s on Saturday afternoon 12/7 or Monday evening 12/9? Let me know what you think. Below is a rundown of our events thus far.
10/8 – NEIBA author breakfast (Prov, RI)
10/10 — Stony Brook University, Tedx Talk
10/21 – Introducing Billy Collins at 92nd Street Y
10/30 — Stony Brook Southampton, Dwight Garner Interview
11/19 – Upper West Side B&N, NYC, 7pm (NYC)
11/20 – Skylight, 7:30pm (LA)
11/21 – respite
11/22 – Elliott Bay (Seattle)
12/3 – Prairie Lights (Iowa)
12/5 – Porter Square, 7pm (Cambridge)
1/9-19 – Key West Literary Seminar
And now, RJ Julia, the great independent bookstore in Madison, CT, has asked me to go and read there. And I will.
The bookstore readings on the coast are financed by me–or, I should say, largely by AMEX Delta Skymiles. With any luck, the attendance will be low double figures. I once read to a busboy, a passed-out drunk, and my sister-in-law–who left in the middle to browse. Readings–so 20th Century. I feel like Willie Nelson–but with the opposite affect. Maybe it was the back taxes that made him love the touring. Speaking of odious self-promotion, the Sauvginon Blanc required me, the other night, to write this deranged FB message to The Daily Show. I paste it here again at the insistence of wine, this time Gruner Veltliner:
“You need to have me on your show, which I admire beyond all reason. Memoir, My Mistake, coming out mid-November. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Very famous man. To myself. And even more famous to my dog. I have written for just about everywhere and I know things, a lot of things, about publishing and The New Yorker and the fear of death and how to overcome it. (The fear–not death. Not yet.) You can Google me–I know you know how. I am 72 and look like a man three or four years my junior. I was going to connive and work the room to get your attention, but then I thought, Why not be direct, so you can see whence the title of the book. [Here I put the quotes for the book, which are available elsewhere on this site and on the sandwich board i wear just about wherever I go these days.]”
Friday, September 13, 2013
The editor of “My Mistake” has just reconfirmed the aptness of the book’s title by emailing me two factual corrections from an unnamed person who “adored” the book. They are bad mistakes–one small, one monstrous. The small one is that after lunch at the Century Association in New York, I say that my host “signed the check.” Well, there are no checks at the CA. Members sign the orders when the orders are placed, and the charges go on their accounts without further Hancocking. The monstrous one is my recollection that during an oral exam in college, the professor mentioned “Rembrandt and his apprentices” and I triumphantly said, “Rembrandt had no apprentices,” and the examiner was impressed. But: Wrong. All wrong. R did have apprentices. The examiner couldn’t have been impressed. Maybe I didn’t even go to that college. Where did this so-called memory come from? And to think that I was an ace fact checker in my time!
Every time we remember something, neuroscientists tell us, we are remembering only our last memory of that something. But still, there has to have been something that happened fifty years ago that gave rise to this self-congratulatory fabrication. I am going to track it down. If I remember to.
P.S. Dept. of No One Cares But Me: I did remember, and there was! From a piece I found on jstor.org:
“It has already become clear that—unlike the practice in Rubens’s workshop—studio collaboration with Rembrandt primarily entailed the production of entire paintings and that those were either copies of the original from the master’s hand, or more-or-less original inventions which often used motifs from his work and often imitated his style…. There is as yet no evidence of large compositions, whether history paintings or group portraits, having been executed in part by pupils following the master’s design…”
So now the adorer of my book who sent the corrigenda to my editor can adore it even more. Who IS it, I wonder? Why didn’t my editor tell me? Doesn’t everyone want to know who adores him or her?
Friday, September 06, 2013
I was planning to discuss the semiotics of Aflac commercials, but then this showed up, from Kirkus, and, well …
“A well-known editor’s funny and thoughtful memoir of wrong turns, both in and out of publishing.
As Menaker (A Good Talk: The Story and Skill of Conversation, 2010, etc.) sums up his life, he can’t get past his mistakes—the big ones he’ll never stop paying for and the small ones that changed his life. As a young man, he goaded his older brother during a game of touch football, leading to his brother’s fatal injury and leaving himself with a lifetime of guilt. He smoked, quit and got lung cancer years later. He began working for the New Yorker, where it was easy to sweat the small stuff under the famously idiosyncratic editorship of William Shawn. Urged to find another job, he stayed for 26 years, skating on thin ice even as he climbed the editorial chain. There were rules of decorum (“You don’t say ‘Hi’ to Mr. Shawn—you say ‘Hello’ ”) and regular surprises on what would or would not pass the Shawn smell test. When Menaker suggested ending a story with a mild pun, Shawn told him it “would destroy the magazine.” “What you want to write is an article,” Shawn admonished him at one point, “and the New Yorker doesn’t publish…articles.” On the plus side, Menaker learned high-level editing, not just from Shawn, but from the contrasting examples of magazine stalwarts Roger Angell (rough and tumble) and William Maxwell (kind and gentle). After the Tina Brown coup, Menaker moved on to Random House, where he eventually became editor-in-chief, wrestling to stay afloat and to stay alive.
Menaker doesn’t just recount experiences; he digs away at them with wit and astute reflection, looking for the pattern of a life that defies easy profit-and-loss lessons.”
Monday, September 02, 2013
In 1982, someone got the smart idea to put together a parody of the Wall Street Journal. Someone asked me if I would contribute a piece, and so I wrote what turned out to be the lead story, “Christians Seek Controlling Interest in Jewish Faith.” It was about the corporatesque acquisition of Jews by Christians, with per-share prices and other “financial” details, and it had the Christian acquirers trying to speak Yiddish and Jews shrugging their shoulders in indifference. It was funny enough. Here are some of the specs:
APRIL 1, 1982
Off The Wall Street Journal
Editor: Tony Hendra
Off The Wall Editor: Robert Vare
Art Directors: David Kaestle, Richard Yeend
Conceived by: David Blum, Terri Minsky
Published by: Off The Wall Street Journal Inc. (David Blum, Terri Minsky, Jon Meyersohn, Peter Cohn, Barry Kaplovitz, Douglas Miller, Michelle Pleskow, Martin Sumner) and Larry Durocher
Lede story: “Christians Seek Controlling Interest In Jewish Faith,” by Daniel Menaker
Writers/artists: Kurt Andersen, Allan Belcher, Tom Benford, David Bennett, David Blum, Elliott Brown, Christopher Browne, Cathy Canzani, Brooks Clark, Peter Cohn, Glenn Collins, Steven Crist, Valerie Drysdale, Jack Egan, Randy Enos, Richard Erlanger, William Flanagan, Phil Franke, Tony Geiss, Jeff Greenfield, Lewis Grossberger, Ken Hauser, B. Joyce Jamison, Gerry Jonas, Sean Kelly, N.R. Kleinfeld, Gregg Kilday, Phil Koenig, Lim Lukas, J. Anthony Lukas, Bruce McCall, Cyra McFadden, Daniel Menaker, Ellen Meshnick, Rick Meyerowitz, Jon Meyersohn, Eddie Novak, Tom O’Hanlan, David Owen, Lisa Powers, Steve Radlauer, Bob Rakita, Nancy Saarinen, David Saltzman, Mark Schubin, Jim Sherman, Andrew Tobias, Elizabeth Van Italie, Ellis Weiner, Chris Welles, Mike Wilkins
The parody issue sold 337,000 copies, if I’m not mistaken. Financial shenanigans or small print of some kind limited contributors’–or at least this contributor’s–payments to three figures, as I recall. Except for that unfunny wrinkle, the enterprise was great fun, and as you can see above, it included the work of some people who went on or continued to be famous. It puzzles me now, since I don’t have a copy of the thing (am trying to get one), what J. Anthony Lukas, Kurt Andersen, N. R. (“Sonny”) Kleinfield and a few others could have written for a parody of the WSJ. But there they are.
Now, the Editor of this sendup was Tony Hendra. He later went on to write Father Joe–about his spiritual relationship with a marvelously colorful Catholic priest–which I edited and published at Random House. It was a very good book. Don Imus pushed the book relentlessly. After a few weeks high on bestseller lists, this book–which was at first, perhaps presciently, underestimated and undersold by Random House–was torpedoed and sunk by Hendra’s daughter Jessica’s allegations of sexual abuse by her father when she was a child. Who wrote the front-page New York Times story about these accusations? N. R. Kleinfield. Weird.
But also, what a weird decision it was by the Times to print the piece! It included some semi-graphic detail and may have torpedoed the book, but the publication of Kleinfield’s article itself ignited intense debate in the world of journalism about whether a newspaper should run such accusations when they are unprovable (which is, most unfortunately, usually the case). I spoke heatedly against the paper’s decision to Daniel Okrent, who was then the Times‘ Public Editor, and so did others, no doubt, and he subsequently wrote this column about the controversy.
Now, I don’t know, and neither do you, whether Hendra molested his daughter. But to this day–when I’ve been reminded of the incident by the Times’ review of the book by the girl (now a fifty-year-old woman) whom Roman Polanski interfered with in 1977– I have no such uncertainty about the Times’ Hendra decision. It was wrong. The Times is like a miracle, every single day, but it is human, and humans make mistakes.
P.S. (Full Circle Department). Anent my Wall Street Journal parody-issue piece about Christians acquiring Jews: a) A friend told me it was anti-Semitic. It wasn’t. b) Daniel Okrent went on to do many other wonderful things, including, most recently, conceiving of and producing the revue “Old Jews Telling Jokes.”