Collected Miscellany

One of the things you hear tossed around frequently is “blogs are a conversation.” While this may be a cliche at this point it is nevertheless true (which is often the case) that a key selling point of blogs are there “two way communication” tendencies. Unfortunately, this has not been true of late here at Collected Miscellany. For whatever reason I haven’t felt like there has been much feedback or interactive communication from fellow bloggers or the readers of this site.

To make sure this isn’t a structural problem I have done a couple of things:

– I have turned of the registration required format of the comments. You can now comment without being registered. I originally switched to registration only to stop the spam, but it also stopped comments. Hopefully, we can have comments without being overwhelmed by spam.

– I have set up an easy to use feedback/comment box. Just want to send a quick note or comment about the site? Got a quick question? This comment form will do the trick.

– I have also set up an “About Collected Miscellany and Our Contributors” page (still a bit of a work-in-progress). This page has a little introduction to the site and lists the contributors, their emails, and a short about paragraph. I hope this helps people get a sense of where we are coming from and will encourage them to communicate with contributors.

I have never been a compulsive writer; someone compelled to write whether there is someone reading or not. So it does mean a lot to me when people comment and give feedback; whether that is through the their own posts, the comment section, email, track-backs, etc. As always if you have any ideas, questions, or concerns feel free to contact me. And thanks for reading.

As a would-be author, I like to fantasize that if I write it, they will read–they being millions, if not hundreds, of readers. I don’t want to be famous; I just want to be read. But in the publishing world, many people work behind the scenes to produce and draw attention to a book. I have had the privilege of corresponding with one of those booklovers in the shadows. Kelly Hughes is president of DeChant-Hughes & Assoc, Inc, a Chicago-based public relations agency specializing in national media coverage for books on religious thought, spirituality, family life issues, personal growth, social and cultural issues and pop culture. Here are a few questions about her work and her love of books.

How does the publicity process work? Do you bid for services with a publisher? Are fees relative to sales?

Kelly Hughes (KH): Generally, a publisher contacts me months before pub date to tell me about the book and check my interest in submitting a proposal. The proposal outlines my recommendations for the publicity campaign, along with fees and an estimate of expenses. Fees are not relative to sales, although a publisher’s expectation of how well a book will do may influence their decision on whether to retain outside PR help.

How many books do you read in a week or month? Is it all for business purposes or are you able to get in some leisure reading?

KH: It’s difficult to quantify because I have to read so many books for work. I do manage to find time for personal reading, too. I am reading three books this week, two for work, and one for me: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson.

I see that your firm marketed Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie. Was it anticipated to be a long-term bestseller before its release?

KH: Mitch always believed in the book and its potential to change lives.

Continue reading →

Spring can be a wonderful time. The weather here in Ohio isn’t the main attraction by any means, but sometimes a beautiful day can really catch you by surprise. We have had a couple of such days in recent weeks so I have tried to complain less and enjoy more. Warning: this may result in less posting here!

Two recent findings have also made me happy and I thought I would share:

– John Prine has a new album coming out this month. I heard a track last night and was practically giddy about it. Reserve your copy now:

– I also recently discovered that William F. Buckley has published another Blackford Oakes novel. Since I read everything the man publishes, I picked it up of course. This one is likely to be the last Oakes volume (hence the title) so I plan to enjoy it:

What are you enjoying about spring so far?

About The Dime is one of the stories in All This Heavenly Glory published by Little, Brown & Company with no apparent regard for the current state of affairs in publishing. This is about the writing and Elizabeth Crane can buckle your knees faster than a Randy Johnson slider. Charlotte Anne Byers, aged nine and a half, sets off from LaGuardia to Grand Rapids, Iowa, a journey from mom’s house in Manhattan to dad’s in the midwest. In an act of motherly precaution a dime has been sewed into the lining of Charlotte Anne’s Samsonite; it’s for emergencies, for that phone call or as the author puts it:

About this dime: this is not any kind of factory mishap or practical joke by humorously minded Samsonite workers. The dime has been placed there by Charlotte Anne’s mother. Much is made of the dime in the weeks before C.A.’s departure. “It’s for the phone call” her mother had said. “In case of emergency.

Charlotte Anne is only slightly aware of her new role as political football. She takes her trip to Iowa in stride, in fact, she enjoys meeting her new half-siblings and discovering the liberties allowed in her father’s household. Coincidence of names of spouses throws her briefly, but CA is a trouper. After a month in Iowa, she returns home. Her mother informs that she’s gained weight while CA muses that she’d liked to be told that she was missed.

All This Heavenly Glory is a novel written by conjoining short stories linked by the main character. From time to time I’ll pick up the book and tell you about one of the stories. Eventually, you’ll just go buy the book if only to prevent me from tormenting all of you. If Elizabeth Crane’s work could be compared to say, Fenway Park, your reporter is the guy in the Bosox cap throwing beer at Gary Sheffield.

In a post earlier this week I said Ken Bruen’s latest novel is the best book I’ve read this year. The Magdalen Martyrs is part of series of books set in Galway, Ireland that feature Jack Taylor. The book was published in the US by St. Martins Minotaur.

Bruen takes all the elements of fiction, let alone crime fiction, and gives them a hard twist. Structure, theme, setting, plot, characterization are all working all the time, sometimes panting to keep up, sometimes snapped off at the knees by a bolt of electric prose.

Ken Bruen organizes his story into chapters but that’s largely a convenience for the reader. They read more like sonnets especially those that refer to the Magdalens, Irish girls whose misfortune was to be in the care of a woman known as Lucifer. He frames most of the sections with quotes from sources as diverse as Ralph Waldo Emerson and George Pelecanos. Loss is seen for what it is, not a singular event, but a constant, the shadow across the sidewalk, hard glances, raised eyebrows, clenched fists. This is a theme driven novel in the finest sense; it defines who Jack Taylor is, why he does the things he does, unifying cause and effect so that the plot develops the feel of inevitability.

Jack, ex of the Garda, is hired to look into the case of the Magdalens. Bill Cassel, local tough guy, wants Jack to locate a woman who helped Cassel’s mother escape the Magdalen Laundry, a home for wayward girls. Cassel is a dangerous thug and Jack isn’t safe on the streets of his native Galway. Jack is also investigating a mysterious woman whose husband may have been murdered. And two young men have met violent ends, executed for no apparent reason.

Jack struggles with alcohol and struggles more without it. He surrounds himself with books, detests his mother and her attendant priest, lives in a hotel on what seems like an hour to hour basis. He offends friend and foe in equal measure creating a continuous free fire zone in interpersonal relations. When he meets a female guard whose Irish name is Brid Nic an Iomaire he calls her by the English derivation, Ridge. Nothing is left to chance, Jack alienates everyone.

The book’s resolution is as neat as a shot of Bushmills. It’s the one flaw in the story where Bruen accedes to the novel form and the obligations of his genre. This conflict between the author and his form goes to the romantic soul of the book. Through all the violence, heartache, rage and disappointment, the pale light of hope filters through the opaque curtain of nastiness.

Bruen makes liberal use of pop culture references, sometimes to prompt a response from his character, sometimes to drop the mask and smack the reader. The fact that this works most of the time is nothing short of miraculous. The Magdalen Martyrs often teeters on the brink of chaos. The cadence and structure might seem jarring to some readers. Think of the book as an epic poem concealed within a crime novel. Somewhere between Robert Blake and Moliere, Ken Bruen is carving up the boundaries of where genre fiction dares to go.

In a post earlier this week I said Ken Bruen’s latest novel is the best book I’ve read this year. The Magdalen Martyrs is part of series of books set in Galway, Ireland that feature Jack Taylor. The book was published in the US by St. Martins Minotaur.

Bruen takes all the elements of fiction, let alone crime fiction, and gives them a hard twist. Structure, theme, setting, plot, characterization are all working all the time, sometimes panting to keep up, sometimes snapped off at the knees by a bolt of electric prose.

Ken Bruen organizes his story into chapters but that’s largely a convenience for the reader. They read more like sonnets especially those that refer to the Magdalens, Irish girls whose misfortune was to be in the care of a woman known as Lucifer. He frames most of the sections with quotes from sources as diverse as Ralph Waldo Emerson and George Pelecanos. Loss is seen for what it is, not a singular event, but a constant, the shadow across the sidewalk, hard glances, raised eyebrows, clenched fists. This is a theme driven novel in the finest sense; it defines who Jack Taylor is, why he does the things he does, unifying cause and effect so that the plot develops the feel of inevitability.

Jack, ex of the Garda, is hired to look into the case of the Magdalens. Bill Cassel, local tough guy, wants Jack to locate a woman who helped Cassel’s mother escape the Magdalen Laundry, a home for wayward girls. Cassel is a dangerous thug and Jack isn’t safe on the streets of his native Galway. Jack is also investigating a mysterious woman whose husband may have been murdered. And two young men have met violent ends, executed for no apparent reason.

Jack struggles with alcohol and struggles more without it. He surrounds himself with books, detests his mother and her attendant priest, lives in a hotel on what seems like an hour to hour basis. He offends friend and foe in equal measure creating a continuous free fire zone in interpersonal relations. When he meets a female guard whose Irish name is Brid Nic an Iomaire he calls her by the English derivation, Ridge. Nothing is left to chance, Jack alienates everyone.

The book’s resolution is as neat as a shot of Bushmills. It’s the one flaw in the story where Bruen accedes to the novel form and the obligations of his genre. This conflict between the author and his form goes to the romantic soul of the book. Through all the violence, heartache, rage and disappointment, the pale light of hope filters through the opaque curtain of nastiness.

Bruen makes liberal use of pop culture references, sometimes to prompt a response from his character, sometimes to drop the mask and smack the reader. The fact that this works most of the time is nothing short of miraculous. The Magdalen Martyrs often teeters on the brink of chaos. The cadence and structure might seem jarring to some readers. Think of the book as an epic poem concealed within a crime novel. Somewhere between Robert Blake and Moliere, Ken Bruen is carving up the boundaries of where genre fiction dares to go.