Thursday, April 26, 2007

Patrick Crean -- editor, publisher (Thomas Allen)

Patrick Crean of Thomas Allen Publishers:


1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?

I think this is something of an exaggeration, but it is true to say that there has been a concerted effort in North America to ‘dumb down’ the culture. This arises from the corporatist ethos which is to essentially ‘farm’ humans in order to make as much money as possible. This is being achieved through the numbing effects of television and other technologies on the population - which encourage people not to think, but to passively accept. This, coupled with a massive focus on pandering to the lowest common denominator, means the population slowly and gladly wallows more and more in the metaphorical hamburger franchises across the culture.

Perhaps the problem stems also from the late 20th century explosion and cacophony of popular mass culture – fueled by technology and corporatism - all around us, which makes it really difficult to see and hear carefully, to discern what is of value and what will last. That coupled with the fact that we live in an accelerated culture which does not allow for continuity, proper judgment or necessary stillness. This creates anxiety and uncertainty.

Books as such resist this by and large, but the reader is bombarded with so many distractions that it is becoming more difficult to spend concentrated reading time with a book. While reading habits in Canada are holding according to surveys (they are at the same level they were 20 years ago- but are dropping in the USA), there are more books being published than ever before – so the reader has even more choice. In the end, unless George Orwell was right in a literal sense with his dystopian 1984, literature will always survive, as will the book, a hardy technology if ever there was one.


2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the traditional novel be considered the prime example of it?

Ezra Pound put it succinctly when he said – and I paraphrase - that literature was news that stayed relevant. He meant those works of fiction, of the imagination that will last and be read years from now. It is interesting to look at the bestseller lists, say, of the 1920s, where one would be hard-pressed to recognize virtually anything that is read today, with a few notable exceptions. As someone said: Today’s bestseller lists are tomorrow’s obituary columns.

I think there are other forms than the novel that do serve this vital purpose, works of philosophy and ideas, as well as literary non-fiction such as Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front, and Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song, to name a few ‘creative’ non-fiction titles – but finally, yes, I think it is the novel that still has pride of place in the sense of embodying what is vital to the culture because it deploys language and the use of the human imagination in ways no other literary form does.


3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.

Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?

Somewhere in Alice In Wonderland there is a reference to the fact that there shall be prizes for all. The surge in prizes over the past 30 years or so is a two-edged sword. Yes, it is wonderful for the winning author and his/her publisher, but I think it does create a kind of laziness in the media, and with readers who get spoon-fed with books because Oprah said so. How convenient to have juries provide us with short-lists. How exciting to read a book a celebrity has picked! How much time is saved for readers and media in an era of too-much choice!

Prizes are also the one portal that authors and publishers have to the world of celebrity, the drug of modern culture. How irresistible is the glitter of prize lust! Who doesn’t want to be rich and famous? It is worth noting that some of the giants of modern literature never won prizes. James Joyce never won a damn thing. On the other hand, Malcolm Lowry garnered overnight fame for Under the Volcano, and the attention ruined him and he never wrote another book of note. So, yes, it is dangerous. There is no such thing as a best book. For a body of work, yes, but that’s another matter.

I must in the end confess that our authors at Thomas Allen (Austin Clarke and David Gilmour) have won both the Giller (2002) and the Governor-General’s Award for Fiction (2005) respectively, and that has been a tremendous boon to their reputations and the reputation of the house. I say this because winning prizes is terrific when it happens to you. But it does mean that there are many other authors who do not win and whose books won’t get the same kind of attention. This creates a terrible ambivalence about prizes in publishers.


4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?

It’s certainly under protracted siege, especially at the big branch plant multi-national houses, where the bottom line and the corporate ethos rules. I’m not so sure this is happening elsewhere in Canada, however. This cult of the deal is an American phenomenon. In Canada we work in what is arguably the world’s most difficult book market, because we share a common language with our American and British cousins and so have to compete with a flood of imports. The market is more finite here, less elastic like the USA. So there is a limit on how high advances can go here. While it is true that these factors coupled with a very difficult delivery system (one chain – one monopoly – and very few good independents left) make it harder and harder to publish high literature, the “art” of literary writing will never die – it will find it’s way even if it has to resort to small presses or even self-publishing.


5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?

Not at all. We live in an age of “confession” and there are more people out there writing than ever before. My first job in book publishing (1971) was as McClelland & Stewart’s unsolicited manuscript reader. I looked at some 5000 Mss in 9 months and only one got published. Yes, there are always Cinderella stories about the slush pile, but it is so time-consuming and there is so much mind-numbing junk, that it is hardly worth it any more. Good writing will always prevail. If Confederacy of Dunces finally got published (after the author was rejected over and over again and finally committed suicide, and then his mother at last found a university press to publish what has become a classic), then we can trust in either chaos theory of the synchronous nature of the universe for good books to find their way. For starters we can look to the literary composting of the literary magazines and small literary presses to find new voices.


6. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?

You can’t compare small literary presses to the big houses. It’s apples and oranges. The small presses try their best, but they simply don’t have the resources of the multi-nationals. Unfortunately, the way it goes is that it is often the small presses who discover the new talent, publishes it, and then the author moves on to the bigger lights of large presses. That’s just life in the barnyard. But the small presses perform an absolutely vital role in the ecology of Canadian literary publishing. Porcupine’s Quill was a good example of this (until John Metcalf left the press).



7. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?

It really depends on the agent. Too powerful? Not in Canada. That’s an American phenomenon. The likes of Andrew Wiley would be an example. But here, as I point out, the resources are limited, so agents can be very influential, but certainly not as ‘powerful’ as their American cousins.

I think they are helpful in the sense that you don’t have to do business with the author: it’s taken care of by the agent – and so you can concentrate on editing and publishing the author.

My only caveat would be that the most important relationship that exists in publishing (besides the publisher and his banker) is that of the editor and the author. If an author finds an editor he/she trusts and can work with, that is gold. Agents should not interfere with that, nor should they edit authors’ Mss.


8. Does Canada have too many publishers? Or too few?

Difficult question. We live in a democracy wherein freedom of speech is sacrosanct. Anybody could become a publisher in theory. What I worry about is there being too many mediocre publishers in Canada. For a population of some 33 million, we have something like 150-200 book publishers. Is that too many? I don’t know. I think there are too many books being published, and there are too many ineffectual and undistinguished presses being subsidized by the gov’t.


9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?

Not very much. As I said, the book is a hardy and clever technology that is hard to improve on. Yes, there will be more e-books and there is a thriving audio book market, but I would wager that this will only remain a small percentage of the market. The reason is that technology’s aesthetic is dull and monochromatic, and in the end can’t compete with the tactile nature of the book. Humans still like to hold, touch, smell, riffle, mark up and feel books. Until that changes and we morph into techno-mutants, the book will still occupy bookshelves across the culture.


10. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?

Jury may still be out on this one. Word of mouth is still the best way to sell books and so in theory you could take that to an exponential level with the Net. Trouble is the Net is such a free-for-all it is still difficult to find the right target audiences. But we’re working on it.


11. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?

Continue to do what they do best. Making books available in libraries and teaching literature in colleges in an inspired and engaging way. To continue trying to imbue a love of reading in students and to bring literature alive and out of the deconstructionist dust bin.


12. What projects are you working on now that you are excited about?

New fiction coming up this September ‘07 from Roy MacSkimming and Ray Robertson.

MacSkimming has conjured an extraordinary novelistic recreation of the last days of Canada’s indomitable first Prime Minister, Sir John A. Macdonald. The novel is entitled Macdonald. It’s a brilliant portrait of a young emerging nation and its greatest champion.

This fall is the 50th anniversary of the publication of Jack Kerouac’s iconic On the Road, and Ray Robertson has written a clever fiction entitled What Happened Later with two stories that intersect in highly original ways: one about Kerouac’s last road trip to Quebec and the other about a young boy whose discovery of On the Road will change his life forever.

There’s more too: some excellent non-fiction from David Gilmour entitled The Film Club about some unusual home-schooling using scenes from classic movies to illuminate his drop-out son. And then there’s B.W.Powe, one of Canada’s most original public intellectuals, with his new book on what is was that haunted Pierre Trudeau entitled Mystic Trudeau.

Bio: Educated at Upper Canada College and Queens University, Patrick Crean grew up in a peripatetic foreign service family and lived in various European capitals including Paris, London, Belgrade, Rome, and Bonn where his father was Canadian Ambassador.

He began his career at McClelland & Stewart, rising to the position of acquisitions editor. Since then, he has worked for a variety of major Canadian publishing houses. At both Somerville House publishing and Key Porter Books he had his own imprint.

Noted for publishing original voices, fine writing, and uncommon ideas, he has tended to focus on literary fiction, culture and technology, travel writing, metaphysics, philosophy, history and memoir.

Over the years he has worked with a wide range of authors. A number of his authors have won or been nominated for literary awards, including Greg Hollingshead whose collection of stories The Roaring Girl won the Governor Generals Award for Fiction in 1995, Austin Clarke whose novel The Polished Hoe won the Giller Prize in 2002, the Commonwealth Prize and the Trillium Award in 2003, Brian Fawcett who won the 2004 Pearson Writers Trust Non-fiction Award for his book Virtual Clearcut, and David Gilmour who won the 2005 Governor Generals Award for Fiction for his novel A Perfect Night to Go to China.

In 2000, he was appointed Publisher of Thomas Allen & Son.


Friday, April 20, 2007

DEFINE "CRAZY" -- a TRUTH MARATHON excerpt

DEFINE "CRAZY" --
A TRUTH MARATHON excerpt


Recap: Paul, a teacher of English as a Foreign Language, is on the rebound after breaking up with his girlfriend, a beautiful Korean-Canadian named Sarah. Both Paul and Sarah work at the same high-stress, low-paying private school, and now -- performing the post-relationship dance (assiduously avoiding each other in the hallway while stealing glances) -- Paul is trying to take his mind off his troubles by having some beer with several other co-workers.

He sits with a gang of workplace friends who are in the habit of gathering every week at the same pub: Leslie, Andrew, and Marty. As Paul has begun the process of consuming increasingly copious amounts of alcohol, the conversation has taken several turns, including discussing the strange and/or rude behaviour of several students. But now it has settled down, and the teachers are back to one of their favourite topics: how little they get paid.

It's an issue that has some unexpected implications, a few of which the liberal-minded Paul and the
aggressively conservative Marty don't exactly see eye to eye on. But this is to be expected: Marty simply doesn't know what Paul is going through in his own life, as he tries to deal both with post-break-up heartache and worries about his conspiracy-obsessed, mentally unstable father.


INT. THE PUB. AN HOUR LATER.

PAUL: [to a server] A large pitcher, please.

LESLIE: You’re knocking them back.

PAUL: We’re all drinking together.

LESLIE: Yeah. But you’re drinking. We’re just keeping up.

Paul simply takes a long sip from his glass of draft.

SFX: The constant aural rattle of the patron-filled pub: people at all the tables engaged in loud conversations; rock music over the sound system; waiters walking quickly back and forth,

Paul takes another sip of beer and regards the wait staff. The expression on his face is simultaneously one of fascination and stupefaction. He's not holding his liquor well. Even the way he is slouched on his seat suggests his level of drunkenness.

PAUL: [looking at a waiter as he takes an order at the next table] Maybe I should get a job like that.

LESLIE: [amused] Thinking of a career change?

PAUL: Why not? They probably get more money than we do.

LESLIE: No. Not more money. Just more tips.

PAUL: Same diff.

MARTY: Yeah, being a waiter would rock. I had a roommate who did it. He had so much shit. A really nice motorcyle. A spankin’ stereo. And he could fuck off and take vacations whenever he wanted.

PAUL: Yeah, I had a roommate like that once too. As for me, I was just painting houses all summer. I felt like such a sucker. Shoulda either got a job at some yuppie pub or gone on welfare.

MARTY: Nahhhhh!

PAUL: I’m serious. All fuckin’ summer I worked like a dog. And all I ended up with was a $1000 bucks in the bank.

MARTY: That’s something.

PAUL: Barely. I was still in school. It barely dented tuition. In fact, I would’ve got a better deal on tuition if I’d been on welfare. At that time, anyway.

MARTY: That’s bullshit, man! You can’t do stuff like that!

PAUL: Why not?

MARTY: That’s taxpayer money.

PAUL: I’m just saying. And anyway, what if I did? I was poor. And I was paying taxes. And I could barely cover my rent. And then Studly my roommate was bringing home cash every night. And he wasn’t paying tax on it. He used to boast about it. Throw it in my face.

MARTY: Anybody on welfare should get it for a maximum of six months. Period. It’s a hand up, not a hand out.

LESLIE: What about people with disabilities?

MARTY: Same. Six months. After that they can get a job in some protected factory or something.

LESLIE: What protected factories? Like the ones in China?

Marty shrugs obstinately.

MARTY: Six months. That’s my max as a tax payer. And half of people with “disabilities” are faking it anyway.

ANDREW: Oh, come on. How do you know that?

MARTY: It’s true! Like those guys you see begging for money on Yonge Street. I talked to one one day, and I said why don’t you get a job, and he told me he had a friggin’ “mental disability”. Bullshit, man! He had an attitude disability.

ANDREW: If he’s been assessed by a doctor, you've gotta accept it.

Marty snorts.

Paul, who’s very drunk by this point, looks at Marty.

PAUL: [blurting] That’s sick. That’s Nazi. That’s just millimeters away from killing retarded people.

MARTY: No one’s gonna kill them.

PAUL: Yes. It’s killing them. By degrees. How else are they gonna survive? Whadda you know about mental health issues?

MARTY: Enough to know a faker when I see one.

PAUL: Bullshit, man!

MARTY: Well, bullshit to you, too!

Beat

PAUL: You know what your problem is, Marty?

Andrew and Leslie look at this exchange with don’t-say-it expressions.


MARTY: [with smoldering hostility] What?



[End of excerpt. To see more of TRUTH MARATHON, click here]

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Upcoming

Note the following interviews should be upcoming soon:


Adam Bellow of Random House and The New Pamphleteer


Brian Kaufman of The Anvil Press

Patrick Crean of Thomas Allen Publishers

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Jordan Jones -- writer, publisher (Leaping Dog Press)

Jordan Jones of Leaping Dog Press:


1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?


Literature is definitely dying. We live in a post-literate culture, with the attention span of small furry woodland creatures. The causes are many: television, video games, the internet, the telephone. The 20th century has mustered a full-scale assault on thought and communication.


2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the novel be considered the prime example of it?


Literature is the nuanced written communication of human emotion, predicament, and passion. The novel is *a* prime example, but so are drama, poetry, the short story, and evocative non-fiction.



3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.

Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?



Literature should be considered a calling, not a career. Prizes and the MFA programs (and I admit here that I contributed to the latter by taking an MA in Creative Writing), have turned out to be part of the death throes of literature. Occasionally the top prizes (Prix Goncourt, Nobel, Whitbread, etc.) will help get notice for work that might otherwise not get the notice it should. But there were years in the later life of James Joyce when no one was awarded a Nobel prize in literature because no worthy writers could be found. Awards can be as political as anything else.


4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?



With a ten-fold increase in books published and a 50% decrease in column inches for reviews, it is now 20 times less likely that a small press title will get reviewed in the New York Times, Publishers Weekly, and the rest. Sales figures are dismally low for the literary titles.


5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?


If work is commercially viable, it will be agentable. However, more than the economically viable is worth publishing. Literary houses, which often have little to offer financially, don't much attract agented work, and they are the venue for those squeezed out. One possible trajectory here is that the economies of print-on-demand may make it [possible to keep publishing literary fiction].


6. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?


Agents are beneficial for the kinds of work they can sell. Of course, they can't create buyers, nor reverse the trend toward celebrity biographies and books by psychiatrists and medical doctors who have Oprah's ear. They sell ... what sells. That's their function.


7. Does America have too many publishers? Or too few?


Way too many. But too few of the big publishers will publish the kind of edgy fiction, let alone poetry, that the smaller houses handle. But the marketplace has gotten very confusing for readers. In the age of the internet and print-on-demand, it's difficult for a reader to have any sense whether the books they are coming across are of value.


8. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?


The "form" of the book is a pleasant thing, but it is rapidly being replaced by YouTube.



9. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?


There are many opportunities on the internet to find new audiences. But literature needs to expand beyond the bounds of the page, or even of the written word.


10. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?


They can buy it!


11. What projects are you working on now that you are excited about?


I am working on a play by Joe Martin, a playwright and director in Washington, DC's avant-garde theatre scene, about Rumi, the Persian mystic. Additionally, I'm working on a collaborative multimedia project with visual art, music, and fiction riffing on Borges by Rikki Ducornet and friends.



Bio: Jordan Jones is the author of Sand & Coal, published by Futharc Press in 1993. His poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and translations have appeared in The American Book Review, Asylum, The Boston Book Review, Fiction International, Heaven Bone, The LA Reader, The Review of Contemporary Fiction, and Small Press, as well as in the anthologies Anyone Is Possible: New American Short Fiction (Red Hen Press, 1998) and What Book!?: Buddha Poems from Beat to Hip Hop (Parallax Press, 1998). In 2004, Obscure Publications published Selections from The Wheel.

His translations of Rene Daumal's poetry collection Le Contre-Ciel appeared in two volumes from Obscure Publications in 2003 and 2004. His translation of Rene Daumal's novella Mugle is forthcoming from Leaping Dog Press.

He was co-editor of The Northridge Review and poetry editor of California Quarterly, and founded Bakunin (1990-1997), a literary magazine "for the dead Russian anarchist in all of us." In 2003, he co-founded and co-edited the online multimedia collaborative art exhibit, The 365 Project, (the365project.org). He is currently the editor and publisher of Leaping Dog Press and Asylum Arts Press, which has been publishing since 1980. LDP/AA has over fifty titles in print by a diverse group of authors, from Baudelaire to Nerval, from Stephen Dixon to Rikki Ducornet, from Richard Kostelanetz to Robert Peters.

He lives in the Neuse River Watershed of Wake County, North Carolina.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Jennifer Barnes -- Raw Dog Screaming Press

Jennifer Barnes of Raw Dog Screaming Press:


1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?


It's my opinion that quality art of all forms has been under attack in this country for years and the arts have taken heavy casualties. Not only literature but music, film, theater and visual arts have been affected. The entertainment industry has suffered from one corporate merger after another. But the corporate model simply doesn't work for developing talent. For instance, musicians used to have several albums to build up a following, to hone their sound, but now if the first album doesn't hit big the record company tosses the band aside. Unfortunately it's all about quarterly profits but quality art can take years, even a lifetime to develop. Also, something that is really worth creating probably isn't going to appeal to the whole mass of Americans. Constantly dumbing art down and editing it for political-correctness is almost guaranteed to reduce it to bland, unmemorable pap.

However, all is not gloom and doom! I think the forced homogeny and mediocrity of corporate projects has fomented indie ventures of all types. More people are making their own movies, starting their own publishing companies, bands are releasing their own cds. In fact, it's why we began Raw Dog Screaming Press, no one was releasing the books we wanted to buy, or supporting the authors we wanted to read, so we decided to do it ourselves. Our model is to work with the same authors, build their careers, allow them to grow and experiment as artists. We take a longer-term view and continue to promote releases for years afterwards. Each new release should hopefully bring attention to the author's previous books. Instead of aiming for one big seller we hope to release several books and get steady sales over a longer period of time.



2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the traditional novel be considered the prime example of it?


People much smarter people than me have been debating the definition of literature since before I was born and I don't know that I have much to add to the debate. Instead I'd rather throw fuel onto the fire with books like Steve Beard's Meat Puppet Cabaret which calls into question the definition of 'novel' by constructing a tale out of various distinct narratives including video game play, dream text and reality TV show. Or Steve Aylett's, And Your Point Is?, a book of critical essays on the work of fictional author Jeff Lint's fiction. I hope our releases test the limits of traditional literature.



3. Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.


Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?

I think that literary prizes are just another tool to get the word out about a book. The more buzz that can be created about any book in our mediatized culture the better. I certainly think awards have more merit than the 'bestseller' status accorded to a book simply because it sold a certain number of copies. I mean, what if every person who bought it felt cheated and thought the book was awful. I've read more than a few really terrible 'bestsellers' in my time! I don't think it's inherent that because a book hasn't won an award it isn't worth reading. But people who rely on awards to tell them what to read probably have lost the ability to think critically. In one of our upcoming releases, Dr. Identity, D. Harlan Wilson pokes fun at the establishment by awarding his own book The Stick Figure Prize for Language & Literature. The cover has a Noble Prize style emblem on it so it will be interesting to see what kind of attention that receives. But I have, on occasion, seriously considered trying to institute an award to recognize experimental or progressive literature because there are so many excellent works out there that have been essentially overlooked due to non-existent press coverage.



4. Literary publishing has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?


As I mentioned earlier I definitely think the emphasis placed on profit is at cross-purposes to producing the best, or even generally good, literature. That's exactly why the small press is thriving right now. Although we are not able to offer authors huge advances, we do our best to treat each release with respect and remember that it is a work of art into which the author has poured many hours of energy.



5. Many major publishers now refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?


I absolutely think that the quality of the titles being released by major publishers is suffering. I'm sure the low quality contributes to people's lack of interest in reading. Even though mass market paperbacks were always fluff the bar continues to sink lower. It used to be that if you wanted a fast and fun read you could pick up one up but these days they seem so riddled with errors and simple plot inconsistencies that instead of being hard to put down they are a trial to get through.



6. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?

I'm not sure the cause but I think there is very little correlation between the quality of an author's writing and the size of their following. I'd say a writer has virtually no chance of winning an audience based on writing alone. There is simply too much competition for the attention of the audience. It may not be fair or right but these days an author needs to be a bit of showman to win a following. Publishers don't sell books, authors sell books. When people meet the author, read an interview or see a post from them online that garners more interest than any print or banner ad can. I've read PR people from the major publishers saying the same thing; if the author doesn't get involved in promoting the book stands little chance of selling.



7. Returning to the question of agents -- are they too powerful? If so, in what ways? Or are they a largely beneficial and necessary element of contemporary publishing?


I have not had any dealings with agents but they seem like unnecessary middlemen. I think it's unlikely that they, as a group, are a good judge of talent and how could they know better than the publisher what the publisher is looking for? There may be certain individuals who are good scouts for talent but it's clear from the books the majors are releasing that the process is breaking down somewhere.



8. Does America have too many publishers? Or too few?


New publishers are springing up every day but they go out of business just as fast. I know from experience that starting from scratch is extremely difficult. There's a lot to learn and very little support. It seems like each publisher has to blaze their own trail. Often the quality suffers and a lot of works are released without adequate editing. What the scene needs are more mid-sized publishers with a solid track record and a clear audience. We need less huge conglomerates and less tiny upstarts.



9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?


These are just new formats that can be utilized to get a text out there. We try to release most of our titles as e-books because it's just one more way to reach the customer. We've also got an exciting audio book project coming up. Author Michael Arnzen is recording audio versions of some of his stories from 100 Jolts, a book of flash fiction that we released in 2004, which garnered a lot of critical acclaim attention from readers. It's titled Audiovile. However, he's not simply reading the stories but truly performing them and adding his own music and sound effects. The result is a lot more like a narrated 'song' than a dry reading. I'm also very interested in how podcasts can be used in conjunction with published books. Still, I don't think any of these things will replace actual books.



10. Putting aside the hype, does the Internet provide a real opportunity to publishers? If so, how?


RDSP would not exist without the internet. In fact, our company grew out of an online zine that we used to run, The Dream People (www.dreampeople.org). We have since turned it over to another editor but starting online gave us the chance to meet a lot of writers and get our feet wet without a major monetary investment. The internet allows us to locate the type of reader that is interested in our titles. We're able to get a lot of free publicity through blogs and web sites such as our own, our authors and sites like this one. It even helps with production since we can upload files to our printer's web site and even place orders. And there always seem to be new ways to promote books. For instance I've been testing out book 'teasers' for some of our upcoming releases. They're similar to trailers for movies. I've uploaded them to video sites like YouTube. For an example view the teaser for Ronald Damien Malfi's novel Via Dolorosa: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LBF5reOEBeA



11. And what role can traditional, venerable institutions
such as libraries and English Departments play in reversing the decline in sales of literary fiction?


Universities and libraries can be incubators for literary fiction. We've actually had pretty good luck getting our books taught in classes. Michael A. Arnzen's 100 Jolts: Shockingly Short Stories has been used several times as a text. There are discussion questions and writing prompts available to go with the book. Harold Jaffe's 15 Serial Killers has also been featured in a paper submitted to the ALA as well as being taught in college classrooms.

Many of our authors are professors which allows them to write without worrying where their next meal will come from. Although it's not the ideal situation for a writer, being a professor offers more flexibility for writing than many jobs. Most schools are supportive of the releases and often fund trips to conferences for promotion of the books. Libraries are also a great support. We are able to do hardcover releases for many of our books because libraries are willing to pay the higher price. Being able to put out hardcovers is important since review venues take the title more seriously if it's released as a hardcover. Actively promoting small press titles to the University community is a good way to establish a steady base of sales. It's not a huge market but it's consistent. That's why we are planning on attending both the AWP(Associated Writing Programs) and the ALA (American Library Association) conferences this year.



12. What projects are you working on now that you are excited about?

Well, we've just released an expanded edition of John Edward Lawson's novel Last Burn in Hell: Director's Cut. The story contains themes about the media so this edition mimics a DVD and contains an alternate ending, stills from the 'movie', deleted scenes, a soundtrack listing and other bonus material. So far people have really responded to the concept so we may do more editions like that. We're also releasing the first novel by D. Harlan Wilson, who previously has only done short stories. It's titled Dr. Identity or Farewell to Plaquedemia and will be the first book in the Scikungfi trilogy. It's a crazy ultra-violent sci-fi adventure packed with kung-fu action and riddled with ironic commentary on our culture in general and the academic system in particular. I am also looking forward to seeing where the bizarro movement goes in the coming year. It sprung out of some blog conversations with like-minded authors and publishers last year and spawned a collection, The Bizarro Starter Kit. But I think the authors have only begun to test the limits of where such a movement could go.


Bio: Jennifer Barnes is co-founder and managing editor of Raw Dog Screaming Press. She graduated from the University of Maryland with an English degree and a concentration in Poetry and Creative Writing. She has had numerous poems and articles published both in print and online. Most recently her poetry appeared in The Greatest Chapbook Ever, A Little Poetry, Ascent, and sidereality. She is also a graphic designer with over five years of web and print design experience.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

A Conversation with Jennifer Barnes at the Brooklyn Rail

My interview with Jennifer Barnes of Raw Dog Screaming Press is now up at The Brooklyn Rail. A longer version of the same interview will appear at this site in several days.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Ian Brown -- writer, arts journalist (The Globe and Mail), broadcaster (CBC radio, TVO)

Ian Brown -- writer, arts journalist (The Globe and Mail), and broadcaster (moderator of CBC radio's Talking Books, and host of TVO's Human Edge and The View From Here):



1. Literature is in trouble -- that is, more trouble than usual. Why do you think this is? The increasing prevalence of TV? The distractions of narcotic subcultures such as video games? Sept. 11? Or is talk of the "death of literature" simple exaggeration?

I don't think literature is in trouble. It may be taking new and mutant forms, but literature itself--written work whose value lies in the beauty of its language and its emotional effect--is more robust than ever. In fact, I would say we are living in the Second Renaissance that way. Of course, I include the writing in a TV show such as Rescue Me as literature, so my definition may be wider than most. But for all the crap we see--all the Oprah fare and over-promoted soap such as Clair Messud's last novel along with the more obvious dreck, such as Mitch Albom's books--there seems to be more good stuff around, pound for pound, than ever--whether it is in the form of blogs, The Believer Magazine, writerly nonfiction (tons of examples), script-writing, TV, graphic novels, or even the odd traditional novel.



2. And what is literature, anyway? Should the novel be considered the prime example of it?

See definition above, hence my belief that the novel is no longer the prime example of literature. Nor does it need to be. Too much attention can ossify a genre. If anything is in trouble, it's literary fiction--but again, only because there are so many alternative ways to consume good writing these days. The book itself is a fantastic technology, but literary fiction has some serious competition for my attention. For a long time, literary fiction--the short story and the novel--had valuable territory all to itself: that is, the emotional interior of a character's life. No other way of telling a story was as good at describing that interior as literary fiction--poetry came close, drama had its days, but the novel was King Consciousness. And maybe things got a little too comfortable. Because for reasons that are still unclear to me--maybe because literature took that dank detour through the arid fields of literary theory, as Phil Marchand suggested on this site a while ago--the actual story-telling skills of many so-called "literary novels" seemed to atrophy. Meanwhile everyone else--videographers, bloggers, the graphic folk, even journalists and critics--have been working like hell to develop new and more dashing ways of telling stories, technically. And it shows, at least by the measure of how much energy each of these story-telling forms is throwing off these days. And that's not to say that novelists can't also throw off energy if they want to--Jonathan Safran Foer is a good example of a guy who figured out how to tell his story not just one way, but in fifty ways.



3 .
Prizes and awards are playing an increasing role in determining an author's career-trajectory. In short, winning a major literary prize can win a writer a large audience overnight (not to mention, considerable fame and financial remuneration). But, as British critic Jason Cowley has observed, what is lost is the ability for readers to think in a critically complex fashion.

Are literary prizes dangerous in this regard? Do they convey to the public the message that "this book is worth reading and all these others aren't"?

I think prizes are largely artificial, and possibly dangerous, although I'm not sure that's the fault of the prize, per se, so much as it is our own susceptibility to awards, as consumers of books. (The only thing responsible for one's losing one's ability to think "in a critically complex fashion" is an insufficient diet of critically complex thinking--and whose fault is that?) I've had the nightmarish pleasure of sitting on writing prize juries, and I can't think of a single case where we ended up picking what I or anyone else thought was the best piece of writing. For starters you have to compromise with the picks of the other judges, who suddenly turn out to have zero literary taste despite their excellent taste in shoes or mini-skirts. Then the weird stuff starts happening--such as when someone says well, we need to have a women in the mix of finalists, or a Westerner. That sort of thing actually happens. To pretend that a book so chosen is "better" than another is absurd. I also think prizes tend to further commodify the business of publishing--they convey false value to ideas and writing, while undermining their real value, which is as ideas and writing in and of themselves. On the other hand, prizes--the Giller is a good example--lend much-needed glamour and pride to the literary community, which is undervalued in general. They may also attract readers to books in general, which is always a good thing. For the mind, I mean.



4. The publishing industry has always been a marriage of art and commerce. But in recent years, the Cult of the Deal has become more influential, with agents demanding larger advances and marketing people paying especially close attention to sales figures. Is the "art" side of the business being pushed out?

Real art is going to surface, no matter what--no matter how much agents and publishers and even readers conspire against it. For every publishing company that buys exit sales data from Barnes and Noble or Indigo to determine next fall's list, there are others that publish only what they want to read and publish. I admit it drives me crazy that a book like Tuesdays With Morrie--one of the shallowest, most craven books ever published--does so well while the short stories of, say, Sergei Dovlatov fail to sell. But again, that's not really the publishing industry's fault--it's our fault, the fault of readers. We keep choosing to read (or watch or listen to) shit, and then we wonder why modern life feels so empty. And personally, I have never had the experience of an editor or an agent saying, hey, Ian, make this more commercial. They seem to go instead for the most heartfelt ideas I can dream up, however unusual.


5. As well, should the Canadian cultural nationalism of the 1970s make a comeback? Do we need a "National Culture Policy" that will put more Canadian books front and center in bookstores?

Yes, we need a national culture policy, if only to compensate for our paltry numbers here in Canada. There are just too many American readers and too many American writers and too many American books, for starters, and the sheer force and size of their numbers would overwhelm Canadian writing and publishing without some help from our federal government. That policy helped make Canadian fiction an international success. Character may be destiny, but geography is a large part of character.


6. Many major houses refuse to accept "unsolicited" work; that is, they will not even consider work unless it is agented. Is this a sound policy from point of view of finding the best new literary voices? Isn't there a chance good writing will be squeezed out?

My experience as an editor suggests the opposite--that talent and good writing are in fact in permanent short supply, especially in a country that has only 32 million people. No one good is being ignored. I mean, I've read slush piles; you're lucky to find one salvageable piece in a hundred. I don't know where we get this idea that there are thousands and thousands of brilliant writers out there waiting to be read, but for the narrow greedy tastes of publishers. It isn't true. And look at some of the dreck that gets published anyway! And I mean in so-called "literary magazines" and by so called "literary presses," not just on self-published blogs. This so-called quality literary stuff lands on my desk at Talking Books all the time, and I can tell you a lot of it is terrifyingly bad. It can make your eyeballs spin out of your head at fifty paces. I sometimes think that publishers resort to formula so often not because it sells--it often doesn't, as it turns out--but because they have nothing else to publish, because good writing and inspired story-telling are in such short supply. It's a talent. It's rare.



7. Alternatively, for small presses that do accept unsolicited work, is the problem that the majors are squeezing the small houses at the distribution/retail marketing end? In other words, even when good writers get published by small houses, do they have a fair chance of winning an audience? Or are the major houses introducing an overly corporate, overly aggressive mentality to the book trade?

I don't know. I haven't found that to be the case. Winning an audience--to say nothing of keeping an audience--is very hard in any event, in any medium, even if you are published by a so-called "big" house. I suspect the roadblocks that do exist are most often erected by the chain bookstores, which do tend to stock only what they can turn over, and tend--this is what I hear from publishers, anyway--to be driven by a less literary, more bean-headed mentality. And then there are those scummy marketing ploys, such as the tables at a well-known chain marked "Great Books for Women" and "Great Books for Gardeners" and "Great Books for Airheads" and--oh, wait, sorry, that last one isn't one of them, I'm just imagining that. Still, getting a book on one of those tables costs money: the publisher has to pay for display. A small publisher likely can't afford that on his or her own. Yet another reason to support your local independent bookseller, if you ask me.


8. Does Canada have too many publishers? Or too few?

You can never have too many publishers.


9. In your opinion, how will new technologies such as the e-book or audio books affect the "form" of the book?

I'm not sure new technologies will affect the form of the book, except perhaps to make it more various. I mean, hypertext is interesting: it could replace the footnote, except that it's less convenient than footnotes, provided the footnotes are at the foot of the page, and not at the back, which is a dumb idea, in my humble O. Audio books seem like they ought to be a growing business, but I don't have any data to support that, and my agent once told me there isn't much money in them; I'm basing my contention solely on the number of middle-aged people I know who now own iPods and who now listen to audiobooks while they're on a plane, avoiding the crap movie and the nuked food. But then, they're just as likely to be watching their own movie or listening to a Ricky Gervais podcast of Carl Pocklington's apercus, aren't they? The dedicated e-book is a loser, I think, at least at this point--it's just too hard to read for long off a screen, and too cumbersome. For research--yes, of course, online is the present and the future. But plain old books, as a technology, are very hard to beat. They are portable, sturdy, they don't require batteries or recharging, and--most important--they are private and personal and rare in ways that the iPod and the eBook can never be, by definition. Electronic text has a shared feel; physical books feel like they are one's own, a private, personal thing. I realize I sound crazy, but I think that's a very important difference.


10. You have worked across media for several years now: "Man Overboard" was both a book and a TV show. You work in print and broadcast journalism. But there seems to be a particular reticence in Canada to seeing that kind of Renaissance cultural activity as, well, Renaissance.

I'm not sure I agree about the reticence. I think some members of the literary establishment still look down their noses at TV or radio, or at the prospect of dealing with books and literary themes on radio and TV, but those people are rare now, and probably look down their noses at newspapers and the internet too. I also run into the odd academic who gets snotty when one of the rabble dabbles in his or her specialty. The biggest problem in that regard is that these new media are still new: for instance, we still haven't figured out how to talk about books on TV, unless it's a fast-hit, end of year, this-is-what-to-buy kind of thing. TV doesn't lend itself to long abstract conversations the way radio and print do, and long discussions are what you need when you talk about books.

But having said that: as a writer, things have never been better. I mean, I recently wrote a story about culling one's books, and what a grand and impossible endeavor that is. I wrote the piece for the Globe, and it was 5,000 words long--two entire pages of the broadsheet. But since it was published I have had discussions about turning the piece not just into a book, but into a TV story--an actual narrative--as well. And that's a story about tidying up your library.

Why the interest in such an obscure subject? Because--and this may be the real answer to Question 9--there is a huge hunger these days for stories that are not on the official media agenda (and I think most bloggers are now pretty much on the official agenda too). One of the ironic consequences of the information explosion--the internet, cable, the iPod, etc--has been that the same 5 percent of human experience (the news, the daily stuff that gets wired around the world, the daily agenda that everyone talks about, the standard concepts and topics) gets talked about over and over and over again. You know how it works: CNN goes big on O.J., so all the papers have to go big on O.J. too, whereupon NBC and CBC go bigger, whereupon the bloggers jump in too. etc, etc, blah blah blah. A lot of bloggers will claim this doesn't happen in the so-called blogosphere, but it does: blogs, I find, are especially susceptible to picking up the agenda zeitgeist, which only makes most of them sound like everything else. (Talent is as rare in Blogdom as it is anywhere else; unfortunately, editors are even rarer down there.) Anyway, the result of all this me-tooism is that the remaining 95 per cent of human experience is completely untouched, at least by the established media--unless they recognize the fact, which happens very rarely, and make a special place for the unofficial stories and a different kind of reporting/writing and reading, which is how people like me get to do what we do at the Globe, and publish stories about culling. The Globe's a very daring publication in that regard. And then the stories get picked up and re-developed by radio and TV, which are equally hungry for well-told, well-reported, off-agenda stories. I find that very encouraging, as a writer-slash-journalist. Now all we have to work on is the rate of pay.


11. Is Canadian literary culture a little obsessed with what lit-blogger Dan Green once called "print sniffing"? Is there a tendency in our country to fetishize books qua objects, and not pay enough attention to the actual content of what a writer produces over his/her career and over various media?

No, I don't think so. I think of Don McKellar as a great writer (32 Short Films About Glenn Gould, the musical The Drowsy Chaperone, among many other works) but he's better known as an actor. Ditto Susan Coyne, who wrote Slings and Arrows on TV and Kingfisher Days between hardcovers, while also acting. Books are still the gold standard in some circles--because books are where the most serious thinking and writing has been done, traditionally. You can refer back to what is in a book, more easily and more reliably than you can refer to what has been spouted into the ether on TV. It's not for nothing that George Bush prefers to give TV interviews, over print ones--because the stuff he says on TV gets forgotten. Although with YouTube that is now changing. But I don't think Canadians are more fetishistic, bookwise, than anyone else. Books have weight, historically; they deserve a little sniffing, frankly.


12. And if so, will this rather straight-laced tendency of Canadian literary culture lessen its chances of retaining its small market on the world stage in the coming years of great technological change?

No. If anything, the size of our local national market becomes less important with new technology, because you can publish anywhere, in a multiplicity of forms. I admit I'm an optimist in that regard. We just have to take chances, and give good writers the freedom and opportunity (financial and otherwise) to do what they are convinced they have to do. Talent takes care of itself.


13. In the introduction to the essay collection you edited, "What I Meant to Say", you recount a conversation with publisher Patrick Crean. In it, you describe thrashing out identifying the audience for a book of personal essays by men about their personal lives. Finally, you both agree the audience for such a book wouldn't so much be men as women who want to find out about men.

Has this theory been borne out? Or have you found that there are many men, too, who want to read essays like these?

The book is now in its third printing, so something is working. I think we were right to conclude that a male version of Carol Shields's Dropped Threads would not work; that men would run shrieking from a book about men, by men, for men, because very few men would want to be seen reading or buying such a book. It would reek of feelings and weakness and insecurity and the men's movement, or at least that is what most men would think it would reek of, given what they were used to reading in that genre. Men aren't supposed to have private lives that can be talked about.

But women bought it, because I told the contributors to write their essays for female readers, and all the contributors are very good-story-tellers. And those women in turn seem to give it to men, who then buy it on their own for their pals, and even for their wives and sons and daughters.

It almost feels like a genetic difference. Historically and biologically, men are the ones who form a chain around the fire at night, facing out from their women and children, watching for marauders in the darkness. You don't want to be distracted by feelings at times like that, or when you're hunting, or when you're fighting your enemy. Maybe that's why brain scientists are finding that men have one-track brains--because distraction was costlier to men, who always did the dangerous work of hunting and warring, than it was to multi-track-brained women. Thus men have not developed a vocabulary that allowed them to talk to one another about private matters, or about their private lives. But that's changing quickly: the women's movement blew open all the doors. So guys can now buy this book and read about sex and shopping and convertibles and what it's like to try to be a hero or have secrets, and other aspects of the private male psyche.

Having said that, I should add that after What I Meant to Say came out, I began to think that we ought to have published a book of essays by men, written for women, about women, and how men see them. That would have been of even greater interest to women, I imagine.


14. Yet taking into account that frank discussion of sexual desire is an absolute must in any book about the modern male psyche, how, in your opinion, does a writer balance the fact of carnal need with the ideal of heartfelt sensitivity? (For example, you achieve a nice balance in your own piece on stripping between obligations to family and the Urge to Look.)

Generally speaking, how is one to be honest and moving at the same time?

It's a big problem. A lot of women--who buy most of the books--just aren't interested in hearing about the way men behave, especially when guys objectify women--which is something men do a lot. Women especially aren't interested in hearing this stuff if the guy is furious or hates women or is simply venting his pent-up anger.

But I think you can do it, if you write candidly and stylishly, if you tell the story well. A little candour--my decision to write about being watched when I walk with my disabled son, and to compare that objectification to what happens when I watch women in strip clubs, is a case in point--goes a long way in that regard.

And there's a difference between candour and confession, which is a whole other, more complicated genre of writing, and not one I'm drawn to. Confession is passive and weak and assumes an admission of guilt and a desire to apologize. Candour is more confident--such as when Ted Bishop reveals, in his essay in What I Meant to Say, what goes through his mind when a pretty cashier's hand grazes his as she returns his change. And how that relates to the theories of Merleau-Ponty. All of which was interesting and charming and funny and complimentary to women and--most important of all--beautifully written. I told all the contributors that I didn't mind what they said--they could even admit to wanting to be left alone with the March issue of Tits 'n' Hitler--as long as a woman reader didn't heave the book arcross the room, but instead was prompted to think about what they had to say.

And that's the sort of thing you can do if you can tell a story well. It's a bit like that movie, The Aristocrats, about a bunch of comedians telling a truly gross and disgusting joke: after a while, the vile content doesn't matter as much as the wit and originality of the telling. Updike knows that: he is (still!) always going on about women's nether parts, for instance, often in the most objectifying way, but he does it with such an original eye and with such precision and care and energy and attention and careful, graceful writing and story-tellign technique, that women are seduced into reading him anyway. Plus he is always showing them how his male characters see woman, a subject of steady interest to women readers lo these many centuries.

It's one of the great thrills and challenges of writing, I think: you find yourself stuck way out over deep, shark--infested waters, and you can't help but think, oh man, if I fall, I am soooooooo dead! And then you manage to get across the gap anyway, because you figured out how to keep people reading.


Bio: Ian Brown is a roving feature writer for the Globe and Mail. His stories mostly appear in the Focus section of the Saturday edition of the paper. He is also the host of Talking Books, a radio show that can be heard on CBC Radio 1 at 4:30 p.m. every Saturday; and the host of Human Edge and The View From Here, two documentary film series on TVOntario. He is the author of two books, FreeWheeling and Man Overboard (published as Man Medium Rare in the United States) and was the editor of What I Meant to Say: The Private Lives of Men. He lives in Toronto with his wife, Johanna Schneller, and their two children.