Mr. Monk and the Bookgasm

The fine folks at Bookgasm enjoyed MR. MONK IN OUTER SPACE. The reviewer, Ed Gorman, says:

You know you’ve landed in an alternate universe when you meet “Mr.
Snork, security chief of the starship Discovery,” one of the many fans
also dressed up like people on the show – the ones who wear elephant
trunks being my favorite.

The only thing goofier than the fans is when Monk looks at them and
says, “I don’t associate with freaks like that,” and then proceeds to
do some riffing on the ’60s to “prove” that they’re all “high on LSD.”
A great scene.

This is probably my favorite MONK book…

A Subtle Clue

Here’s a true story from the writers room. We were helping a freelancer, a first-timer to crime shows, plot her story. We needed a subtle clue to link two killings that previously seemed unrelated.

"I’ve got it," the freelancer said. "What if there is a tiny hole in the victim’s head and we
discover his brain has been drained out of his skull and replaced with dog shit."

"I don’t think that’s subtle enough," I said.

"Why not?" she said. "It’s a small hole."

Needless to say, she ended up backing out of the assignment.

Tongue Tied

A friend of mine sent me this description of a kiss from ON CHESIL BEACH by Ian McEwan, one of the New York Times’ "Best 100 Novels of 2007."  If there’s an award for bad writing about sex, I would nominate this bit:

With his lips
clamped firmly onto hers, he probed the fleshy floor of her mouth, then moved
around inside the teeth of her lower jaw to the empty place where three years
ago a wisdom tooth had crookedly grown until removed under general anesthesia.
This cavity was where her own tongue usually strayed when she was lost in
thought. By association, it was more like an idea than a location, a private
imaginary place rather than a hollow in her gum, and it seemed peculiar to her
that another tongue should be able to go there too. … He wanted to engage her
tongue in some activity of its own, coax it into a hideous mute duet. … She
understood perfectly that this business with tongues, this penetration, was a
small-scale enactment, a ritual tableau vivant, of what was still to come, like
a prologue before an old play that tells you everything that must happen.

 

World’s Ugliest Book Covers

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I keep getting emails from J. Crowder at Lightsword Publishing. The emails have no message, just a link to their site. Brilliant marketing, huh? I finally gave in and clicked it. The link takes you to an astonishingly amatuerish website. But if you think the site21hrflmpiml_ss160_
looks bad, you should see their book covers. They must have hired a class of third graders as their art department. You have to wonder what J. Crowder hopes to gain by these emails…

Now and Then

NOW AND THEN isn’t the worst book Robert B. Parker has ever written (that award would go to the latest Sunny Randall novel), but it may be the laziest.  It’s definitely one of the weakest Spenser novels. Susan’s Harvard education was mentioned six times before I stopped keeping track. At one point, there’s a big shootout at Susan’s house involving Uzis and shotguns and not  a single neighbor calls the cops. Sadly, Susan survives.

I’m a Robert B. Parker fan, but he hasn’t written a good book since APPALOOSA. I hope the upcoming sequel is as good because this is one fan who is loosing his faith.

Random Thoughts

I’ve finally caught up with all the episodes so far of season 2 of DEXTER. It’s not as good as a season one, but it’s still one of my favorite series right now. There must be some budget tightening going on, though. They seem to have redressed Rita’s apartment several times for other interior sets and either they are doing a lot more exterior shooting in Los Angeles instead of Miami this season or they are doing a poorer job of hiding it.   

I tried the Angus Burger at McDonalds on Thursday. It tastes more like real hamburger meat than the other burgers on their menu, but it’s still not convincing. I had some beef flavored potato chips in a London airport once that tasted more like real meat than the Angus Burger. I don’t think McDonald’s Angus Burger is made from Angus beef. I think it’s made in a test-tube by a guy named Angus. They should serve it in a petrie dish instead of on a bun.

I didn’t think BIONIC WOMAN could get worse, but it has. Canceling it now would be a mercy killing.

My car was in the shop last week and I was given a new Ford Mustang to drive. The car drives well  and has some real pep but the interior is all cheap, hard plastic. You feel like you’re driving in a toy car rather than a real one. And they wonder why nobody buys American cars.

The new offer from the AMPTP is an insult to our intelligence and scoffs at our resolve. I think this strike is going to last a long time. It’s a good thing I am getting rich off my blog.

I am reading THE TENDERNESS OF WOLVES and am really enjoying it. I bought it last summer in England and was saving it for a strike.

I took a flight this week on Max Jet…the all-business-class airline. I highly recommend it. Same price as Air India, only without the duct tape, torn carpets, collapsing seats, and Bollywood movies.

Best piece of conversation I’ve overheard this week. Two businessmen are walking in an airline terminal. One of them said to the other: "I am in the naked woman business on the web, but on the classy side."

I’ve started writing my next MONK book. It’s due in five months. After several years of writing a new book every 90 days, having five months on this one is bliss. I can finally remove the catheter and colostomy bag because now I actually have time to use the bathroom again. 

Playing Favorites II

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There has been quite a lot reaction to the post, and "back blog" discussion, on Sarah Weinman’s blog regarding the MWA’s determination that Charles Ardai’s SONG OF INNOCENCE is ineligible for Edgar consideration because it is a self-published book.

The most unusual development in this discussion is that now Charles Ardai is going to great lengths  to portray himself as just a book packager — someone who brings manuscripts to a publishing house in exchange for a commission or fee — rather than as an editor and publisher. 

This turn-of-events is especially surprising given that he has never characterized himself as a packager before,  at least not in the dozens of articles and interviews I have browsed through today on the web, nor on the Hard Case Crime site, nor in the books that he publishes (where he actually states on the copyright page that "Hard Case Crime books are selected and edited by Charles Ardai," an unusual  statement for a simple  "book packager" to make). Nor have I found any instance of him correcting anyone else who has referred to him as a publisher, editor and founder of Hard Case Crime. In fact, he has done just the opposite, taking justifiable pride as editor and publisher of one of the best mystery imprints in existence today. As he says on Sarah’s blog:

It would be foolish, of course, for me to argue that I am not, in the
public’s eye, the "publisher" of Hard Case Crime (and the editor of the
line and the face and voice of the line — I’m proud to play these
roles).

The irony is that even if one were to accept his new characterization of himself as a book packager and not, as he has claimed before, a publisher and editor — and if you were to accept his arguments regarding his relationship with Dorchester — his book would still not be eligible for Edgar consideration under our rules that define "self publication." So why is he bothering to make the distinction?

Charles Ardai argues that even if his book is a self-published title, its exclusion from the Edgars shows the injustice of the MWA in not allowing self-published books for award consideration. I disagree, for many of the same reasons that author Jason Pinter expressed on his blog today:

Having been on the other side of the publishing desk, I equate MWA’s
banning of self-published books to the rule most larger houses have of
not accepting unagented submissins. The rule is not there, of course,
out of snobbery, but to act as quality control for editors and
publishers whose time is already taxed to begin with.

[…]Getting self-published today is easier than ever. It does not take any
editorial or authorial skill to be self-published, only a pile of paper
and enough money to cover the costs. And for many, the cost is worth
seeing your manuscript bound between two covers. I can be relatively
certain that if all self-published books were permitted, the time
consumed would go from "minor inconvenience" to "near insurmountable"
almost overnight. Not to mention, in my opinion, it would encourage
even more self-publishing,
as aspiring authors would soon realize that for $199 they could be
judged on the same field as Lawrence Block. And if this leads to
authors paying a few books to get their books bound for award
consideration instead of honing their craft, I think it’d be a real
shame and could actually do the opposite of what’s intended.

[…]Since anyone can self-publish a book with ease, what is the real
difference between a self-published book and a stack of loose
manuscript pages? Or somebody with a Word file saved on their hard
dive? There must be some sort of quality control.

I would never equate Ardai’s book with "a stack of loose manuscript pages." He is an accomplished, acclaimed and respected author. But the fact remains that he self-published his novel. He was simply in a position to do a better, and much more professional job of it, than someone like Jim Hansen or John Q. Public with a credit card who only has access to services like Lulu. Ardai, on the other hand, has the advantage of already heading his own publishing company…or, if you accept his new argument, to have an existing book packaging arrangement with Dorchester under which he could include his own book.

The solution to this "problem" (not that I agree there is one) is for Ardai to submit his next book to a publisher he neither owns nor has a business relationship with as a "book packager."