Who's buying what at bookstores?

Despite the downturn in the economy - look! I didn't say "recession"! - book sales are up for the first part of 2008, according to PW Daily, which reports March sales were up 1.3 percent. Sales have increased every month so far in 2008, though March boasted the smallest leap. PW Daily says that numbers for the bookstore segment (up 5.1 percent in the first quarter) are higher than the rest of the retail segment (up 3.9 percent in the quarter).

I dunno. Probably just means sales of coffee are on the rise.

May you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead

Irish-born writer Nuala O'Faolain has died of lung cancer at 68. You can read a nice New York Times obituary of the feminist, journalist and memoirist by clicking here.

Ms. O'Faolain, whose name I will inevitably misspell by the end of this post, was here in Miami several years back to talk about her second memoir, Almost There (she became famous for her first memoir, Are You Somebody?) She was a terrific interview, lively and funny, asking me questions with a sincerity and good humor I will never forget.

The book of hers I will always treasure most is her novel My Dream of You, seductive and romantic and terribly sad, about an Irish journalist who delves into the history of the famine. I remember reading it on a hiking trip down the Grand Canyon (South Canyon to be exact, for those of you who are Canyoneers). The first mile down South Canyon is not something I really like to think about, unless I am thinking: "Wow, I am never going down THAT again," but I remember lugging that fat paperback to the bottom and then being so happy I had once it rained and rained and RAINED AND RAINED, and the six of us were stuck under a tarp for a large chunk of the trip with not a lot to do besides read and drink.

Anyway, I know Ms. O'Faolain, who died in Dublin, did not much believe in the afterlife, so the heading on this post is not terribly appropriate. But I'm going to do it anyway, as I am a sentimental type. It's this or I sing Danny Boy and trust me when I tell you that nobody wants to hear that.

Vote for the best of the Booker Prize

You know how you're always cranky over the books that win awards? Well, now you can have a say, even though you are not an Important Literary Critic. Voting is open for The Best of the Booker (i.e., best of the Man Booker Prize) as part of the 40th anniversary celebration of the award.

Choose your favorite among six choices agreed upon by a panel, chosen from 41 Booker winners: Pat Barker's The Ghost Road; Peter Carey's Oscar and Lucinda; JM Coetzee's Disgrace; JG Farrell's The Siege of Krishnapur; Nadine Gordimer's The Conversationalist; Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children.

Hmmm. I don't see The English Patient on that list. I may have to boycott.

According to the Man Booker website, looks like Rushdie is the odds-on favorite to win.

Click here for more information on voting.

The write stuff (yes, I know it's a cliche)

Every so often I start reading a novel that sets me wriggling excitedly, much in the way my dogs wiggle when you pull out a Pup-a-Roni treat. The latest example of this is Jincy Willett's upcoming The Writing Class, which is so good I can barely put it down to write this.

I first heard of Willett from David Sedaris, who often in his appearances recommends books. He mentioned Willett's short story collection Jenny and the Jaws of Life. (He also led me to the fantastic Jean Thompson this way; her Throw Like a Girl should've been mentioned in my short story favorites post.) Anyway, Jenny was just fine, but what I really loved was Willett's novel Winner of the National Book Award. And I've been eagerly awaiting what came next.

What came next (or comes next, as it's out June 10) is The Writing Class, about a semester in a writing class  - university extension, not Comp 101 - full of wannabes, a few decent writers - and an unidentified malevolent being who seems to be gearing up to do something very bad. In the meantime, Willett skewers teachers, bad writers, failed writers, literary pretensions, bloggers... you name it. It's what we in the biz like to call wickedly funny, and now I've got to stop writing about it so I can go back and read some more.

Beautiful "Pieces''

Fugitive Pieces, a lovely, heart-breaking film adapted from Anne Michaels' novel, opens in Miami Friday, and I'm happy to say for once I was pleased that screenwriter/director Jeremy Podeswa altered the ending a bit. The film, about a boy rescued during the Holocaust and the troubled man he grows up to be, is still full of sorrow, but Podeswa doesn't deliver the final crowning blow, for which I am grateful, because I do not think I could take it. The movie is sad enough as it is.

You can read my review here.

Of course, if you're like some people I know and loathe, you'd rather see Ashton Kutcher and Cameron Diaz in What Happens in Vegas. Seriously, what is wrong with you people? Read this before you spend your money.

Giggle, weep, shudder, smile

The most common question that comes to a book editor? "What should read?" (The second most common question is some variation of "Will you review my self-published masterpiece?" The answer to that is always an emphatic "NO. NEVER. Pigs will fly, etc.")

Anyway, if you don't have an editor handy, Hallie Ephron's new book will come in handy. 1001 Books for Every Mood offers suggestions when you want to laugh (Dave Barry, Evelyn Waugh, David Sedaris); cry (Jamaica Kincaid, Andre Dubus III, Jane Hamilton); or indulge your inner child (Laura Ingalls Wilder, Louise Fitzhugh, Frances Hodgson Burnett).

Those seeking thrills are offered Erik Larson, George Pelecanos and Donna Tartt (that would be The Secret History. The Little Friend would fall under the "Books to Read That You Will Hate With Every Fiber of Your Being" category, if there were such a thing.) Want inspiration? Try Barbara Kingsolver's The Bean Trees, The Collected Short Stories of Eudora Welty or Midwives by Chris Bohjalian. (Actually, the only fault I can find with this book is that it lists Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven as inspirational. The only thing that book inspired me to do was vomit and then shake with wrenching envy.)

In any case, this is a neat reference book that's going to find a place on my desk (provided I actually clear space for it).

Wanted: story ideas

The Florida Center for the Literary Arts invites aspiring writers to Pitch-o-rama during the Writer's Institute this weekend. From 4 p.m.- 6 p.m. Saturday May 10, writers can pitch their ideas to a panel of literary agents and other industry professionals. For free. You'll get instant feedback and free advice and please, listen to it. If they say your idea stinks...it does. Move on with your life.

You get 30 seconds to make your pitch, so don't ramble. Think Hollywood. Comparisons work. I don't know this for a fact, but I would not be surprised to learn Boca writer Steve Alten sold his first book Meg on the basis of two really great words: "Jurassic Shark." (The concept, alas, was better than the actual book.)

The fun begins in Room 2106 at the Miami Dade College Wolfson Campus, 300 NE Second Ave. in downtown Miami. It's first come first served and sign up begins at noon.

For a list of do's and don'ts at Pitch-o-rama, click here.

Signs of spring (reading recommendations)

As flowers bloom and winter finally ends in other parts of the country, and we here in South Florida brace for the usual praying/begging/gnashing of teeth that means hurricane season is just around the corner, the National Book Critics Circle has released its spring "Good Reads" list.

The winners, according to PW Daily:

FICTION

1. Richard Price, LUSH LIFE, Farrar, Straus & Giroux
2. Jhumpa Lahiri, UNACCUSTOMED EARTH, Knopf
3. Steven Millhauser, DANGEROUS LAUGHTER, Knopf
*4. Charles Baxter, THE SOUL THIEF, Pantheon
*4. Peter Carey, HIS ILLEGAL SELF, Knopf
*4. J. M. Coetzee, DIARY OF A BAD YEAR, Viking
*4. James Collins, BEGINNNER’S GREEK, Little, Brown
*4. Brian Hall, FALL OF FROST, Viking
*4. Roxana Robinson, COST, Farrar, Straus & Giroux
*4. Owen Sheers, RESISTANCE, Nan A. Talese: Doubleday

Yes. There really WAS a 7 way tie for 4th place. Way to decide, critics!

NONFICTION

1. Nicholson Baker, HUMAN SMOKE: THE BEGINNING OF WORLD WAR II, THE END OF CIVILIZATION, S. & S.
2. Drew Gilpin Faust, THIS REPUBLIC OF SUFFERING: DEATH AND THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, Knopf
3. Mark Harris, PICTURES AT THE REVOLUTION: FIVE MOVIES AND THE BIRTH OF THE NEW HOLLYWOOD, Penguin Press
4. Honor Moore, THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER: A MEMOIR, Norton
5. Susan Jacoby, THE AGE OF AMERICAN UNREASON, Pantheon

POETRY

1. Grace Paley, FIDELITY, Farrar, Straus & Giroux
2. Frank Bidart, WATCHING THE SPRING FESTIVAL, Farrar, Straus & Giroux
3. Eric Gansworth, A HALF-LIFE OF CARDIO-PULMONARY FUNCTION, Syracuse University Press
4. Marie Howe, THE KINGDOM OF ORDINARY TIME, Norton
5. Robert Pinsky, GULF MUSIC, Farrar, Straus & Giroux

Sue Grafton meets Reaper

  Because I have a TiVo and because I am extremely lazy, I rarely get around to watching shows until several days - or sometimes a week - after they've actually aired. So I'm late in my congrats to last week's episode of The CW's Reaper for a funny reference to Sue Grafton.

Hell's bounty hunter Sam (Bret Harrison, pictured here with scythe that he will use several times to chop up an escaped soul from hell - see, I told you this was a good show) has this friend named Ben (Rick Gonzalez), who is picky about girls and his must-list includes "must be familiar with the works of Miss Sue Grafton." By way of explanation, he tells his buddies, "Intellectual."

Sam: "Sue Grafton? Really?"

Ben: "Alphabet novels are sick, and G is for Gumshoe is so off the hook."

Kudos, Reaper. Here's hoping somebody at the CW realizes you are a smart and clever show, and that Laura Palmer's dad (Ray Wise) as the devil is what we like to call genius casting.

Colleague of Augusten's dad speaks out

In my story on Augusten Burroughs, in describing how there has been a negative reaction to his new book A Wolf at the Table, in which he writes that his father was abusive, I wrote:

"The Times also spoke with university colleagues of Burroughs' father, who obligingly called Robison a good guy."

Fred Feldman, of the philosophy department at the University of Massachusetts-Amherst, emailed me and objected to my use of the word "obligingly" - and rightly so. He felt it implied that he and his colleagues told the NY Times whatever they wanted to know, when what they did was simply offer their opinions of working with Burroughs' father, John Robison. He's right; "obligingly" does imply that, and I should've chosen my words more carefully. I didn't mean to imply they were protecting Robison for any reason, merely that their impressions of him were quite different than his son's.

Here's what Mr. Feldman had to say:

"I knew John pretty well for about 35 years.  We worked
closely together on many administrative matters as well as on some philosophical
matters.  He always treated me very well.  He was generous and thoughtful.  He
seemed to be by nature a reflective, moderate, and sympathetic person.  He was a
peace-maker in our department at a time when it seemed that it would be
impossible for anyone to make peace.  Through all of this, he was constantly in
pain as a result of a severe case of psoriatic arthritis.  Yet he maintained a
cheerful and pleasant demeanor at work."

If this was a mask, it was one he wore all day every day for 30 years."

The plot, it just keeps thickening...I honestly don't know what to think. It's possible that a person can show one self to the world and another to his family; it happens all the time. Did it happen in this case? I don't think I have the insight to say one way or the other. But it's certainly interesting.