John Banville has a delightful piece in British Esquire about cursed books events. It made my bowels shake in recognition, especially the ‘smiling oldster in golf shirt and baggy shorts’
One day in 1990, I was flown first class from Dublin to Phoenix, Arizona, to read at the Irish Cultural Centre there. Five people turned up to listen to me. None of them had read my books, and it was clear that none of them had the slightest intention of doing so. They were the sons and daughter of Irish immigrants, and were there simply to see a real, live son the Oul Sod.
It was in New York, though, in one of that city’s sprawling emporia, Rizzoli, perhaps, or Barnes & Noble, that I was properly put in my place. My reading was at an end, and I was signing for a half dozen or so devotees — such enthusiasm! such dauntless loyalty! — when an alarmingly large and glossily grinning plutocrat elbowed his way forward and, ignoring the stack of my as yet unbought books, thrust a great furred paw at me and boomed: "Sir, let me shake the hand that shook the hand of Seamus Heaney!" The hand that shook the hand of Heaney sadly shook his, and he was gone.
…
Then there was Florida. Ah, Florida, most beautifully named of all the states, according to Elizabeth Bishop. I was in Miami for the Book Fair. The reading took place in a vast, glass and steel store. My partner for the occasion had the day before been presented with the Pulitzer Prize, so I had the benefit of his audience.
Afterwards, there was a book signing in a courtyard in front of the store. Two tables side by side, one piled with his books, one with mine. Two queues formed. His stretched off into the sunlit Floridan distance. I had three people. One was the inevitable madman, this one in a raincoat. The second was a student who was writing a paper on the work. The third was a smiling oldster in golf shirt and baggy shorts, who leaned down to me and murmured, "I’m not going to buy your book, but you looked so lonely I had to come and say a word to you."
John Banville. He writes his serious novels under his own name and, to pay the bills, he writes crime novels under the name of Benjamin Black. I’ve read some of those and they are good.
Book tour memory. It was probably 1978.
U.S. author Marilyn French had written a novel, The Women’s Room, which had been quickly recognised as one of the most important feminist literary works yet published. And surprisingly to me, I saw her sitting, with 4 or 5 copies of her book, at a table on the top floor of Myer in the Brisbane CBD. Utterly alone. Her facial expression of desolation within that wasteland still haunts me occasionally.
Makes me grateful to be in the public service, in some ways. People have to attend my workshops, whether they want to or not. And we're all getting paid anyway so there's a level of forced enthusiasm.
And to think my biggest anxiety about book signings is having the poor author think I'm a gormless idiot as I fangirl at them. Just realised they would be grateful for it 😂
Mortification: Writers’ Stories of their Public Shame - which includes 80 stories such as "an author wanting to kill a member of her audience or another succeeding (accidentally) in killing his host's beloved pet". Well now I am going to have to dig out my copy and re read it.
I have never been to a book signing. I had a chance once to get a signature from Henry Rollins but the crowds were too big and my other half took the kid instead. In fact that kid has been to more of those things than me - Peter Cundall is probably the crowning jewel in that list ;) All i can think of is stuffing up an awkward bon mot and the risk of repeating the same thing that a hundred other people have uttered before you. Not to mention hearing about the hand washing routines authors have to do on these things. I figure i am doing a service not to pass on my germs. I've already bought the books. Authors doing book tours and parents of childcare aged kids must be some of the strongest immune systems out there.
I have a vague memory of a collection of short stories based/titled something like 'regret', or 'humiliation' or 'disgust' (I think it had a Short Story by one John Birmingham) that featured an author's horrible experience at book launch.
John Banville. He writes his serious novels under his own name and, to pay the bills, he writes crime novels under the name of Benjamin Black. I’ve read some of those and they are good.
Book tour memory. It was probably 1978.
U.S. author Marilyn French had written a novel, The Women’s Room, which had been quickly recognised as one of the most important feminist literary works yet published. And surprisingly to me, I saw her sitting, with 4 or 5 copies of her book, at a table on the top floor of Myer in the Brisbane CBD. Utterly alone. Her facial expression of desolation within that wasteland still haunts me occasionally.
Makes me grateful to be in the public service, in some ways. People have to attend my workshops, whether they want to or not. And we're all getting paid anyway so there's a level of forced enthusiasm.
And to think my biggest anxiety about book signings is having the poor author think I'm a gormless idiot as I fangirl at them. Just realised they would be grateful for it 😂
Oh, have I been here.
Mortification: Writers’ Stories of their Public Shame - which includes 80 stories such as "an author wanting to kill a member of her audience or another succeeding (accidentally) in killing his host's beloved pet". Well now I am going to have to dig out my copy and re read it.
I have never been to a book signing. I had a chance once to get a signature from Henry Rollins but the crowds were too big and my other half took the kid instead. In fact that kid has been to more of those things than me - Peter Cundall is probably the crowning jewel in that list ;) All i can think of is stuffing up an awkward bon mot and the risk of repeating the same thing that a hundred other people have uttered before you. Not to mention hearing about the hand washing routines authors have to do on these things. I figure i am doing a service not to pass on my germs. I've already bought the books. Authors doing book tours and parents of childcare aged kids must be some of the strongest immune systems out there.
I have a vague memory of a collection of short stories based/titled something like 'regret', or 'humiliation' or 'disgust' (I think it had a Short Story by one John Birmingham) that featured an author's horrible experience at book launch.
No solid gold hovercraft for him, then!