Books/Mags/Blogs

We’re on the anti-piracy record, so we believe we can be forgiven for this transgression: Latin American literary giant Gabriel Garcia Marquez has won the last laugh on book pirates by finely tuning the ending of his latest novel. The launch of the Spanish-language version of the book, “Memories of My Melancholy Whores,” was brought forward a week to Wednesday because bootleg copies have begun appearing on the streets of his native Colombia. But the pirate copies are not the same as the final version of the book, 77-year-old Garcia Marquez’s first novel in 10 years, editor Braulio Peralta said. […]

Was it just last week that we were talking about how things that sell in the United States don’t necessarily translate to international markets? It turns out it’s true — we didn’t just make it up to fill server space. As it turns out (we suggest sitting, though leaning is acceptable), romances that do well in the United States don’t necessarily sell in Europe. Now we’re not saying anything, but it doesn’t take a lot of marketing research to guess that cowboys wouldn’t be big in Italy. Except perhaps as a curiosity. Makes us wonder if some declines in Harlequin

We have an exceptionally contrary soul. We like to think it’s what is most charming about us. Today, we came home to find one of our lists buzzing with indignation (we do so love indignation, and jumped right in). There was an article out there that dissed chicklit. The type of dissing that lead some to declare they couldn’t get beyond the initial paragraphs. Pure drivel, we can’t be bothered, that sort of thing. Okay, we thought, we gotta get us some of that. And so we toddled off to read the article. We discovered an author with a dislike

For those of you looking for your blog to launch your career in management, precedent has been set. Elizabeth Spiers has risen through the ranks from blogger to editor-in-chief. She takes over at MediaBistro, apparently pretty much as soon as she can pack up her desk and haul her belongings either up or down town (we are so not going to attempt geography this early in the morning). For those who see blogging as a way to leap into greater things with your writing career (as if the blog weren’t enough!), Spiers previously held a position at New York magazine

Writing is weird — you get into a story and sometimes it takes a life of its own. To non-writers, it seems the author has full control: you are, after all, putting the words down on paper. It’s your imagination. You can shape the text however you wish. But, if you’re a writer — and when this happens for the first time, it’s often a surprise — the unexpected, unplanned, unwanted happens. In the end, whatever the flaws or missteps, the story is the story. In fiction, it is hard to weigh the real world (such as it is) against

Jill thought it would be fun to attend the Romantic Times convention and drag us along. Apparently she can’t get enough of our sarcasm in real life. We suspect, without any real evidence, that said convention would bring out the worst of our cynicsm. Jill has a warped sense of humor; we suspect she hasn’t given up the idea as much as she’s waiting for the next perfect moment to spring her plan. For years, we’ve read about this convention. It sounds, frankly, awful. Perhaps you have to be there, but the descriptions make the whole experience sound like every

But not quite. We know, we know. Making fun of other people is mean. But it’s healthier than smoking. And, frankly, when we’re pitched one right over the plate, even we can hit it. So, when Sara Nelson says: If there’s a lesson to be learned from the international publishing 101 course that is the Frankfurt book fair, it is that what sells here does not necessarily sell there. … what are we supposed to do? Pretend we didn’t read it? Pretend it’s profound or surprising? Pretend this is something we didn’t know? Barring that, perhaps we could beg for

We cannot match Beatrice’s review of the always-puzzling Bookbabes’ review of the revamped New York Times Book Review (which we read online this past weekend, and have assumed the changes have more impact in real life — and yes, if you guess the correct number of times we said “review” in our first sentence, you win a prize or something), but we can add our always useful thoughts about their column. We realize making fun of the Babes is easy, but, darn it, shouldn’t there be some things in life you can phone in? We’ve read the Babes’ interview/analysis, and

Beatrice rounds up experiences at New York Is Book Country (is it us or does this sound like the slogan for one of the “M” states). Regular Beatrice readers know the blog frequently discusses chicklit — their fair appraisal of the subject is refreshing, especially because men often don’t write about women’s fiction with any sort of understanding. We often think it would be really cool if male book critics would spend more time learning the mores of women’s fiction before leaping into reviewing. Since, unfortunately, popular fiction isn’t taught seriously in most schools, and most boys wouldn’t be caught

Those who recall our fall fashion edition (written sometime in summer, we were feeling bold and brash with our predictions) will recall that this season’s books are bigger and heavier than ever before. Sort of of like adorable chunky sweaters only you probably won’t be wearing them everywhere. Back strain is simply no fun. While this season’s must-haves include Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and anything, including vintage, from the Neal Stephenson line, there is something special for those who wouldn’t be caught dead in the same books everyone else is carrying. Paul Anderson’s Hunger’s Brides, which, at 1,376 pages,