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Picks of the Week

  • Harry Dolan: Bad Things Happen

    Harry Dolan: Bad Things Happen
    BAD THINGS HAPPEN is a nifty debut, cleverly told and unfurled from the very first line: "The shovel has to meet certain requirements" on through meeting "the man who calls himself David Loogan." There are reasons for concealment, just as there are reasons the editor of a mystery magazine bearing little resemblance to EQMM or AHMM might bring him into the fold, thus catalyzing a series of murderous events. The twists come quickly and the dialogue is sharp and if it falls apart slightly at the end, no matter - I want to read much more from Dolan from now on.

  • Ian MacKenzie: City of Strangers: A Novel

    Ian MacKenzie: City of Strangers: A Novel
    MacKenzie's debut novel reminded me a lot of Paul Auster's NEW YORK TRILOGY, whether it was intended or not, in terms of his choice of words, the thrust of the narrative and the existential nature of the main character (whose first name, incidentally, is Paul) caught up in a snowballing sequence of strange and violent events in and around New York City. MacKenzie straddles the line between thriller and internal examination of a man's failings, and his ability to do so establishes him as a young writer of serious talent and future.

  • Megan Abbott: Bury Me Deep

    Megan Abbott: Bury Me Deep
    In a word: amazing. In more words: Megan Abbott, who has never delivered anything less than an excellent novel, exceeds expectations and takes a very bold and very necessary step forward both in the quality of the prose, the development of her characters and especially in portraying how obsession seeps into the very soul of people, transforming them into their worst nightmares all too easily. Just read this book. And then tell many others to do so as well.

  • Ninni Holmqvist: The Unit

    Ninni Holmqvist: The Unit
    Understandably, echoes of THE HANDMAID'S TALE are hard to ignore in this dystopic examination of a society where fertility is so high a priority that older, single, marginal women are shut away in secret locales to live out the rest of their lives in seemingly perfect harmony - at least, until the "donations" begin. But Holmqvist's marvelous book doesn't browbeat her thesis into the reader and smartly expands her ideas to look at the plight of all marginalized folk, women and men alike, and how the promise of comforts can be the most horrifying of all. Prepare to be disturbed, but prepare further to think about the ramifications.

  • Paula Froelich: Mercury in Retrograde

    Paula Froelich: Mercury in Retrograde
    This is possibly the most perfect novel for today's economically challenged times. Why? Because it has plenty of glitz and glamor and blind items, as befitting a narrative by the deputy editor of Page Six, but Froelich isn't arch or snarky or acid-tongued in the slightest. Her trio of protagonists land in all manner of embarrassing situations but they aren't played for mean-spirited laughs. The New York here is something of a fantasy-land, but not so far off the mark that it's completely unbelievable. Most of all it's clear Froelich remains sincere and optimistic about her chosen city, and has retained her sense of fun. So no need to check your brain at the door, but sometimes it just needs to chill out and relax.

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« More Smatterings | Main | The New Year Weekend Update »

January 04, 2007

Metamorphosis in more ways than one

Right before New Year's, I read Tyler Knox's KOCKROACH, which flips the Kafka premise and opens with a cockroach waking up to discover that he has transformed into a human being. What follows is a very entertaining look at how one man - er, ex-roach, whatever you want to call it/him - adapts its primitive brain to 1950s New York surroundings and spirals down a rough road of power grabs, mob ties, illicit sex and the occasional foray into higher-function-based emotion. I dug it; the book could have taken more chances, but I liked its noir sensibility and the understated way it went with the gimmick.

But my ears perked up when I saw USA Today's review of the book yesterday; specifically, its sidebar about the so-called secrecy surrounding Knox and the lack of an author photo. Because as it turns out, Knox isn't a debut writer, but a pseudonym for someone who has written several mysteries. According to William Morrow, Knox's publisher, the author wants to get "fresh critical attention" and is "not famous." And so, a little detective work and about ten minutes later I had my answer: William Lashner, author of six crime novels featuring the morally ambiguous and very funny Philadelphia lawyer Victor Carl - last seen in 2006's MARKED MAN. Confirmation of Knox's real identity came from his agent, Wendy Sherman, earlier this morning.

So how did I connect the dots? Let's go through it point by point:

  • Knox holds a master of fine arts degree from the Iowa Writers' Workshop. Lashner also graduated from the Iowa Writers' Workshop.
  • Knox is a former resident of New York City. Lashner went to law school at New York University.
  • Knox is also a former resident of Washington. Lashner worked for the Department of Justice's Office of Special Investigations (located in Washington) and the Narcotic and Dangerous Drug Section (also located in Washington.)
  • Knox's agent is Wendy Sherman. Lashner's agent is Wendy Sherman. (see above)
  • Knox thanks various people at William Morrow, including editor Carolyn Marino. Lashner's last four books have been published by Morrow (after starting out at ReganBooks) and his editor is Carolyn Marino.

There are a few more things, like how Knox is based in the East Coast (Lashner lives outside of Philadelphia) but the conclusion is clear-cut, and the new name, blank slate approach makes sense. It isn't just about fooling the computer, but that KOCKROACH is quite a ways different from the Victor Carl books. If anything, it's more homage to the pulp fiction that Lashner loves (and wrote about on his website) and if Lashner's name had been on it, would it have been more of a struggle to attract a wider, or more diverse, readership than who read the Carl books? Hard to say.  Maybe it would have been more ideal for Lashner to keep his name on the project, but this is publishing, where ideals crash heavily into bottom-line pragmatism. And when the time comes to change direction, this is - for better or for worse - how it's done if moving from genre to something not quite.
 

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Comments

Whoa! I read KOCKROACH back in the fall, loved and have been recommending it since it came out, but I had no idea the author was a pseudonym. I assumed he was one of the post-McSweeney's crop of smart young pomo genre writers. How interesting to find out his alter ego. Impressive detective work, Madam -- I salute you!

Now all we need to know is who John Twelve Hawks really is. My vote goes to Ed Champion.

I'm a Lashner junkie so thanks for the detective work.

I love Lashner's work, but I still find it annoying to see this work treated as a "debut" by reviewers when it obviously is no such thing. Kind of like the Richard Hawke and Lisa Unger books from last year.

I agree with Lana. I, too, find this practice dishonest and annoying.

In my review of Richard Hawke's book I acknowledged the true author. It was a judgment call, but I decided it was relevant to the critique.

Who is Lisa Unger really? I got her new book a few weeks ago.

Her real name is Lisa Miscione. She wrote four books for St. Martins before she adopted the Unger name, which is actually her married name.

Just to be clear, I don't blame the writers and I understand the realities of the market. I just don't like seeing publishers tout these books as debuts, which is dishonest.

The aspect of the name game that I find strange is that the chain bookstores put up with it.

One of the main reasons the publishers practice this form of deception is in order to trick (for lack of a better word) the chains into ordering more copies of Jane Doe's book than they would if it were by Jane Roe.

But that's all just smoke and mirrors, and if the chains told them to stop, they would.

I can understand Mr. Montgomery's reservations, but in fact authors sometimes have little choice. Ever since the appearance of computerized sales data by title and author, buyers for chains and distributors have known exactly how well any author does, and buy accordingly. The result can be brutal.

If an author's career is becalmed, or he is writing in a dead genre, such as western fiction, his only escape is the pseudonym, the one thing that trumps all that computerized data.

In other times, authors often resorted to pseudonyms to dodge contracts prohibiting them from selling to other publishers, or contracts in which the publisher has exclusive use of the author's name. Thus western author Will Henry also wrote as Clay Fisher (and neither of these were his real name).

I don't blame the authors. It's the publishers that are making it happen.

As a matter of interest, my contracts forbid me to write books for other publishers, even under a pseudonym.

As for the blame in this instance, David, I actually think the chains deserve the most of it. If you think about it, the easiest thing for a publisher to do is steer clear of an author who's failed in the past, because as Richard points out, the chains don't want to know you if you didn't sell last time around. I think it actually speaks to an integrity on the part of editors, a belief in the writing, even if they have to resort to underhand techniques to make it work.

All that said, I can see how frustrating it is for you reviewers. I'm still not sorry I changed my name from Dan Brown - it was just the shame of it I couldn't stand anymore!

The reason I don't blame the chains in this case is because they're in the business of selling books, not publishing them. If they don't want to order a book by Author X, that's their business.

For the publisher, though, to attempt to circumvent this (and, often, to mislead the media and the public as well) by using a pseudonym is dishonest.

Just because someone won't buy your book (or sell your book), that doesn't mean it isn't at least a little ethically questionable to tell them it was written by someone else.

I don't think this is a big deal, but I do think it is somewhat disreputable.

I blame the chains. They simply give up on novelists after just one or two books. Some novelists just need time to build. Harlan Coben's first two hardcover novels were flops, and he wrote for ten years before writing that breakout novel. My guess is that he would never have succeeded under the computerized ordering systems of today. The same thing could be said for the careers of James Patterson, Dean Koontz, etc.

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