Mano a Mano?

The fruits of Nnenna Ogwo and Mary Catherine Muir's labors--the blossoming backyard

June 1, 2009
"Do you ever get the uncanny feeling of being murdered and not knowing till you got home?" Lev Grossman asked an audience of tweeting bloggers this past Friday beneath the tall ceilings of the Javits Convention Center. The sound system kept fuzzing out until the four panelists on stage had to pass one microphone back and forth. Rumor had it that the tweets were jamming the signal.

The panel was a follow up discussion to the SXSW session I befouled three months earlier. However, this was a much more receptive audience. Even the pigeons who call the Javits home were well behaved.

For three days I stood in my employer's booth, gave out galleys, chatted about the fall books, discussed the future of publishing and the value of an annual convention. I wandered the aisles looking at competitor's wares and searching for swag to take home. Just my luck that publishing has entered a new era of frugality so the usual marketing materials were either eliminated or severely scaled back. Tote bags emblazoned with colophons were handed out, but convention-goers had nothing to put in them.

Harper Collins went for the airport concourse look and didn't even display their books or catalogs. Random House hung a giant four-sided mobile from the ceiling as a beacon for wayward booksellers, but then sadistically placed a humble information kiosk underneath. The joke circulated that it was the "Random Shack."

So I reached Sunday a little exhausted and weary from upholding literature, not to mention ticked off I had no booty to haul home and pore over like Halloween candy. Instead I returned to find an anonymous comment on my last post about D. Keith Mano.

This supposed critic called into question my ability to properly appreciate Mr. Mano--or to read through Take Five. What makes you so special, bub? You think you can take me on? You think you have the brain cells to focus that long on a 583-page novel? I eat spam like you for lunch and wash it down with Bustelo. I challenge you to a read-off, my friend. If you have the guts, meet me at Melissa's Deli tomorrow and I will show you how to turn a page.
--Peter Miller