They passed it.
Now is a good time to support the ABFFE, as they make an effort to have the legislation overturned.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Overzealous
There is a bill getting ready to cross the governor of Indiana's desk. If he doesn't veto it, any bookseller carrying "sexually explicit materials" will have to register with the state. The ABFFE, a group of 15 independent booksellers, and Borders are encouraging the veto.
Aside from the fact that it's unconstitutional, it's also bloody ridiculous.
The bill seems to be aimed at adult bookstores, but the problem is, the wording is so vague that pretty much anything could be considered sexually explicit. There are bookstores that carry adult magazines. Most stores have The Joy of Sex and a copy of the Kama Sutra lurking somewhere where the kids can't get to them. At Booksmith, we kept them right up at the register - perhaps not the best spot for adults who wanted their privacy, but it ensured that seven-year-old Billy wasn't getting an eyeful.
Expand out a bit from the obvious - what else gets painted with that broad brush?
Erotica, of course. But what about other books that have sex scenes of any kind? Is the spinner rack of monthly Harlequin romances suddenly against the law if you don't register it? What about Laurel K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series?
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings? What's Happening to My Body?
How about the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition?
We had a magnet display at Booksmith. The designs ranged from inspirational quotes to reproductions of fine art. A woman spied Michaelangelo's David and accused us of selling pornographic material. This was a store that didn't carry adult magazines, and she freaked out over a magnet with one of the most recognizable sculptures in the world. What if that's the kind of person deciding where the line of sexually explicit vs acceptable is drawn?
I don't know very many people in Indiana, but if you happen to have friends there, ask them to call or write to the governor. Or, if they don't want to do that, encourage them to poke their heads into one of those bookstores and offer their support.
Aside from the fact that it's unconstitutional, it's also bloody ridiculous.
The bill seems to be aimed at adult bookstores, but the problem is, the wording is so vague that pretty much anything could be considered sexually explicit. There are bookstores that carry adult magazines. Most stores have The Joy of Sex and a copy of the Kama Sutra lurking somewhere where the kids can't get to them. At Booksmith, we kept them right up at the register - perhaps not the best spot for adults who wanted their privacy, but it ensured that seven-year-old Billy wasn't getting an eyeful.
Expand out a bit from the obvious - what else gets painted with that broad brush?
Erotica, of course. But what about other books that have sex scenes of any kind? Is the spinner rack of monthly Harlequin romances suddenly against the law if you don't register it? What about Laurel K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series?
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings? What's Happening to My Body?
How about the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition?
We had a magnet display at Booksmith. The designs ranged from inspirational quotes to reproductions of fine art. A woman spied Michaelangelo's David and accused us of selling pornographic material. This was a store that didn't carry adult magazines, and she freaked out over a magnet with one of the most recognizable sculptures in the world. What if that's the kind of person deciding where the line of sexually explicit vs acceptable is drawn?
I don't know very many people in Indiana, but if you happen to have friends there, ask them to call or write to the governor. Or, if they don't want to do that, encourage them to poke their heads into one of those bookstores and offer their support.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Truthiness in Publishing
I don't get it. Yet another false memoir is being pulled from the shelves. At this point, after A Million Little Pieces and the J.T. Leroy disasters, how are agents and editors not checking facts?
I can understand that an editor must develop a very close relationship with a writer whose manuscript he/she wants to publish. It has to feel like a kind of betrayal, or a breach of trust, making calls to verify the accuracy of certain claims.
But how can a person not be wary after the deceit we've seen in the publishing industry recently?
I followed a link to the original New York Times profile on Seltzer/Jones from a post at Bitch, Ph.D. On reading the article, one of the first things I thought was, "This is going to suck if it's not real." While none of my personal experience would give me any insight as to the authenticity of the story, something about it just seemed fishy. Maybe it's my own cynicism. I mean, hell, the book was being published by a major publishing house, and the New York Times was running a profile. Surely they have to know things I don't, right? Surely they've covered their collective asses and gone through the vetting process, haven't they? No one wants to be the next one going on Oprah saying, "Oops, my author didn't so much mean that it was a memoir as she meant, 'very, very, very loosely based on reality.' As in, 'It's at least set on planet Earth...'"
Sad to say, the fishy smell wasn't just the lingering odor from James Frey's tuna sandwich. Margaret B. Jones just isn't real. The uplifting story of a girl who pulled herself out of a bad situation and turned things around to help other people was all a fake. She claims some parts of the story were based on her friends' lives, but that still doesn't make it a memoir.
So, when does it stop? When do we begin demanding better fact-checking before a book ever hits the shelves? It is so disappointing to invest yourself emotionally in a book, and believe that a real person out there rose above a bad situation, only to see the author brought low again by his or her own newly-exposed lies.
If there's a story you want to tell, by all means, tell it, but don't couch it as truth. Call it the novel that it is, and uplift your readers that way. Sometimes fiction is just as inspiring as fact - sometimes even moreso. It must be nice, that feeling that the world is patting you on the back, admiring you for the hardships you've overcome. But is it really worth the ire you'll receive when you're found out to be a liar? That devalues every word you wrote. It calls into question every. single. thing. It makes what might have been something good into nothing more than disappointment.
I can understand that an editor must develop a very close relationship with a writer whose manuscript he/she wants to publish. It has to feel like a kind of betrayal, or a breach of trust, making calls to verify the accuracy of certain claims.
But how can a person not be wary after the deceit we've seen in the publishing industry recently?
I followed a link to the original New York Times profile on Seltzer/Jones from a post at Bitch, Ph.D. On reading the article, one of the first things I thought was, "This is going to suck if it's not real." While none of my personal experience would give me any insight as to the authenticity of the story, something about it just seemed fishy. Maybe it's my own cynicism. I mean, hell, the book was being published by a major publishing house, and the New York Times was running a profile. Surely they have to know things I don't, right? Surely they've covered their collective asses and gone through the vetting process, haven't they? No one wants to be the next one going on Oprah saying, "Oops, my author didn't so much mean that it was a memoir as she meant, 'very, very, very loosely based on reality.' As in, 'It's at least set on planet Earth...'"
Sad to say, the fishy smell wasn't just the lingering odor from James Frey's tuna sandwich. Margaret B. Jones just isn't real. The uplifting story of a girl who pulled herself out of a bad situation and turned things around to help other people was all a fake. She claims some parts of the story were based on her friends' lives, but that still doesn't make it a memoir.
So, when does it stop? When do we begin demanding better fact-checking before a book ever hits the shelves? It is so disappointing to invest yourself emotionally in a book, and believe that a real person out there rose above a bad situation, only to see the author brought low again by his or her own newly-exposed lies.
If there's a story you want to tell, by all means, tell it, but don't couch it as truth. Call it the novel that it is, and uplift your readers that way. Sometimes fiction is just as inspiring as fact - sometimes even moreso. It must be nice, that feeling that the world is patting you on the back, admiring you for the hardships you've overcome. But is it really worth the ire you'll receive when you're found out to be a liar? That devalues every word you wrote. It calls into question every. single. thing. It makes what might have been something good into nothing more than disappointment.
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