What BEA Taught A Know-It-All
by A.J. Jacobs, PW Daily for Booksellers
-- Publishers Weekly, 6/10/2004
Editors Note: This is the first of a three-part story by author and editor A.J. Jacobs that will continue tomorrow and Friday.
Recently I read the entire Encyclopaedia Britannica from A to Z in order to write a book called The Know-it-all: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World. So I figured I knew a bit about the printed word. I knew that the United Nations defines a book as a text of at least 49 pages. I knew that Edgar Allan Poe married his 13-year-old cousin, making him the Jerry Lee Lewis of his day. I knew that in real life Proust's memories were sparked not by a madeleine, but by something akin to Zwiebach toast. So I thought I knew publishing.
With that in mind, Publishers Weekly sent me to BEA to see if there were one or two facts about books I didn't know yet. And I did learn some things. Actually, I learned a distressing amount. I learned that every morning President Clinton looks in the mirror and says to himself, "You're beautiful." I learned that a Dutchman, during the tulip craze, traded his estate and grounds for three tulips. I learned the unique feeling of mingling with 7,000 booksellers, 600 authors, Marilu Henner and a Viking.
Here, a concise encyclopedia of other things I learned at BEA.
Adoration: Bill Clinton was, without question, the rock star of the show. Fans camped out in line for hours. And when he kept us waiting, the crowd started some rhythmic clapping. People were practically waving lighters in the air.
Clinton gave a happy, positive vibe to the BEA. And not just because he said he loved to go to libraries as a kid (big applause from the library contingent). He told us we were all going to be fine. The nation would emerge stronger than ever. We would survive this time of strife, terrorism and Lad Lit.
Bathroom Literature: Author Michael Szymczyk could be found wandering the floor with a toilet over his head. He was promoting his novel Toilet, about a toilet that one day wakes up and finds himself turned into a human. He said it's Kafkaesque. Which is appropriate because, if I remember correctly, Kafka worked the floor of the 1924 Prague Book Expo dressed as a cockroach.
Carpets: I'm still trying to decipher the meaning behind the bizarre disparity in carpet quality at the booths. Why are some so thin? Why some so plush? Is it linked to a publisher's bottom line? To some in with expo organizers? Regardless, I must give props to Harcourt for their impressively high pile. Very soft. It was like walking on Malcolm Gladwell's hair.
Debauchery: Jenna Jameson has a book coming out: How to Make Love Like a Porn Star. My PW boss didn't know who Jenna Jameson was. I had to reluctantly admit that, yes, I was aware of Ms. Jameson and her work. You know, for sociological reasons. Anyway, the sales pitch had the most titter-worthy double entendre of the BEA: Cal Morgan of ReganBooks called it a Trojan Horse of a book.
Incidentally, Jameson will have to do battle with Tommy Lee's upcoming autobiography from Atria, which contains a chapter written by his penis. You scoff, but his penis did attend Iowa Writers Workshop.
Devotion: The key to publishing success - not counting a keynote speech by your author- is bookstore owners. I knew they were important, but the amount of flattery ladled out makes me realize the extent of their power. Knopf's Sonny Mehta called bookselling a noble endeavor. And author Ron Suskind said he'd write college recommendations for the booksellers' kids. Note to booksellers: I'm available for SAT tutoring.
Encyclopedia: I may have read the Encyclopaedia Britannica. But I discovered that to truly know it all I should read the 26 other encyclopedias at the BEA. I should read the Encyclopedia of Hydrangeas, the Encyclopedia of Thai Massage, the Encyclopedia of Modern Witchcraft and Neo-Paganism.
Did the Britannica tell me that the Homer Rhode Loop is useful for attaching rapid action lures to heavy monofilament leaders? No, I had to turn to the Encyclopedia of Fishing Knots and Rigs for that.
Galley Signing: I was worried that no one would come to the signing for my forthcoming book (my mother was in New York and unable to attend).
Luckily, people actually did line up, which was nice. But I was a little wary of the Galley Hoarders. Perhaps you've seen them? The folks with rolling suitcases bulging with any galley not nailed down, whether it's a novel about talking hedgehogs or a Pilates manual. They've got badges that bear the disturbingly vague description "Industry Professional." They instruct you to simply sign your name, not personalize it. And then they're off, rolling away in search of the next galley.
Rumor has it they're putting the galleys on eBay. If that's true, I'd like to know. I'd happily put some up myself.
Giveaways: I learned it's damn hard to resist the lure of free stuff, no matter how crappy said stuff is. A hunk of peat moss. Thanks! Yes, I'll take two. Here, the highlights.
Giveaway most likely to be confiscated by airport security: The Valerie Solanas boxcutters. Verso handed out boxcutters to celebrate the Scum Manifesto, the book by the woman who shot Andy Warhol. As much as I'd like a Valerie Solanas keepsake, I decided to leave mine in the hotel.
Giveaway least likely to be needed by me--the father of a newborn--anytime soon: Condom lollipops handed out by erotica publisher Ellora's Cave.
Giveaway for publishers gone wild: The Mardi Gras beads from Louisiana State University Press. You didn't need to lift your shirt to get them, but rumor has it that Tom Wolfe insisted on doing it anyway. Well, maybe I made that up.
When he's not walking the halls of BEA, Jacobs is senior editor at Esquire. His book, The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World will by published by Simon & Schuster in October. Tomorrow on PW Daily, Jacobs will take us from H to O, reflecting on the brilliance of Dale Peck, the popularity of Rob Weisbach and the role of flatulence in contemporary literature.
