Filed under: Booking Through Thursday | Tags: Booking Through Thursday, Pride and Prejudice, Romeo and Juliet, Twilight, Wuthering Heights
I’d consider any book touted as “surreal” and “hilarious” a godsend. Lately though, I’ve been finding that any time the back cover blurb mentions that a book is in any way comical, I end up feeling gypped. We all have a different understanding of what “funny” is, I realize that, and even when a book is said to be “hilarious” or “hysterical,” I’m not so naïve—or easily deceived by marketing gimmicks—to believe that I’ll be busting a gut as I flip through its pages. But if the book fails to make me crack a smile or even think, “Ah yes, now that sentence was rather humorous” as I adjust my monocle, then I’d say that that back cover blurb failed to deliver on its promise.
What I usually find most useful in selecting books are those little author endorsement quotes. If another writer that I like has said that he/she enjoyed the book then I’ll probably buy it. I know that writers share publishers and publishers ask more established/successful writers to provide these sorts of quotes for up-and-comers, but I doubt anyone would ever cosign something that was horrible.
The thing that I find slightly baffling these days, is the use of Twilight to market classics (something that I’ve brought up before.)
Filed under: Booking Through Thursday | Tags: 42, Booking Through Thursday, Douglas Adams, Life The Universe And Everything, Meme, Nick Hornby
You’d think that you’d be able to come up with an answer to this question immediately but that just isn’t the case, is it? I’ve had the opportunity to attend several book readings where authors I adore were standing only a few feet away from me and each time my brain seemed to stop functioning. A couple of weeks ago I was standing beside Nick Hornby and just couldn’t remember how to construct sentences. He actually had to ask me if I wanted to take a picture with him. “C’mon, Amber,” he said. “I’m not here that often.” So this question presupposes that, when face to face with my favorite author, I’d be able to speak, which is unlikely, but I’ll just try and go with it.
I think I’d ask Douglas Adams to write a sentence for me.
A sentence written by the man who said that the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is “42,” is bound to be both poignant, pithy, peculiar, and priceless.