Oh noes...not Samantha!

Have you heard the horrible news? The American Girl Company is apparently doing away with one of the original dolls: Samantha Parkington. Now, I never had Samantha. My friend Katie did. And my friend Lauren had Molly. My friend Amanda had Kirsten. I had Felicity. Now, she wasn't one of the three, but she was the fourth! So, whatever. It counts.

Anyway, this shock led me to visit the American Girl website for the first time since, well, ever. I'm old school. I used to get those giant catalogues in the mail once a month, and put stars next to the ridiculously expensive accesories that I hoped my mom would get me for christmas. This was before you could get matching outfits or "bitty babies" (what the hell) or "just like you" dolls. Hell, I remember when the girls only had THREE books each (they have six now).

Oh, and I totally owned this. And this. And so many dresses like this. Omg, now I can't wait for Thanksgiving to tear apart my mother's neatly organized pile of "My daughter's crap I can't give to her because she lives in a tiny apartment in NY" looking for all of it!!

Whew. Ok, sorry. What was my point? Um...oh, yeah, the Samanth books will continue. They're published by, uh, oh, American Girl. Convenient. So, good. Eee, I love you, Felicity!

--Ladytron

Leaked: Sample from Emily Gould

Afterwards we sit on the fire escape half-naked and smoke a cigarette. Because he spends so much time working out, his smoking seems glamorous --louche and earned, not depressing and desperate like my ex-boyfriend's. He passes the cigarette to me and looks away, letting the sunset caress his profile and make him look like a still from a French movie, his face in sharp focus against the tenement blocks and the taller towers in the distance, dark against the streaky pink summer sky. I exhale into a breeze that feels like a caress. The day has cooled and now the air is the exact temperature as the blood that's slowing its race through my veins. I slump against him and feel his body stiffen almost imperceptibly. He has five more minutes and then he really has to leave for wrestling, and besides, sex never seems to relax him. Sometimes, I've noticed, he wakes up in the morning with balled fists.

Hmm. It's just so easy. Now, I know we've given Sloane a lot of shit in the past, but wow. This leaked excerpt from Emily Gould's book proposal just gave me a whole new level of respect for Ms. Crosely. At least the samples I read from Sloane (no, I never read the book. yes, I am a hypocrite) were amusingly self-deprecating. And maybe some of Emily stories (told through her TATTOOS. um, yeah.) will be as well. But if it's gonna be a whole book of prose written in the style of a 14 year old girl trying to be deep, well then. The air is the exact temperature as the blood that's slowing its race through my veins? I call bullshit. Was the air 98.6 degrees? 'cause that's by no means "cool." Or is Emily Gould's core body temperature freakishly low? Is that why her writing is so sluggish?

Also, any bets on who the boy is? Based on the pics of Gawker/Page 6 writer Joshua David Stein and his muscley torso, I'm going with Josh. Which means ex-boyfriend is probably poor Hugh. You remember Hugh, right? Of course you do! Emily talked all about him and how she flirted inappropriately with Josh while they were till together? In that NY Times Magazine piece? Remember? Of course you do.

Anyway, to quote Emily, "While nothing that has happened to me in and of itself has been that noteworthy: Lots of young people have lived in big cities, and have had an assortment of strange and ordinary jobs… there are some truths about doing these things and about writing about them online that haven't yet been expressed."

That's true, dear. Nothing has been noteworthy. Which is why people hated your piece in the Sunday Magazine. And which is why they will tear apart your book. And while perhaps there are "some truths" that haven't been expressed, that doesn't mean they should be.

--Paige Sexie

Random tidbits that are upsetting me.

I forgot to eat breakfast, so I feel stabby.

Emily Gould is shopping a book.

John McCain's campaign has a facebook game - and I actually downloaded it.

Keith Gessen is being interviewed on "Bookworm."

The Old Hag got a book deal based off of Jezebel posts (actually, I really like those posts, but a book, really?? Although, I suppose it's no more ridiculous than this. Or this. Or this.)

Cody's is closing for good.

My authors who refuse to understand why an established indie bookstore wouldn't want a debut, non-local author for an event. (sorry, no link for this. it just is)

The existence of The Shack, and how it will encourage thousands of deluded "writers" that they too can become bestsellers with no publisher, no support, and no publicist.

U.S. News & World Report's list of ways to deal with an office of 20-somethings. And the comments that other old farts added. Seriously, just give us some money and some respect, and we'll all get along just fine.

It's Wednesday - scientifically proven to be the longest day of the week.

Blech,

The Editor

Is the TBR all it's cracked up to be?

So, yesterday, I was flipping through the NYT Book Review and noticed that they had finally gotten around to reviewing Barbara Walter's Audition. This in turn reminded me of a conversation I've had with several authors and industry peeps over the past few months - has the Times Book Review become outdated and irrelevant?

Most authors (and publicists) consider the TBR to be the holy grail of print media. Everyone wants a their book to be reviewed there. Next to, "what about Oprah?," this is the most common question I get from authors. Yet, the times (ha) I have gotten full page reviews, it's barely moved books. Not to mention, these are almost always books that have already been covered a multitude of other places. Sometimes it feels as though the TBR waits to see what everyone else is going to do, and then jumps on the bandwagon - at which point, I no longer care about the book.

For instance, this week, there was a review of Barbara Walter's Audition - which came out over a month ago and has been covered ad nauseum by bloggers, reviewers, TV and radio, etc. We all know the scandalous parts already, and anyone who cared to read the book, probably has already done so. Or is waiting for the paperback. Why bother to run a review a month after pub? Even bookstores don't like to host events after a month has lapsed...why is the Times so willing to feature a book that has arguably already jumped the shark?

There are exceptions of course. There's a review of the new David Sedaris, which pubbed only two weeks ago (and which, btw, I can't wait to read!). But again, even two weeks feels like a long period of time. As publicists, we're taught to get in as much media the week of pub. Not the second or third or fourth. I mean, we'll take coverage those weeks, but we're supposed to line up as much as possible with the hopes of moving enough books to debut high on the list.

So why doesn't the TBR follow this? I know it's not because we don't get the books to them soon enough. As soon as galleys arrive, copies are immediately sent to Dwight, Sam, Nancy, Rick...And yes, I know they received hundreds (if not thousands) of books a week, but you know what, so do all the other major outlets...which often beat the times in coverage by several weeks...is it just because they CAN? Or is it because they are struggling to keep up in an era where book news breaks quickly and bloggers have upped the ante on churning out reviews?

Or I am just being grouchy because it's Monday and I'm bitter because not enough of my books are reviewed?

--Paige Sexie

I do not heart Jet Blue

Dear Jet Blue,

I hate you. You have ruined my morning/afternoon/period during the day when I do not have an alcoholic beverage handy. I was so looking forward to flying you to L.A. for the ever hellish BookExpo. You and your satellite TV were the bright part of my whole trip - except the free booze I would be getting at all the evening parties. And the room service I would be ordering every morning.

But now, now you send me an informal email declaring that due to "rising fuel costs," you will no longer be flying to LAX. Although you did nicely rebook me - to LONG BEACH. Yes, I know it's only another 20 miles away from my hotel. But those are 20 L.A. traffic hell miles. After which I will have to run over to the Convention Center to make sure our booth is in working order - since it never seems to be. And then, on Sunday, when I will no doubt be horribly hungover, overworked, and no longer functioning, I will have to sit again for 20 extra bumper-to-bumper miles to sit on a long-ass flight to get back to New York. And you didn't even have the courtesy to offer me a free beverage - or ten.

Oh, the betrayal. You better pray that my personal TV is in working condition - or, mark my words, there will be hell to pay.

Irritably your's,

Ladytron

An open letter to PW

Dear PW:

What the hell! First your email bounces back and then you just ignore me - do I not send you tons of books each year? Are they not good enough? Sure I know some of them weren't the best - but they have feelings too ya know!

WTF PW!

Hugs,
Babytron

what the hell pw?

Hi, I'm sorry, we are no longer able to provide the service of checking to see if a book has been schedule for review. Sincerely,
Isabell Taylor
Executive Assistant Publishers Weekly