Amazon.com Review
"To all reviewers," John Maxwell Hamilton dedicates
Casanova Was a Book Lover. "Because only ungrateful asses would pan a book after having it dedicated to them." Hamilton needn't have taken the precaution. According to his editor, "Our modern reviewer is like a counselor at a self-esteem camp." If so, then gather round the fire, campers--it's time to enlarge Mr. Hamilton's ego. Hamilton's inquiry into the world of books and writing and publishing is sharp, fresh, and witty--erudite but devoid, thankfully, of academese. Each chapter addresses a single, often quirky aspect of the book world. One bemoans the idiocy of most acknowledgments pages, another the cheerleading and book-reportish quality of contemporary reviewing. The book's first chapter examines the writer's economic struggle, cheerily noting the convenience, in this regard, of his or her being in jail: "the big advantage ... is that a writer need not worry about making money or fret about having to take time out for cooking or doing the laundry." Later chapters include an etiquette guide for authors and readers ("reading your friend's book is a nice thing to do, but not required"--whew!), a survey of bad writing by presidents of the United States, and an exploration of the complicated decision-making that takes place at the inundated Library of Congress.
Among the most amusing bits here (though the primer to banal acknowledgments wins hands down) is Hamilton's list not of the bestselling books, which gather momentum just by being popular, but of the best-stolen books. These, he says, are the books people really want. Topping the list, as the Gideons are well aware, is the Bible, the stealing of which, Hamilton muses, "might seem to defeat the purpose of wanting it in the first place: salvation." Even the Waldorf Astoria stocks used books, "so wealthy guests can steal them." Of course, most struggling writers would love to write a book so desired it becomes theft-worthy. A book's success, though, says Hamilton, depends largely on "the talent that best serves a writer," luck. "Sometimes," he adds, "the worst luck, like dropping dead, can be the most fortuitous of all." --Jane Steinberg
From Publishers Weekly
NPR commentator Hamilton, who critically assessed the state of print journalism in Hold the Press: The Inside Story of Newspapers, now takes on the "Literary-Industrial Complex" in this disappointing book. In nine chapters, Hamilton (dean of LSU's school of mass communications) covers a lot of ground at a breakneck pace: he gives a lively rundown of the nation's most stolen books (the Bible, The Joy of Sex and Practice for the Armed Services Test top the list); he peevishly examines the banal rules that govern the contents of "the acknowledgements page"; and he spends a lot of time attacking well-flogged horses such as Amazon.com, Oprah's book club, the Book-of-the-Month Club, the overflow of bestsellers from Stephen King and such mega-corporate publishers as Bertelsmann. (He also criticizes the state of book reviewing--but here he isn't critical enough.) Hamilton is a capable writer, but he relies too often on secondhand statistics, thirdhand anecdotes and heavy attempts at light humor. The last chapter, in which he interviews the staff of the Library of Congress about their battle with the growing information glut and their preservation problems, stands out as a fresh contribution to the debates about books and publishing. Unfortunately, the rest of the time Hamilton can't decide if he wants to provide bibliophiles with a casual collection of interesting tidbits or a critical assessment of the state of the book industry. (Apr.)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
