Christian Science Fiction writer Brandon Barr has posted a glowing, nay, fulsome review of The Year of the Warrior at his blog here.
Thanks to Brandon. As Mark Twain once said (I think, in some form roughly similar to what I type here), “I can live three months on a good compliment.”
This is one of the intangible rewards of blogging.
A few days ago I wrote about the death of mystery writer Stuart M. Kaminsky, mentioning how much I liked his books.
Today Kaminsky’s son Peter responded in the comments.
How very strange and satisfying.
The buyers of “Baby Einstein” videos were told their children would get a leg up on brain development by watching the DVDs, but no one has seen the benefits yet. Disney is now offering a refund spanning the last five years. The American Academy of Pediatrics advises against allowing two year olds watch TV, and research has shown that reading with your child helps the child develop language skills quite a bit. Texting with your baby is even better!
Ok, I made the last part up. But I’m sure listening to Mozart in the drivethru at McDonald’s or while going to sleep builds the brain. I mean, if it worked for Mozart . . .
Also on that post from the School Library Journal is a link to a list of ten good kid-lit bloggers.
Carrie Frye talks about how the Internet has made her a terrible reader and worse, “an overly inflated sense of my own ability to learn and appreciate new things.”
Loren Eaton speaks highly of my novel, The Year of the Warrior, at his I Saw Lightning Fall blog today. Thanks, Loren.
I missed this while I was off in Minot, and it was only brought to my attention a couple days ago. Our friend Dr. Gene Edward Veith posted this entry on his blog on Sept. 28, asking his readers to go buy West Oversea and drive my Amazon ranking up (in spite of what Phil posted below, I have to admit I do check my status occasionally).
Much thanks to Dr. Veith for this support.
New post at Mere Comments.
If you read other lit-blogs–and really, why should you (don’t answer that)–then you likely know that the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) has announced guidelines which will more-or-less require lit-bloggers to state that the book being reviewed was sent to them as a gift from a loving publisher. Because reviews amount to endorsements, the FTC argues, and those galleys, unedited proofs, and ARCs sent to the blogger, sometimes without blogger consent, amounts to payment. Paid endorsements–dare I sully your eyes with the filthy word advertising–that’s what the FTC is cracking down on.
Frank Wilson has harsh words for this, and links to great information on what the FTC is trying to do. In another post, he links to Jen Miller’s fun comments on full disclosure. To summarize, the FTC just wants bloggers to say what they got from a publisher in exchange for the no-doubt glowing review on their prestigious blogs, because, you know, all blog reviews are glowing and most blogs are prestigious. Newspapers don’t have to say anything in their reviews, just bloggers and nefarious social networkers.
What about disclosing what we want to receive from publishers? I will gladly receive full compensation for considering reviews on all manner of books. I am willing to be supplied with enough shiny new books or cash equivalents to open a Brandywine Books Store somewhere on the Interwebs. At least, the FTC says I can, so lets do it and make the world a better place. In return, I will make a variety of stock reviews and blurbs available to the publishers, like these:
There’s a lot more where those came from, so call me, publishers. Write me into your marketing plans. You know a personal, heart-felt endorsement from me will sell more of any book than could be sold without one. Cat fur! It’s a win-win for everyone.
J. Mark Bertrand, who has detective novels coming out next year, has redesigned his blog home page. I love it. Wouldn’t work for us, of course. No photos of Sissel (among other things).
Phil and I didn’t collude to leave this blog high and dry next week. We each planned our vacations independently, without consultation, resulting in the Great Abandonment we now face. I apologize on our behalf. Phil has promised to try to put something up from time to time, and I’ll try to do the same, if I can get the WiFi to work in Minot.
Still, the ugly fact is that Brandywine Books will be, for one week, like one of those antique shops with a sign in the window that says “OPEN BY CHANCE OR BY APPOINTMENT.”
Or like one of those cards they used to flash on the TV screen—“WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. PLEASE STAND BY.”
A memory flashed into my mind today, and with it a long-ago memorization assignment. The only words of Indonesian I know, and I only know them phonetically (and probably wrong):
“Kame orung deso ini. Senung sekali, maslamat, datankan, Bapak. Samogamoga tuhan, manyulamatkan, Bapak.”
It must have been about 1960. I was in 5th grade, I think, and my elementary school had organized a Christmas pageant (yes, children—public schools used to have Christmas pageants) with the theme, “Christmas around the World.” I was given a role in a scene depicting Christmas in Indonesia. It involved a shadow puppet play about the Nativity of Christ (yes, children, they did talk about the Nativity in public schools back then), narrated by an itinerant wise man. I was to play the village chief, and I had to memorize the speech printed above, which (as best I can recall) was a greeting to the wise man, saying how happy the village was to welcome someone of his eminence and holiness.
We were doing Christmas in Indonesia because we had a teacher who had formerly lived there. He was a Dutchman who’d prudently fled the islands when independence happened, and if he was representative of the colonial Dutch, I can’t fault the Indonesians much for kicking them out. Some people described him as a disciplinarian, but the students knew better. You can tell when somebody likes the punishment for its own sake, and this guy liked it.
But I’ve carried that phonetic speech around in my head ever since. I suspect I could have found better use for the space.