Authors as Cover Models on Their Own Novels

Publisher’s Weekly recently interviewed young adult author Lois Duncan about the reissue of her long out-of-print young adult title Debutante Hill. I took particular notice, because I read several of Duncan’s books as a youngster. She’s known best for I Know What You Did Last Summer, but her supernatural books appealed most to me. I rapidly tore through A Gift of Magic and The Third Eye. (As an adult, I translated her Hotel for Dogs into French, but that’s a tale for another time.)

While the story of Debutante Hill and its history since 1957 is interesting (she originally submitted it to Seventeen as a short story), what really got my attention was a revelation about the cover of the new edition. That’s a young Lois Duncan herself, pouting petulantly in the passenger seat of the blue Jeep. The photo was taken by her father, pro photographer Joseph Janney Steinmetz, at a local drive-thru. 

That's Lois Duncan, sulking in the foreground.

“All the cars are jammed together,” Duncan said, “and I’m in the picture at age 16, sitting in my blue Jeep sulking because I let some creepy boy drive my beautiful blue Jeep.” PW asked if “the creepy boy” knows he’s on a book cover, but the author hasn’t a clue: “I have no idea who he even is! I can’t remember. I had a car. It was easy to attract boys back then if you had your own car.”

Lois Duncan’s appearance as a cover model on her own book got me to wondering if other authors have appeared on their novels. Sure, lots of writers appear on their own non-fiction works, but what about fiction? Anybody else using themselves to represent a character?

The first person I thought of was Kinky Friedman, who’s in the unique position of being both the author and the main character of his mystery novels. The Kinky Friedman in the novels is a whiskey-swilling, cigar-smoking Texan who pals around with people like Willie Nelson, and wrote a song called “They Don’t Make Jews Like Jesus Anymore” with Kinky Friedman and The Texas Jewboys. The real-life Kinky Friedman is a whiskey-swilling, cigar-smoking Texan who pals around with people like Willie Nelson, and wrote a song called … well, you get the idea. (He’s worth a read, if you haven’t read him. He’s a pretty entertaining narcissist. Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola is a hoot-and-a-half.)

The Kinkster, as both author and main character.

And then there’s Stephen King, who, while not quite on the cover of Misery, appears inside the paperback edition on a faux cover for Misery’s Return, the book Annie Wilkes forces Paul Sheldon to write while captive. King is depicted in full-blown Fabio mode, tongue firmly in cheek.

Stephen King, ripper of bodices.

Speaking of Fabio, as a cover-model-turned author, it only makes sense that he appeared on the covers when he started writing his own books. While his titles are said to be “collaborations” with more experienced authors, I’m guessing that he contributed about as many words as he contributed to his I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! commercials. 

The pen may be mightier, but (ahem) author Fabio is more comfortable with a sword.

If we’re going to talk about ghostwriting, then there are a whole pile of celebrities with novels that bear their name, if not their actual writing. Because the books’ publishers know that the only reason the books will be bought in the first place is because of the celebrity name on the cover, the cover model is always the star-turned-fake-writer, whether it's Snooki or Nicole Richie. In the case of Pamela Anderson, her debut novel Star (about a men’s mag model who lands a role on a TV show in a segment called Hammer Time) has a cover that unfolds to reveal a splayed and nearly-naked Anderson printed on the reverse. 

To see more of Pamela Anderson's work, read the book -- or just unfold the cover.

Maybe every author should follow suit. Perhaps Philip Roth should publish his next hardcover novel with a fold-out centerfold. Joyce Carol Oates could don a wig and a white halter dress for a new edition of Blonde. It would be interesting to see if George R. R. Martin could sell another gazillion books by appearing on his fantasy covers in leather armor. He’s already got the beard. I’ve always believed we should treat writers more like rock stars (which is why I got such a big kick out of Jeffrey Eugenides’ billboard). Bring it on, I say.

Can you think of any other authors who appear on his or her fiction covers? Are there any authors you picture as the characters in their books?

In Which I Go to Ireland for Other Reasons and Accidentally Find Bookish Things

A few weeks ago, I was sent to Ireland in my capacity as a food writer. It’s too bad the focus of Book Dirt prevents me from giving you much detail about how well I was wined and dined by the folks at Good Food Ireland, so I will simply state that Ireland’s poor food reputation is vastly undeserved (The seafood! The cheese!) and leave it at that. 

I took so many notes, it's a wonder I didn't get a hand cramp. (Photo by fellow foodie Eric Cathcart.)

I didn’t expect the trip to have much to do with books other than what I read on the plane (J. S. Le Fanu’s Carmilla, a short by noir queen Christa Faust, and some long-form true crime magazine articles I sent to my Kindle for offline perusing). It turns out that, even on a food-focused trip, interesting book-related things kept happening -- or maybe I’m just particularly attuned to spotting them.

The first bookish finds were, oddly enough, at the Guinness Storehouse at St. James’ Gate Brewery in Dublin. We met Eibhlin Roche, who may have one of the coolest jobs in the world: she’s an archivist for Guinness. It’s not something I’d ever considered before, but a beer that dates back to 1759 has a lot of stuff to archive -- almost five miles of stuff, from advertising and ephemera to employee records. Eibhlin put together a selection of food-related items for our group, which is how I came to see these nifty Guinness cookbooks and vintage ads.

Guinness cookbook, 1889.

One of many pieces of Guinness ephemera at the archives.

Guinness and oysters is a thing in Ireland, and the tradition goes way back.

The famous 9,000 year lease, signed by Arthur Guinness.

Later, in the Connoisseur’s Lounge, which looked a lot like a place Arthur Guinness and his peers would have enjoyed hanging out, I noticed old books on brewing lining the walls. 

Old brewing books at the Connoisseur's Lounge.

Don’t worry. We also drank lots of Guinness. Lots and lots of Guinness.

The dim lounge cast fascinating shadows in my beer.

That same evening, before dinner at the Merrion Hotel, I took a quick walk around Merrion Square to try and work up an appetite. (I was still full from lunch and lots of Guinness.) Apparently, everyone who ever wrote in Dublin lived on Merrion Square, or it seemed that way. I ran into Yeats …

Yeats was here.

... and Le Fanu, whose novel I was re-reading on the plane. 

*Knock knock knock* Is Mr. Le Fanu home?

If I’d walked any further, I would have run into John Synge and Oscar Wilde. A lot of people forget that Wilde was from Ireland, associated so much as he is with London, but he lived at No. 1, Merrion Square from 1855 to 1876. I had to miss them, though. Hurrying back for dinner, I cut through Merrion Square Park, rather than going all the way around the block, and who should I run into but Oscar, hanging out in the park.

Oscar Wilde, just chillin' in Merrion Square Park.

The next few days were a blur, punctuated with various gluts of food and wine. When we arrived at the Cliff House Hotel in Ardmore, County Waterford, the room made me swoon, and not just because it was pretty. It was stocked with books. These weren’t the  trashy paperbacks and bestsellers you sometimes find in a hotel, either, and it was a really nice change from the ubiquitous Gideon Bible. I was stunned at how many Southern U.S. writers I counted.

 

This small bookshelf held mostly cookbooks, but also the poems of Wislawa Szymborska.

I wish I could have stayed here longer just to read.

Alice Walker? Olive Ann Burns? Am I still at home?

One of my biggest book surprises, though, came as I was leaving Ballymaloe House in County Cork. Our little gang of food writers were loading up their luggage when I spotted this van in the parking lot. I strolled over to find out more, and met Bryan, who is a driver/seller for a mobile books service. The concept is fascinating: he drops off books to sell at small shops and businesses, then pops back in later to pick up unsold books and collect his cut. He also sells books directly. He told me that in the early days of the business, the owner’s best customer was a funeral home, as the six ladies who were employed there were avid readers. I envied Bryan for getting to drive around the Irish countryside selling books.

The company relies on self-employed distributors like Bryan to deliver books.

Bryan shows off his inventory.

I mentioned earlier that I probably zeroed in on all the book-related things because I’m in and of the book world. (We had a professional harpist with us, and she kept spotting harps, so there’s definitely some truth to that.) It reminds me of being in college and going to parties where I would inevitably spot something interesting in a bookcase and end up reading in a corner, engrossed in the text and oblivious to the carousing around me.

If you’re a book person, you don’t even have to really look, I guess. The books will come to you.


Have you encountered books, authors, or stories about them in places where you least expected them?

Who Wrote Dante’s Inferno? Booksellers Really Wish You Knew.

Dante wants to know: Who wrote my Inferno?

Anyone who works in a bookstore or library is used to the mangled titles. In between giving directions to the bathroom (the number one bookstore request of all time), we keep a poker face while fielding inquiries about The Count of Monte Crisco and How to Kill a Mockingbird. It’s easy not to crack, mostly because of how often the same twisted titles get repeated.

What never ceases to boggle the mind, though, is the number one non-bathroom question customers ask over and over again.

Who wrote Dante’s Inferno?

No joke, it’s something bookstore customers really want to know, and with alarming frequency. It’s tricky to keep from sounding curt when answering  “Dante,” but it’s the correct and only response, despite the temptation to wickedly answer “Nostradamus” or even “Jackie Collins.”

I’m not sure why it’s poor Dante alone who falls prey to this phenomenon (though The Diary of Anne Frank gets occasional questions about its authorship, presumably by people who think it’s a work of fiction.)

No one ever walks in the door and asks, say, “Who wrote Shakespeare’s Hamlet?” or “Do you happen to know the author of Judy Blume’s Superfudge?” No, it’s Dante and The Inferno alone that befuddle students and mature adults alike.

Friends from other bookstores confirm that they hear it too, and so do librarians. And, to add to my astonishment, not only do people take to the Internet to ask who wrote Dante’s most famous work, but the Internet sometimes gets it shockingly wrong.  (Screenshot below.)

So, just to be clear to anyone who pulls this article up in a search because they --like thousands of other bookstore customers across the country-- need to know who wrote Dante’s Inferno-- the answer you’re looking for is Dante.

But of course you knew that.

===

Book shop employees and other folks: What are some of the most bizarre questions you've heard? And who wrote Dante's Inferno?

Literary Dolls: Play House with Your Favorite Authors

There’s an obscure 1990 song I used to like that ends with this spoken line: “Wow, they have Nick Cave dolls now? I waaaant one.”

Well, there may not be a pint-sized version of musician Nick Cave yet, but you can now buy replicas of a bevy of famous authors, thanks to Debbie Ritter of Uneek Doll Designs. Now that I’ve seen her handiwork, all I can say is: “They have Joyce Carol Oates dolls now? I waaant one!”

Make your Joyce Carol Oates doll spend hours writing in longhand. (All photos via Uneek Doll Designs.)

The Joyce Carol Oates doll has sold, but Ritter has plenty of literary dolls to choose from. Considering how tiny these dolls are, the attention to details is wonderful, especially the clothing choices, from Maya Angelou’s golden earrings to Anne Sexton’s “fashionable striped pants with brown sash.”

Some of my favorite literary dolls:

A mutton-chopped Asimov doll in a cozy sweater...

I, Isaac Asimov

Maya Angelou doll with perfect silver streak and bonus fashion jewelry...

She knows why the housed doll sings.

 G.K. Chesterton...

I like to call him G.K. Chesterdrawers.

Lest you think that only classic literature is represented, take a gander at these ladies:

Teen icon Judy Blume...

Ready to discuss the symbolism in Superfudge.

A suitably classy Erma Bombeck...

The grass is always greener over the miniature septic tank.

Regency romance queen Barbara Cartland. The doll looks uncannily like her back-of-the-jacket photos, but with less airbrushing...

With a copy of The Rakish Rogue or The Roguish Rake or somesuch.

Not only can you buy dolls of the authors, but also their characters. Dolls from Les Miserables are ready to start a tiny revolution, or you can re-enact your favorite scenes from The Hunchback of Notre Dame with your very own Quasimodo. Particularly hard to resist is this aptly insane Mrs. Rochester.

Set it on fire, then order more!

Ritter takes custom orders, so I’m debating whether or not to commision a redo of the Joyce Carol Oates doll, or perhaps a frail Joan Didion or a dour Patricia Highsmith. Some Wodehouse characters would make me swoon, too. Maybe a newt-fancying Gussie Fink-Nottle?

See all of Uneek Doll Designs author dolls here, and characters here.

What author or character would you like to see in doll form? 

Forget the Edgars: Which mystery author will win a morgue?

There’s a veritable slew of awards for crime writers of excellence, from the Edgars and the Agathas to the Neros and the Hammetts.

But the latest prize to be offered to a notable mystery writer will require a little more space than a bookshelf or trophy case will allow: It’s a new morgue. (Note: You have to imagine this in Bob Barkers’s voice, i.e. “It’s a newwwwww morgue!”)

Dundee University has come up with a revolutionary way to raise funds for the new addition to its Centre for Anatomy and Human Identification. Ten crime writers are competing in the Million for a Morgue competition for the chance to have the morgue named for them, with fans contributing a pound (or more) to vote.

The mystery mavens competing for the eponym are: Tess Gerritsen, Kathy Reichs, Lee Child, Harlan Coben, Mark Billingham, Jeffrey Deaver, Jeff Lindsay, Stuart MacBride, Peter James and Val McDermid.

Tess Gerritsen is in the lead as of this writing, so fans of Val McDermid’s likeable weirdo Tony Hill or Jeffrey Deaver’s quadriplegic Lincoln Rhyme should think about coughing up some coin.

The method of fundraising isn’t the only revolutionary thing about the project. The BBC reports that the newly built morgue “will adopt a "revolutionary" way of embalming - called the Thiel method - which keeps bodies flexible for longer.”

Which mystery writer are you pulling for? Or what would you like to see named for your favorite writer? (My answers are a. McDermid, and b. Martin Amis BBQ sauce, for no reason other than a larf.)

Jeffery Eugenides Looms Over Times Square; Sells Books to Women

Wall Street Journal

You don’t often see authors’ faces on billboards, so even Jeffrey Eugenides was surprised when Farrar, Straus and Giroux decided to hype his new book The Marriage Plot with a Times Square ad. It’s a refreshing sight, but it’s also a throwback to a time when we treated writers a little more like we ought to --like rock stars.

It's not like 1971 anymore, when Norman Mailer and Gore Vidal got into a literal fistfight on the Dick Cavett show.  How long has it been since two writers faced off on a talk show? When Jonathan Franzen appeared on the cover of Time last year, he was the first writer in ten years to do so. So, more of this, I say. Our writers ought to be our idols.

The Eugenides billboard brings up another point, though. Take a good look at how the billboard is designed, and at how the book appears to be marketing itself. From the wedding ring on the cover to the frilly font and the posing of Eugenides himself as a sex god, The Marriage Plot (note the title, too --sounds madcap) is clearly aimed at women.

Wedding ring covers: pretty much an indicator of marketing to women.

Just to make it extra-clear that the billboard is more yin than yang, I did a Google search to see what sorts of things are described as “swoon-worthy.” 

Swoon-worthy things, according to Google:

• Zac Efron shirtless
• the cast of Twilight
• wine and sunsets
• lace-trimmed outfits
• cakes
• wedding dresses
• lavender sweatpants
• a pistachio-colored handbag
• boyfriends doing the cooking

Is it me, or do those seem a tad on the girls’ team?

I bring all this up because a few female authors of late have taken umbrage at the packaging of their books, complaining that the marketing strategy is too female, and that the publishers are selling the authors short. Most recently Polly Courtney dropped her publisher because of cover art she claimed made her novels seem like chick-lit.

The cover that was the last straw for Polly Courtney.

If anything makes Polly Courtney’s novels seem like chick-lit, it might actually be the novels themselves. While they may not have the fashion designer namedropping, they do have amnesiac women torn between two men or feisty women working in a man’s world. There is absolutely nothing wrong with these storylines (this isn’t a criticism of Coutney’s work or genre), but they do seem aimed at women. Chick-lit review sites concur that her book is par for the course with what they read and review.

Courtney isn’t a literary writer or a particularly ground-breaking one. Eugenides actually is (That’s his Pulitzer talking, not me.) It’s a distinction worth noting because it raises the question: Why isn’t Eugenides upset that his books are being marketed toward women? He certainly could argue that the publisher is narrowing his potential fan base.

The answer, though I can’t speak for Eugenides himself, is probably due to the fact that women make up a whopping 80% of the fiction market. With that in mind, why wouldn’t someone like Courtney --whose books are not going to close any gender gap in fiction reading by plot alone-- want to market to the people who are actually doing the buying and reading of books like hers?

Nicholas Sparks is another example of a man who seems pretty pleased to have his books marketed to women (his covers tend to have moody sunsets and couples-in-a-clinch). His estimated net worth is a cool $30 million. (His latest movie deal stars Zac Efron. Whether or not he’s shirtless will no doubt determine the swoon-worthiness.)

Nicholas Sparks: Marketing to the 80%.

Best of luck to Polly Courtney, but if she wants to succeed on a level like Sparks or Eugenides, she might do well to understand who her audience is and embrace them instead of looking down on them. She might also want to understand that book packaging has less to do with the gender of the author and everything to do with sales.

Do you think publishers are wrong to determine a book’s audience, or should the author have the final say? And which author would you like to see looming over you from a billboard? Better yet --if you were on the billboard yourself, which adjective would you want emblazoned across it?