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July 14, 2004

the unlit lamp & the ungirt loin

Just about six weeks or so before a new book comes out, I start thinking about reviews. Because they are coming. They are coming from places like Kirkus and Publishers Weekly and Booklist. My publisher and editor will read them. They will be sent to me. They will end up on Amazon, bad or good, scrupulously fair or dripping with venom, as the first thing a potential buyer reads.

The reviews can be limp with distaste or bristling with sarcasm or even positive -- but one thing is pretty constant: I almost always have the really strong sense that the reviewer didn't really read the book beyond a casual skimming. Here's the thing: reviews -- even mean spirited ones, even nasty ones -- would be easier to take if the process were less opaque. The big places who exist primarily to produce reviews (Kirkus, for example) do so anonymously. The books are farmed out like so many little lambs, and the reviewers are paid far less than the cost of a rib roast for a review. They are often frustrated writers and students of writing.

Being reviewed by PW is a little bit like being sewn (blindfolded) into a sack with a very unstable bipolar person who may, or may not be, on meds, but who certainly has a weapon.

I know this sounds like the mewling of a disgruntled mother after her baby has failed to win the beauty contest. After all, I didn't have to write the book, and I didn't have to go find an agent or let her sell it or take the money. Reviews are part of the process and the price.

So it's time to gird my loins. That phrase always strikes me as particularly funny -- as a kid it gave me a mental image of a sirloin wrapped in bacon (there's a theme here, I notice, blood and meat and cutting) -- so to cheer myself up I went over to the OED. This is part of the entry under loins:

2. Chiefly Biblical and poet. This part of the body, regarded    a. as the part of the body that should be covered by clothing and about which the clothes are bound; so, to gird (up) the loins (lit. and fig.), to prepare for strenuous exertion.

    1526 TINDALE Matt. iii. 4 This Jhon had his garment off camels heer and a gerdell off a skynne aboute his loynes. 1535 COVERDALE Prov. xxxi. 17 She gyrdeth hir loynes with strength. 1605 SHAKES. Lear II. iii. 10 My face Ile grime with filth, Blanket my loines. 1667 MILTON P.L. IX. 1096 Some Tree whose broad smooth Leaves together sowd, And girded on our loyns, may cover round Those middle parts. 1742 COLLINS Ode Poet. Charac. 21 To gird their blest prophetick loins. 1753 SMART Hilliad I. 27 Her loins with patch-work cincture were begirt. 1833 L. RITCHIE Wand. by Loire 17 It was necessary, therefore, to gird up our loins and walk. 1855 BROWNING Statue & Bust, The unlit lamp and the ungirt loin. 1877 BRYANT Odyss. v. 280 And round about her loins Wound a fair golden girdle. 1880 MRS. E. LYNN LINTON Rebel of Fam. II. v, He was standing like the impersonation of masculine punctuality with loins girded.

How about that patch-work cincture? And I particularly like the Browning quote: the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin. Because when somebody at Publishers Weekly decides to teach an uppity author a lesson, you need some time in a dark room to recover, and tend to the wounds.

July 14, 2004 08:36 AM

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Comments

Ah, one of my least favorite categories of people: those possessing frustratingly limited powers, that they use carelessly in ways that mess with others.

Glad you've got the clear mental picture, because I find that having some insight into How Things Work is a very good thing for ones own sanity. (Back when I pictured certain folks as necessarily learned and wise and having the power and right to judge my goodness, life was much harder.)

Anyway, [grrrrr]. I grrrr at all such on your behalf! They may muddy the waters on Amazon (or are they more like some of the bitey little fish [g]?), but, sadly, they are doomed to cope with their frustrations without being able to eat chocolate with us while we watch Farscape.

Meanwhile, re the Amazon Knee-Jerk Contrarian game: The wounded rant about the nasty black bars on Lawrence of Arabia was my favorite, too. ("OW! You hurt my brain like MATH!")

Posted by: robyn at July 15, 2004 08:45 PM

chocolate! Farscape! now, those are comforting words. Many thanks.

Posted by: sara at July 15, 2004 10:28 PM