Category: Literature


Book Buyers

I was catching up on Twitter this evening, and I ran across a particular tweet from @grammargirl. (You can find her over at Quick and Dirty Tips) She said this:

Wow. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has temporarily stopped acquiring manuscripts. Their editors aren’t buying books.

She linked to this article over at Publisher’s Weekly. If you don’t want to read the article (Come on. It’s short.), the key line is “PW has learned that Houghton Mifflin Harcourt has asked its editors to stop buying books.”

I’m a big fan of books. I read a lot of them. I buy a lot more of them. Some day, I would like to write one or two. I’ve been watching the publication industry for a while, because I would like to get into it in some capacity, and I have never heard of a publisher putting an entire hold on buying books. Spokespeople at Houghton Mifflin Harcourt are saying that the move isn’t indicative of anything too sinister, but how can it not? While I’m sure the publisher has a vast store of manuscripts it has purchased not (yet) published, but if a publisher stops buying books, it creates a stagnation in thought.

Think about it: no new books are coming in, so new books will stop going out, and while there are tons of books out there, and no one could ever read them all, publication of new and ever-improving ideas is a must for the development of culture, philosophy, or really any other facet of life. This move by Houghton Mifflin really has me concerned, even if it is being called a “temporary” situation. This is a dangerous precedent for them to have set.

Busy Bee, Beaver, Bear, Whatever.

This has been a busy weekend for me. That’s pretty unusual because I typically just end up reading all day Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t get much reading done, unfortunately, but I did get lots of web-ly things done.

First, I moved this blog from tylerfontaine.com over to here, at my shiny, new, name-matching domain. That’s pretty exciting for me, as I’ve been trying to get a Thursday’s Child domain for a while now.

Secondly, I built a blog for my wonderful lady friend, and should go visit Kreestone at Smalltown Dinosaur. There’s no content there yet, but she’s working on that. I ended up being pretty happy with the design, but any comments or suggestions are always welcome.

Thirdly, I created a new more professionally oriented blog over at my other domain. The idea will be to focus on literary criticism, rhetoric, and the like. I’ll be posting some papers I’ve written and my thoughts on the subjects. I’m also working on getting some people together to start a new project, in which the wide reading habits of scholars everywhere can input their analyses on whatever books they have read. Using tags and categories, I hope to be able to track thematic situations across genres, epochs, and cultures. It would be an interesting study if I can get the manpower behind it.

I’m going to actually make an attempt to get back into this blogging thing, including picking back up on Twittering and commenting on all of your blogs again, like I used to. Sorry for the impromptu hiatus, but I really needed it.

Cocoon

Inching forward, miserable worm:
         Incapable
                   Insipid
                             Irrelevant.
Wishing for warm cocoon’d escape
         Inch.
                   Inch.
                           Inch.
                                    Inch.
Nibbling leaves, barely surviving
A worm’s life—
life: does a worm deserve such lofty appellations—
         Inch.
                  Inch.
                           Inch.
                                    Inch.
Finding space, cocoon spun,
         Safe!
                  Warm!
                           Metamorphing!
Time has wrought a marvelous change
From worm to beautiful butter—
         Fall.
                  Deranged.
                           Mutant.
Something’s gone wrong.

Burden of Wisdom

I had to write a sonnet for a Shakespeare festival. This is my attempt at it. I hope you like it!

Knowledge is a burden, Wisdom a curse.
Alone I sit with thy infernal words
In veins you course and havoc wreak, like swords
in diabolic plots, the blades which verse

Destined to be buried in men’s live hearts,
And then, our lives to flotsam changed
Adrift in death’s dark sea. Wisdom imparts
Useless thoughts for our now brackish, estranged,

Encumbered souls. The words Wisdom doth speak
Unto the weary dead do sound as a
Folly. ‘E speaks with words of life which wreak
Havoc to we, the freshly dead. Give way

O Wisdom, leave us now to die in peace
Floating here, we sailors find our release.

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