Really Read the Back Cover!
Really Read the Back Cover!
(and maybe take a peek inside?)
Working a book table at the Horror Con this weekend reminded me of an incident last year at the Comic Con.
The aisles were crowded with a slow-moving glacier of humanity. I was on my tired feet behind the table and a pile of our books.
A woman, arms full of books I assume she purchased, came swept along by the river of con-going humanity, pause by our table and picked up one of my books, The Queen’s Pawn. She glanced at the back cover, glared at me, snarled “Another male chauvinist has to rescue the poor woman,” set it back down, and hurried off before I had a chance to say anything.
For example, if she’d turned the book over, the cover reads “The Queen’s Pawn.” In my personal definition of a pawn, I do not come across the image of someone in control of the board. Who would I think was in charge after reading that title?
The complete blurb on the back cover reads as follows:
“On his way to study for the priesthood; Harrow is mistaken for a bold and infamous duke. Instead of study, he finds himself thrust into action to rescue a beautiful queen and her spoiled daughter as they flee the city. Now a rebel army is hot on their heels and Harrow must keep his wits about him as he leads the small group of survivors to safety.”
Okay, maybe she could have gotten the wrong impression from reading that. If the reader had taken a moment to stop and engage me in conversation, I could have pointed out that, yes, the queen really was the one in charge, and my poor bumbling hero was just carried off by the events. I heaped abuse on him for 260 pages while the women in his life ran roughshod over him. Even his borrowed horse abuses him.
Some hero. He has never held a sword and wouldn’t have a clue on how to use one if he did. I had great fun writing a reverse-role setup, where several women tried to drag him into bed while he struggled to escape. I thought the set-up was amusing. The women held all the power and often laid out the best plans.
If there is a moral to this sad essay, it is this. If you have the author standing in front of you, and have the desire to chastise his choice of subject, please allow him the courtesy of being able to open his mouth in defense.
I rest my case, your honour.
(and maybe take a peek inside?)
Working a book table at the Horror Con this weekend reminded me of an incident last year at the Comic Con.
The aisles were crowded with a slow-moving glacier of humanity. I was on my tired feet behind the table and a pile of our books.
A woman, arms full of books I assume she purchased, came swept along by the river of con-going humanity, pause by our table and picked up one of my books, The Queen’s Pawn. She glanced at the back cover, glared at me, snarled “Another male chauvinist has to rescue the poor woman,” set it back down, and hurried off before I had a chance to say anything.
For example, if she’d turned the book over, the cover reads “The Queen’s Pawn.” In my personal definition of a pawn, I do not come across the image of someone in control of the board. Who would I think was in charge after reading that title?
The complete blurb on the back cover reads as follows:
“On his way to study for the priesthood; Harrow is mistaken for a bold and infamous duke. Instead of study, he finds himself thrust into action to rescue a beautiful queen and her spoiled daughter as they flee the city. Now a rebel army is hot on their heels and Harrow must keep his wits about him as he leads the small group of survivors to safety.”
Okay, maybe she could have gotten the wrong impression from reading that. If the reader had taken a moment to stop and engage me in conversation, I could have pointed out that, yes, the queen really was the one in charge, and my poor bumbling hero was just carried off by the events. I heaped abuse on him for 260 pages while the women in his life ran roughshod over him. Even his borrowed horse abuses him.
Some hero. He has never held a sword and wouldn’t have a clue on how to use one if he did. I had great fun writing a reverse-role setup, where several women tried to drag him into bed while he struggled to escape. I thought the set-up was amusing. The women held all the power and often laid out the best plans.
If there is a moral to this sad essay, it is this. If you have the author standing in front of you, and have the desire to chastise his choice of subject, please allow him the courtesy of being able to open his mouth in defense.
I rest my case, your honour.
No comments have been added yet.
