The Maris Review, vol 30

How can publishers possibly protect authors, librarians, booksellers, and teachers from hate, from vilification, from criminalization, while simultaneously publishing the architects of such plans?

What I read this week

There's Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension by Hanif Abdurraqib

It was a good week for reading prose that made me (sorta/kinda) forget the rest of the world. Hanif Abdurraqib can write about anything and make it sound like the most beautiful and profound subject ever, and his memoir centered around basketball is no different. In There’s Always This Year he parallels his own experiences growing up on the neighborhood courts in Columbus, Ohio while watching LeBron James ascend to superstardom.

One of my favorite parts of the book is when I was reminded how devastating Abdurraqib is as a music critic. His analysis of the genre of “don’t leave me” begging breakup songs is thorough and passion-filled, and he does it all in order to get to discussing a 2010 song sung by a collection of Ohio media personalities called “We Are LeBron,” to the tune of that other song sung by superstars about Africa. It’s perfect.

I say this as someone who vaguely looks up at the TV when her husband is on the couch sweating it out while watching his beloved Celtics win and lose: it doesn’t matter if you’re a fan or not. This book is for anyone with a soul.

The Sequel by Jean Hanff Korelitz

It’s a cliche for a reason that sequels are never as good as the original, but at least Jean Hanff Korelitz seems very much aware of that fact in her continuation of the story she began in The Plot. In the sequel the villain of the first book becomes the protagonist, and frankly, I was happier for this person to remain mysterious, not to know too much about them and what made them how they are. However, just like The Plot, the pacing of The Sequel is propulsive, and the literary references she name checks, from specific indie bookstores to festivals and publications are a delight.

OK, so, I’ll be brief

I don’t think there is just one reason why Trump won: people hate women, people are racist and xenophobic, people only care about themselves, or, more specifically, people only care about money. But the misinformation and disinformation of the Trump campaign had to play a big part. Yes, this is something I’ve been ranting about for a long while, and it looks like I will have to continue with the ranting.

I look to the media outlets, particularly the book publishers because that’s who I am, who legitimized Trump and other Republicans, who sane-wash him and give equal time to both sides when one side has got bad faith dripping down their temples like Rudy Giuliani’s hair dye that one time. Enough of this nonsense.

I understand that book publishing is a capitalist enterprise, you’ve gotta sell some shit to the almost 50% of the country that voted in favor of mass deportations and book bans and the decimation of LBTQ+ rights.

To the publishing community doubling down on conservative imprints, I say: stop pretending you’re liberals. You’re as bad as the rest of them. Publishing “authors” who actively want to harm marginalized groups of people that include fellow authors, book workers, and readers, is both bad business and blatantly fascist. How can publishers possibly protect authors and librarians and booksellers and teachers from hate, from vilification, from criminalization, while simultaneously publishing the architects of such plans?

If you’re an author and you’d like to join Authors Against Book Bans, click here. If you’re a publishing professional who would like to get involved, stay tuned or shoot me a note.

Now I’m gonna take a nice deep breath and read some wisdom from beloved Alex Chee, who is always right.

New releases, 11/12

The Burrow by Melanie Cheng

Heartbreak Is the National Anthem: How Taylor Swift Reinvented Pop Music by Rob Sheffield

The Abandoners: On Mothers and Monsters by Begoña Gómez Urzaiz, translated by Lizzie Davis

Didion & Babitz by Lili Anolik

Lazarus Man by Richard Price

As I wrote last week:

Fast-paced and utterly absorbing as all Richard Price fiction tends to be, Lazarus Man is perfect for burying your head and avoiding hot takes about the Presidential election on Twitter. But it publishes on November 12, which doesn’t do you much good now, so I’m sorry (if you’re thinking about pre-ordering, you won’t regret it). There are too many authors out there today who write fiction as if they were writing a script, so intent on getting that book-to-film deal that they brush past the book part. Price never does. He has an ear for dialog that is just about unparalleled, capturing a variety of different voices from many walks of life, this time centered around the collapse of a five-story residential building and its aftermath. There’s no crime at the center of the novel, per se, but tell that to the book’s pacing, which whips by as if there was a killer to catch.