Here’s a quick peek at the first two chapters of The Net Present Value of Life.
February 12, 2010
A sneak preview
February 9, 2010
A reason to believe
Like any author, I’d like you to read my book. Like any reader, you’ve got a decision to make—deciding whether the book’s worth the investment. If not in dollars, certainly in time.
A book is a gamble, isn’t it? Choose wrong and a reader feels cheated, expending time and effort in a failed venture, a doomed relationship… The characters render phoney, the plot’s wooden, and the overall experience just plain unfortunate.
But that’s the downside, and I prefer—for obvious reasons—to envision the opposite.
I’ve read a number of great books by unknown authors (well, at least, at the time, unknown to me), John Nichols’ The Sterile Cuckoo, Vincent Patrick’s Pope of Greenwich Village and James Kirkwood’s P.S. Your Cat is Dead are just three examples.
(And in case you’re thinking, “The nerve of this guy, comparing himself with those authors,” well forgive me, but I’m doing nothing of the sort. I’m simply trying to capture an emotion, describe a feeling—a memory—that stays with me still).
What I mean to say is, I love the euphoria of reading someone I never met deliver something I never expected. And I love when a new (new to me, remember) and unknown author’s work resonates for weeks after that last page is turned. For inexplicable, and, perhaps, unimportant, reasons, it fills me with pride, reading something like that. It’s almost as though I discovered the author all on my own. And I can’t wait to tell everyone I know about my successful discovery—Miguel Syjuco’s Ilustrado, by the way, is having that very effect on me right now.
What’s odd, however, is, as much as I always remember the excitement of reading an undiscovered gem, what I can never recall—the event too cloudy, the memory too faded away, worse than an old photograph—is what led me to buy it in the first place.
Was it the book’s cover? The title? Its placement on a store’s bookshelf? Or was it simply a hunch—that indescribable, unfathomable, gut feeling that every so often steers us all in the right direction?
I don’t remember, but I wish I did.
Because now, all these years later, it might have been important.
Because now, as I said in my first sentence, I’d like you to read my book. And maybe now, if I could somehow capture what led me to take a chance on any of those unknown writers, I could then fashion an analogy in order to, perhaps, inspire you to buy this unknown author’s unknown novel.
And so, and so, and so.
Here we are, once more, at the beginning.
You’re looking for a book, and I’m looking for a reader.
Hey, what the hay…. Why not take a chance?
February 6, 2010
Another smile on my face
It’s different things for different people.
It’s often different things for me too.
But this morning, it was this review, that I picked up off the Chapters Indigo website.
It truly did put a smile on my face.
A reader's review
February 3, 2010
What’s it about anyway?
In yesterday’s post, I mentioned being asked why I wrote The Net Present Value of Life.
However, the question I hear more regularly is, “What’s the book about?”
A simple enough question, of course. But one that I, somehow, find curious—and troubling.
Maybe it’s because I’m not a pro at these types of things, but I often find myself stumbling and balking, and having difficulty in providing a succinct, to-the-point response—what the experts call my elevator speech.
And it’s doubly difficult if my intention is to be, not only, succinct but interesting too.
But the question always comes up, “What’s the book about?”
A simple question, yes. But I over-think it, and end up wondering…
Should I be literal and tell the story about a frustrated, disillusioned 40 year-old businessman and the much older, not to mention infinitely wiser, Englishwoman who befriends him?
Should I be editorial and provide a verbal synopsis, complete with plot, characterization, conflict and resolution?
Or should I be philosophical and talk about the book’s attempt to reframe society’s perception of success, purpose, happiness—not to mention the book’s views on business, money and retirement?
I mean, what does it mean when someone asks, “So, what’s the book about?”
And how do I answer that in less than 30 seconds, without boring the questioner to tears?
Acchh, this writing gig is not as easy as it looks…
I need practice. Lots of it, probably.
And so, if you don’t mind, allow me a few passes at the question…
Q: “What’s the book about?”
A: The book describes a frustrated man, forty-two, who’s fed up with his job, regrets his career choice, and wants to find his true calling. He; however, doesn’t really know what his true calling is and, even if he knew that, he‘d still have no clue where to begin. One day he meets a woman who gives him the answers he needs. The only thing is he doesn’t like her answers (they conflict with his hard-coded business-biased principles and beliefs). And, to make it worse, he soon discovers that this enigmatic Englishwoman has an even more mysterious past. Who the hell is she anyway?
How’s that sound? Great? A little compelling? Total yawn?
Let me try again.
Q: “What’s the book about?”
A: The book is an entertaining allegory about careers, business and life in the 21st century. It describes a host of off-beat characters, including a a mysterious Englishwoman, a frustrated businessman, a brown-nosing coworker and a greedy, corrupt corporate wheeler-dealer. On one level, then, the book makes for an absorbing—even funny—read. On another level though, it calls into question—and subjects to scrutiny—all those premises that we in western society accept as true. Beliefs about careers, purpose, money, retirement and, of course, the key to a happy life.
How about that? Does that draw you in?
Alright then, one more time…
Q: “What’s the book about?”
A: Oh man, it’s great. You’ll love it, especially if you have to work for a living. You should buy it. It’s great!
Well, that last one, at least, was succinct…
