Perigee Bookmarks

Learn Something Every Day

Posted by Meg Leder

Perigee recently published the delightful book Learn Something Every Day. It's a bright, 368-page tome, featuring 365 different tidbits of information you probably didn't already know. Each fact is accompanied by a charming hand-drawn illustration.

To celebrate the book's publication on this blog, the authors Pete and Geth graciously provided us with two reading-related facts, which you'll find below. Perigee blog readers: You are lucky. Today you can learn not just one new thing, but two.

Enjoy!

 

Change Is Afoot in the Great World of Publishing, and This Is Terrifying

Posted by Meg Leder

"If you love books enough, books will love you back."                                                                                                --Jo Walton, Among Others

Lately, I’ve been trying really hard not to get stressed out by the world of publishing.

Example #1: Recently, I was having dinner with a book designer friend who was lamenting the rise of e-readers and what it means for people who cherish books as objects, as well as the designers who meticulously create and lay out these beautiful printed designs. I told her I believe there will always be a market for books as objects, but that the electronic world was potentially opening up the door for even more readers, people who might not ever have picked up a book before, and there was a need for beautiful design in these formats as well. And yeah, the change is scary, but there are potentially really good things coming from all of this change.

Example #2: During this same dinner, a freelance editor friend was asking about Borders, and what their financial difficulties might mean for all of us in publishing—publishers, authors, and readers. I told her that I think there will always be people who want to read, and whether they find their books at Borders or B&N or their local independent bookstore, they will still seek out books. Yeah, the climate is kind of scary, but there are potentially really good things coming from all of this change.

Example #3: The next day, my young adult book club was talking about how much growing up we loved to read Judy Blume books. And someone asked, “Do you think kids will still read Judy Blume, even if she doesn’t talk about texting and the internet and Facebook and whatnot? Will she become outdated?” I said Anne of Green Gables was my favorite book as a kid, and I still related to it, even though I didn’t go to school in a horse-drawn carriage, so yeah, I think readers will respond to Judy Blume books the same way. Sure, the reading world is changing rapidly, but there are potentially really good things coming from these changes. 

During all these talks, I felt brave and confident, bolstered by a belief in the importance of the work we do—that there is an intrinsic human need for books—for stories and instruction—and this need will carry us through this time of change. But honestly, inside, I still felt anxious. Change is unpleasant under even the best of circumstances, and when your livelihood and passion is affected by change, even dictated by it, life feels a bit more daunting.

I recently read a lovely novel called Among Others by Jo Walton. In it, the young narrator, who’s undergone the horrific loss of her twin sister and is confronting the lonely world of boarding school, finds escape and solace in the pages of science fiction and fantasy books. No matter what change is whirling around her, she always has Asimov and LeGuin and Tolkien. Near the end, she writes, “If you love books enough, books will love you back.”

It’s good to hear and remember those words during this time of change. We’re all here—in the publishing world, in bookstores, reading this blog—because we love books. We publish books because we love them, we read books because we love them, we write books because we love them. Even with all of these industry shifts happening around us, those facts aren’t going to change.

And in return, books stimulate our imaginations, they move us to action, they help us solve problems, they entertain us with story. Quite simply, they love us back. Those facts aren’t going to change, either.

So the next time I feel stressed about publishing, I need to remember that whatever the format, whatever the sales venue, whatever the content, readers will always love books. And in return, books will keep loving us.

Making Your Book Stand Out

Posted by Meg Leder

In a few weeks, I’m giving a talk at a writing conference. The subject: How to Make Your Book Stand Out. There are a number of ways I can approach this talk: the ins and outs of crafting an attention-getting proposal; tips for making sure you’re the author your in-house team wants to go the extra mile for; how to self-promote beyond your publicity and marketing team’s efforts; and so on.

But the tip that keeps coming to mind, beyond the etiquette and rules and insider tips? Have a really, really great idea from the get-go. Take, for example, a quirky proposal that landed on my desk in December 2009: Images You Should Not Masturbate To.  

The project came in through the slush, and as most unsolicited manuscripts we receive rarely focus on the subjects we publish (let alone spell our imprint’s name correctly), I wasn’t expecting much. But then I opened the envelope and found a mock-up of the book.

The cover featured a strange old man chopping ice with an axe… while naked. The title was prudish and willfully awkward (it ends with a preposition!), but also intriguing. And the content—a collection of random images, ranging from a dog with wig to hair on a drain to a wrestler named “Chad”—was bizarre, and frankly, kind of awesome. I found myself flipping through the pages, eager to see what would come next.

When I shared the project with my colleagues, their reactions were similar: mild revulsion at the cover image, slightly appalled laughter at the title, and curiosity at the content on the interior pages.

This deceptively simple and deliberately off-putting project was weird and provocative, and like nothing we’d seen before. It made us want to turn the page, even if we cringed the entire time. And so, we made an offer and are now the proud publishers of Images You Should Not Masturbate To.  

This February, if you’re looking for a gift that will truly stand out—something with a cryptic cover, grammatically incorrect title, and strange interior content—you’re in luck. Enjoy!

The Magic of Turkish Delight

Posted by Meg Leder

When I was a kid, I loved to read. I’d stay up late and tear through books, and then spend the next day pretending to be my favorite characters. I imagined my life on the prairie like the Ingalls. I daydreamed about meeting my own Gilbert Blythe, just like Anne Shirley. And to this day, I feel wistful when I open new closets, a part of me still wishing that Narnia and Mr. Tumnus really were on the other side.

While I’m an avid reader today, I’ve lost some of the magic of those early reading experiences—of new worlds opening in such real and immediate ways. I want that magic back.

In Turkish Delight & Treasure Hunts, Jane Brocket has given readers a way to revisit the footsteps of their favorite childhood heroes. A collection of recipes and activities from classic children’s books, the book is so vivid and loving and charming and excited, you know from page one that Jane Brocket is clearly a book-kindred spirit.

Not only is the tone companionable, but while I was editing the book, something magic happened: the characters I loved so much as a child began to stir to life again.

The activity that totally warmed my heart: Making Sugar on Snow, like Laura and Mary Ingalls do in Little House in the Big Woods. I remember reading about that when I was a kid and thinking, Candy from snow? SIGN ME UP! And while it took me more than twenty years, I now know how to do it (and am eagerly waiting for the first big snow in Brooklyn).

Since I’ve read Jane’s book, I’ve also been re-enjoying dark and stormy nights, like Madeline L’Engle’s Murry family. I’ve practiced learning my favorite poem by heart, like Anne Shirley. And I’m gearing up to make some Turkish Delight (There’s rosewater in it!).

To put it simply, Turkish Delight and Treasure Hunts reminds me of all the books I loved as a child, and brings them to life so keenly, it’s like I’m reading them for the first time all over again. The experience is nothing short of magic.

 

Turkish Delight and Treasure Hunts

People Who Deserve It

Posted by Meg Leder

While living in New York City can be a wonderful, diverse, vibrant experience, it also has its challenges. Mainly: All the other people living here.

Take my morning commute: There are the people who push their way through everyone trying to get off the train because they can’t wait to board. There’s the strange woman clipping her fingernails in the subway car. There’s the guy who likes to spread his legs so wide he takes up the width of three seats. And don’t forget the over-the-shoulder nosy reader or the teenager blaring her iPod on such a high volume we all get treated to Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.”

When confronted with these insensitive displays, you can’t do much; the crazy quotient in NYC is so high, you don’t want to risk antagonizing a potentially psychotic subway mate. Instead, you scrunch your way into a sliver of a seat, duck from flying pieces of fingernail, try not to get “Poker Face” stuck in your head, and simmer in silence.

Which is why as soon as I heard about it, I wanted to publish Casey Gordon and Tim Rand’s People Who Deserve It: Socially Responsible Reasons to Punch Someone in the Face.

With razor-sharp observation skills, honed by twenty-some years of living with fellow human beings, Casey and Tim have compiled entries describing some of the most terrible people on the planet: Overly Self-Righteous Vegan, Super Snorer, No Umbrella Etiquette Lady, Obviously Hot Compliment Fisher, and more. They even include non-human entries, and yeah, I agree, E. Coli definitely deserves a punch in the face.

The recognition I felt on reading the book was a relief: I’m not alone in hating Two Spot Parkers or Office Food Thieves! It would be absolutely delightful to throw a right hook in the face of a Passive Aggressive Emoticon User :)! Finally, I had found a safe avenue for my anger, and the reassurance that comes from shared recognition.

So the next time you notice yourself gritting your teeth in barely-contained rage at the quirks, foibles, and flaws of your neighbors, be they in NYC or anywhere else on our fair planet, pick up a copy of People Who Deserve It and imagine giving a quick uppercut to No Cleanup Nail Clipper or Impatient Subway Boarder. It’s a healthy channel for some of that rage, and it won’t land you in jail.

 

People Who Deserve It will be available November 2.

Mad Men

Posted by Meg Leder

Every Sunday evening, I settle down with some snacks on my comfy couch and I turn on AMC’s Mad Men. I love the show—love the costumes, the characters, the angst, the drama. But this season has been tough to watch. I worry that Don isn’t making the best decision when it comes to his love life. I’m concerned for Roger’s well being. I hate the sexual harassment scenes, and I feel as vulnerable and angry as Joan and Peggy when I watch them. And then there’s Sally! Poor Sally Draper!

It’s a stressful hour of television, and an anxious way to round out otherwise calm weekends.

But the darkness of this season is another reason I’ve enjoyed working on Dyna Moe’s Mad Men: The Illustrated World, out this week. In some of our sales copy, we’ve called the book a candy-colored advertisement for the 60s, and the phrase is apt. Everything in the book is bright: a drink menu from Sally Draper, stylish dresses for a Joan paper doll, Roger Sterling’s witty tips for conducting a workday tryst—there’s even a Cuban Missile Crisis Board Game. And while some of the underlying content is dark, the images make me happy, much like a commercial should, and I want to stay in the world of the book.

So during the next few weeks, when the fourth season of Mad Men comes to what will surely be a dramatic and stressful season finale, instead of biting my nails, I may just find myself dressing my Joan paper doll instead.

 

Check out Mad Men: The Illustrated World.

And read more in an interview with the author and illustrator, Dyna Moe.

 

Mad About TV

Posted by Meg Leder

 

I watch a lot of television. In fact, I’m part of a group that gets together expressly to discuss our favorite shows and guilty pleasures.

 

However, this group isn’t something I talk about with just anyone (until of course, now, in this very public blog entry). Why? Most of us are current or former publishing folk, and there’s something unseemly about being addicted to the mindless pleasures of television when you work with the printed word. It’s more fashionable and appropriate to discuss the latest editorial in The New York Times than the season finale craziness of Vampire Diaries. Our group is well-aware of this, and we make sure to meet clandestinely, far away from our offices, in the dark recesses of a grungy bar, where we wear Battlestar Galactica t-shirts and have heated discussions about Cougar Town (good or not?) and the cry-fest-inducing Friday Night Lights.

 

So, you can imagine my immense pleasure when, this past summer, I was finally able to combine my secret shameful love for TV with my job.

 

This October, Perigee is publishing the first licensed book based on Mad Men, the series created by Matt Weiner. The book—Mad Men: The Illustrated World—is the work of the incredibly talented illustrator and writer Dyna Moe. It was a crash book and involved a lot of hard work for all parties, but the result is worth it: it’s candy-colored and catchy, like one of Don Draper’s ads; Dyna’s writing is beautifully witty and wry, like the best of Roger Sterling’s quips; and I’m as excited about its publication as Peggy Olson on her first day as a copywriter. The book was a hectic, exciting, rushed labor of love from day one, but at this point, my love for it and my awe at Dyna’s creative skills equal my love and awe for the show.

 

Not only does the book mark the first publication of an official Mad Men–licensed book, it also marks the first time I can be openly and legitimately passionate about one of my favorite shows in a professional setting. Martinis for everyone!

 

Mad Men: The Illustrated World will be available October 6.

Making a Mess

Posted by Meg Leder

 

As the editor for the marvelous Keri Smith’s wondrous books, you’d think I’d be comfortable with messes. After all, Wreck This Journal is about destruction as a creative act in and of itself. Keri’s new book, Mess, expressly tells readers “Do not try to make something beautiful.” My publisher has his own tattered copy of Wreck This Journal in his office. Numerous friends have shared their own experiences with the book, and various kids in my life have embraced the tearing, smearing, staining, and losing that Keri encourages.

 

Yet, I’ve never started my own copy of any of Keri’s books. What gives?

 

As an editor, my job is to help make beautiful books. Working with a team of incredibly talented and smart colleagues, I work to ensure the message is compelling, the language is clear, the grammar is correct, and the finished book meets Penguin’s high standards.

 

This mindset drives my personal life as well: bookshelves are organized by subject (and of course, alphabetically by authors’ last names!); my to-do list at work is written neatly on lined paper and I relish checking things off; I keep a record of novels I’ve read and songs I want to download; I organize my thirty-six years of life in a two-room apartment. In other words: lists, order, numbering, rows, precision, economy.

 

So while I love Keri’s books (and love Keri), I haven’t jumped into any of the books myself. “Soon,” I say. “Maybe with the next one!,” I offer. “I’m too busy editing, ha ha!,” etc.

 

But that changed with Mess. A few weeks ago, several colleagues and I got together to film a book trailer. We gathered paint, chalk, markers, sticks, peanut butter, toothpaste, binder clips, and more. And we sat down to make a mess.

 

It was, in a word, awesome. We smashed, scattered, scribbled, and smeared. We came away with chalk and peanut butter under our fingernails, and Sharpies stains on our palms. But dang, it was fun!

 

A few days later, I started messing with my own copy of Mess, ostensibly to share with the Keri Smith community, but really because I had a craving to do it.  

 

As an editor, there’s a value to order and grammatical correctness. But there’s also a value in seeing beyond the margins of my carefully numbered list, in seeing what happens when I make my nervous inner editor step aside. I have Keri to thank for that.

 

The results are messy. But they’re beautiful.

 

-----

Watch the video and join Penguin's Keri Smith community here.

And check out Keri's books below!

Wreck This Journal

 

 

 

 

 

Mess

 

 

 

 

 

This Is Not a Book

 

 

 

 

 

How to Be an Explorer of the World

Making Toys

Posted by Meg Leder

 

Last summer, I spent a delightful few weeks editing Heather Swain’s Make These Toys. The book is a charming collection of toy projects you can make using simple household items—cardboard tubes, clothes pins, mailers, balloons. Heather’s premise? Sometimes fun isn’t in the box—sometimes it’s the box itself.

 

And that got me thinking about boxes. I remember as a child when my grandparents ordered a new washer and dryer. They kept the two giant boxes in the basement, and let my brother Steven and I each have one. My grandpa helped us cut out flap-windows. My grandma gave us some fabric squares to tape up for curtains. We decorated the outsides using markers—drawing bricks and gardens and embellishing the shutters. I adored the houses, and remember the experience as fondly, if not even more, than playing with my Barbie Townhouse.

 

Last July, Heather’s manuscript started me thinking about boxes again. I read the section on cardboard box projects—big box shoes, a collapsible playhouse, a castle with a drawbridge—and earmarked a few. And when I flew to Cincinnati to visit my then five-year-old niece, Clara, I was ready for some inspired Make These Toys crafting.

 

At the time, Clara had just discovered Barbies and was pretty much smitten with her Barbie Dream House. But we sat down one evening with a shoebox and some clothespins, scissors, glue, glitter, markers—a whole plethora of cool supplies. And we made a fairy house, based on Heather’s castle project. There was a drawbridge, a mirror made of aluminum foil, a stool made of a spool. And of course, fairy inhabitants, like the clothes pin dolls from Heather’s book.

 

Clara was in awe. Carefully holding the project, she told me, “Aunt Meg, now I’ll have something to remember you with forever!” As I’m not planning on going anywhere soon, I hope I can bestow her with a few other cool memories in the upcoming years. But for now, I’ll settle for what my grandparents taught me and what Heather so brilliantly reminds us of in Make These Toys: boxes can make the best toys of all, better than even Barbie. 

 

Make These Toys goes on sale July 6.

Finding Your Own Artist in the Office

Posted by Meg Leder

 

Whenever people ask me what types of books I want to acquire, I answer, “Books I like. I’m selfish that way.” I don’t mean to be flip, but there’s an element of truth there. The proposals that get my attention are books I want to own myself, that speak to something I’m personally interested in, that get me so excited about what I’m reading that I can’t stop talking about them—which is why working with my colleague Maria on Summer Pierre’s The Artist in the Office has been, quite frankly, a really cool process.

 

Summer is a writer, artist, and musician who believes that you don’t have to save your creative pursuits for after 5:00pm or the weekend. Instead, she believes in integrating the work you have to do, with the work you want to do, right now--not five minutes later, not five years down the line, but this very second. And then she gives you small steps you can take to make those big differences in your creative life.

 

And to demonstrate how I selfishly love the books I edit, I will tell you the following:

 

• Thanks to Summer, I now make sure I take at least one lunch hour during the week to do some writing of my own.
• When I start to doubt my writing (or even my editing, which I also consider creative work), I remind myself that these nagging voices are part of the process. (And as Summer suggests, when those insecurities emerge, I yell to myself, “Part of the process! Part of the process!” and move on.)
• I’ve started thinking about money differently, making sure that it goes to simple, empowering things that’ll get my blood stirring--pilates classes or books I want to read.
• Next to my computer screen, at eye level, I’ve put up my favorite photo of Costa Rica to remind myself there are more views in life than the email inbox in front of me.
• And there are at least ten pages in the book I come back to time and time again when I need a little refueling and inspiration. (“Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” –Andy Warhol)

The Artist in the Office reminds me of why I like to be an editor—words on the page can move you. In this case, Summer’s have moved me to think and act differently, which is no small thing. And for that, I am selfishly grateful.

 

 

 

The Artist in the Office is on sale now.