A Hachette negotiator speaks out; Jennifer Weiner’s take on smiling authors; Gordon Lish at eighty; and other news.
Helen Tartar, the editorial director of Fordham University Press, has died; coffee for making a deal with the devil; Tammany Hall’s good guys; and other news.
A new study reports e-readers may be sharing user information without consent; Victoria Strauss discovered a publicity firm's claims were far removed from reality; Charles Simic reveals his love for silent screen legend Buster Keaton; and other news.
Sadly, recent revelations are forcing readers—confronted by a brand-new band of literary scallywags, hucksters, and hoaxers—to reconsider the veracity of the story as well as that of the storyteller.
Michael Stephen Fuchs doesn't seem particularly naive or susceptible to exploitation. The fast-talking writer has a successful day job as an Internet consultant, peppers his conversation with literary aphorisms, and, like many debut authors, can talk with an eloquence borne from personal experience about the iniquities of the publishing business. But according to some in the book trade, Fuchs has been suckered.