February 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
The New New Yorker
by Courtney Hilden
When the first shipment of a new book comes in, there’s something exciting about it. Everyone gathers in one of the offices. The box gets opened, and everyone gets a copy each in their hands. And we start flipping through it, and we start talking about it. We’re book people: we love what we do; we love books, especially our books.
This book is interesting to me because we publish books for book people, not books for people who dislike reading. This book had a shiny cover, which vaguely reminded me of magazine covers. It had a beautiful, bizarre painting on it. It looked like a historical fiction novel. If I saw it on a shelf in a bookstore, I would pick it up immediately.
Other people commented on the type of paper we used, what the book smelled like. The usual things you’d hear from book people. And then that was it. Celebration over. Time to get back to working on other books that are coming out soon. Time to write up promotional material. Time to get reading submissions to see if, in a year from now, they’d be books we pull out of a box, smelling the inside, admiring the cover art, talking shop and feeling relieved.