Sunday, June 21, 2009

To the book signing! Or perhaps not...

I'm not sure about local book signings. On the one hand, you get a chance to meet fine folk who like you. Or the idea of you. Or the idea of your book. On the other hand, nobody may turn up. Or even worse, you can have competitive book signings with other authors, at festivals, where you're constantly assessing whether their queue is bigger than your queue...or worrying about the facft they have a queue and you don't...

My two hours at The Shetland Times was pleasant, as various folk I know and don't know bought books and chatted. Interestingly for the theme of Serpentine, it was Armed Foces Day, and a military band was marching outside, providing a suitably brassy soundtrack to Murricane and Flaws' torrid adventures.

But not everyone wants a signed book, and not everyone who wants one wants to actually meet the author. I had a pile of advance requests to sign, and a number of my friends locally had already bought the book and had no desire to see me deface it. They just wanted to read it.

Linda Glanville was in the Peerie shop Cafe, and had bought a copy of Serpentine when it first came out. No signature necessary. She's one of the biggest crime thriller aficianada I've ever met, and to whom I will be forever grateful for, a few years ago, lending me copies of the then-rare Maj Sjowall and Per Wahloo Beck books. Not only did she enjoy Serpentine, she was even able to read the violent bits she normally avoids in other such tomes. "Except the bit about the seagulls."

Yes, that seagull bit is a tad...extreme. But then, I told her, if she thinks that's bad, she should try The Ossians by Doug Johnstone. It's a seagull slasher novel! Or crusher...

1 comment:

Rachel Fox said...

It is a bit odd this obsession with book signings (and bands offering to sign cds...you feel rude if you say, no thanks!). It's one thing when there is a real demand and a crowd of crazed fans (like kids around Jacqueline Wilson...) but one of the saddest sights, I'm sure, is some poor not-very-well-known author sat in a Borders somewhere with a pile of books on a Saturday afternoon...and no queue whatsoever. You feel like giving them loose change.
x