Anna Karenina Vs. a 9 Year Old

Thank you to everyone who came to the September readings for How to Get Into Our House and Where We Keep the Money. It's hugely reassuring to look up and see a friendly face in the crowd (yes, I'm using "crowd" loosely, but... technically three's a crowd). I imagine that, like me, most writers started out as obsessive readers eager to escape into another world, shy little bookworms who trembled when a beautiful sentence made steady eye contact with them from across the room. 

There are still more book events to come—Portland (Maine), the Bowery in NYC, Richmond, Philadelphia, LA, Portland (Oregon), and Palm Desert—so for those of you interested, here's a hastily designed postcard with dates and locations. 

And Now a Confession

One thing I've found myself doing since the book came out a few weeks ago is compulsively checking for new Amazon and Goodreads reviews of my books. I realize, of course, that this is a terrible habit. But it's very hard to break.

Following the principle that it's easier to shift or replace a behavior than it it is to wholly arrest it, I started reading the reviews of other books. I soon noticed that most Amazon book reviews could be classified into of the following four types: 

1. "The Mansplainer" — Long unsolicited synopsis

2. "Calm Down, Mom" — Ecstatic, hyperbolic praise

3. "Goldilocks" — Brief but thoughtful consideration

4. "Irrelevant" — Unrelated complaints (Ex: "I ordered Moby Dick two weeks ago so WHERE are my goddamn AA batteries??")

This insight led me to search out the classics, curious to see if the pattern held there. (It did). It also led me to a few memorable one-star reviews of some of the great works of literature, which I've shared with you below.

Thanks for taking the time to read my little newsletter. Have a great October—looking forward to catching up again next month.

Yours,
Panio

P.S. To sign up for my monthly newsletter, click here. Or here. Wherever. (Wait, not here)

Sorry, Arthur Miller. This dog only loves novelists.

---

9 Things I've Been Called That Aren't My Name

On Tuesday, September 5th, my short story collection, How to Get Into Our House and Where We Keep the Money, hits bookstores. I’m thrilled that the big day has almost arrived, and would like to thank all of you for your early support!  

In anticipation of the launch date, I had initially prepared a list of things to share with you—the starred Kirkus book review, a list of upcoming readings (including one with my wife, the amazing Molly Ringwald, at the also-amazing Brookyln indie bookstore, Books Are Magic), and the definition of the rhetorical device, apophasis—but as I started cutting and pasting self-congratulatory clips, my eyes quickly glazed over.  

Instead, I’m sharing a list of names that I’ve been called that are not Panio. My name is so often mangled that a while back, I began writing down the most memorable ones.

This inadvertent gamification (I'm using the term loosely, but bear with me) has made me look forward to awkward introductions, whereas before I vaguely dreaded them. Now, going up to the Starbucks counter or talking to a stranger at a noisy cocktail party is a chance to be misunderstood in a novel, even reassuring way.

Thank you again for pre-ordering How to Get Into Our House and Where We Keep the Money! (If you haven't had the chance yet, here's a link). 

I hope, when it appears at your doorstep next week, a few of you will pick it up, rip open the packaging, and eagerly thrust your faces into its pages, burying your nose in the book as you breathe in that exquisite, papery scent of restrained narrative ecstasy.

The rest of you can just read it like normal people [*sigh].
 
Yours,
Panio

To sign up for my monthly newsletter, click here. Or here. Wherever. (Wait, not here)