Flogging the Quills

I suppose if I’d actually gotten my act together — or at least, bought a new dress that was worth roughly half my biweekly paycheck –I could have attended what the book industry hopes is an annual faaaaaaabulous awards night, the Quills. But I didn’t, so I’ll have to hear any gossip and scandal tenthhand if I’m lucky.

Then again, as widely reported by the AP’s Hillel Italie last week, it’s not like people care too much who wins or not. And when apathy rules the day, how do you get excited about whether THE DA VINCI CODE trumps THE HISTORIAN, leaving Patricia Cornwell in the dust?

Maybe my own ambivalence stems from attending an awards-night party for Canada’s version of the Big Cheese Literary Awards show, the Gillers. Oh, eating the food and drinking the booze and some light schmoozing was fun, but when it came time to watch the ceremonies, guess what — it was boring. And people took off fifteen minutes in, not really caring that Alice Munro won (yet again.) Where were the slurred speeches? The catfights? And why was everyone dressed so dully? No wonder it wasn’t entertaining.

Of course, that doesn’t mean some folks can’t have some fun. Michael Cader at Publishers Marketplace has put out a call asking people forced to attend tonight’s shindig to report back on how many (if any) of “the 40 distinguished members of the Quills Advisory Council” can be spotted in the audience. And if there’s anything, anything at all, of the behind-the-scenes variety that manages to be of any interest whatsoever, drop us a line. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved for publishing blind items….

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