Even more everyonewhosanyone

Gerard Jones has announced the second edition of his directory, Everyone whosanyone.com, which now contains more than 2,000 literary agents and editors in the US, Canada and the UK. It is, as I reported in my Notes of 29th November last year, more than a listing: it is also a subversive record of people's responses to his approaches, and a somewhat poignant chronicle of Mr Jones' heroic efforts to sell his work.

Mr Jones has written a novel first titled Oprah Wimfree and the Mayonnaise Man, and then retitled Astral Weekend. Several US editors and agents balk at a work that is irreverent about Ms Winfrey, while here in London, Betty Schwartz at Hodder describes it as "a bit too weird". Mitch Douglas at ICM writes: "The choppy sentences and fragments drive me nuts"; to which Mr Jones replies: "Call me Ishmael. Jesus wept. Mistah Kurtz—he dead. I have no doubt that incalculable numbers of people have been and continue to be locked away in institutions for the incurably insane as a result of having been subjected to choppy sentences and fragments."

Richard Balkin at The Balkin Agency also feels that the novel is not for him: "I am sorry to have to turn down your prizewinner; I am busy making a living selling schlock and so I can't afford to take on excellent writers like you."



Mr Jones enjoys Mr Balkin's response; but he also exposes on his site his reactions to people who he feels have treated him discourteously. "That's a pretty insulting letter regarding Al Zuckerman that you've posted on your site!" Mr Zuckerman's assistant remonstrates. "I thought it was sort of funny myself," Mr Jones replies.

Then there's Warren Frazier, of John Hawkins & Associates, to which Mr Jones sends his manuscript. Later, he requests its return. After that: "Hey, Warren, doesn't it bother you at all to simply ignore civil questions?" Later still: "Hey, Warren, it just dawned on me what a total . . ." I'll let you read the rest yourself.



There is, however, some positive news to report about Mr Jones: he has found an agent, and a publisher. Both are newcomers: Laura Strachan of the Strachan Literary Agency, and the Monkfish Book Publishing Company, a "new spiritual and literary publisher" which brings out its first titles this autumn. Monkfish has Mr Jones' Ginny Good, about West Coast hippydom in the 1960s and '70s, on its spring 2004 list.



Speed dating is such a very "now" concept that I am delighted to see Midas PR picking up on the idea as a publicity tool. In the interests of launching Hamlyn's new list of very colourful and user-friendly self-help guides, Midas' Amelia Webb last week lined up the first six authors—two life coaches, a psychologist, a psychic, a body language expert and a management trainer—to impart their wisdom to groups of assembled journalists in intense 15-minute bursts, just like the dating game.

First we learned from Dr Jo Iddon (Memory Booster Workout) how to get our faculties working properly—"I gave up alcohol while writing the book and it made a huge difference to my memory"; then Martin Perry (Confidence Booster Workout) explained how adjusting your mental outlook can improve your golf; Peter Clayton (Body Language at Work) gave us a few clues about how to pick up on hidden emotions in the boardroom—and, for the politically inclined, how to spot lies told in the House of Commons; Paul Roland (How Psychic Are You?) described his own out-of-body experiences; Ann Jackman (How To Get Things Done) admitted that she procrastinated but told us how not to; and Pam Richardson (The Life Coach) explained that the key to her profession was recognising that we ourselves really know all the answers.

Thoroughly mentally toned and emotionally boosted in just an hour and a half, we went on our way. This speed dating lark is really rather fun.



Ted L Nancy is an American Henry Root: a sender of bizarre correspondence, to which he receives many gratifyingly po-faced replies. His Letters from a Nut, with Jerry Seinfeld credited as "translator", comes from Ebury in October, and he is promoting it with letters to various booksellers. Here is the one Ottakar's has received.

"Dear Book Buyer, I am publishing a book. It is mainly letters (some stains). Will it work in England? I think you invented books so it should work. It has a barcode. I have the number.

"My friend Jerry Seinfeld (from TV) likes my letters (most). It should sell a lot of copies. Please put it near the front of your shop (not too near—thieves!)

"I like Ottakar's, got lost in Waterstone's (carpet too dark) and strained my groin in Borders (shelf too high). I will be outside your store on 2nd October to sign (my books only—definite), please make the agreed arrangements for my stool (two bags).

Best wishes and excited,

Ted L Nancy



Desmond Elliott, who died last week (see obituary, page 14), was a good friend of the Organ and this column. He last appeared in my Notes to record his alarm to discover, on a flight from Key West to Miami, that his pilot was one "Captain Jeffrey Archer", and a few months ago he reported in our letters column Michael Joseph's view of why people bought books ("because they want them", the great man averred).

In 1998, I noted the celebrations of Mr Elliott's 50 years in publishing. In his speech, he recalled how he had left Macmillan after upsetting the Sitwells with his description of their works as "Sitwelliana", only to move to Hutchinson, ruled by the fearsome and unstable Walter Hutchinson. Walter, who fired people routinely, fired Mr Elliott several times; on one occasion, Mr Elliott confided what had happened to Mrs Webb, who effectively ran the firm. "Really?" she replied. "I didn't know he was in the building."

Mr Elliott, like many effective book people, was dictatorial. He kept a printed notice in his bathroom bearing the legend, "The three greatest tyrants of the 20th century: Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin and Desmond Elliott." But unlike many tyrants—Walter Hutchinson, for example—he inspired affection and respect.

Horace Bent

bent@bookseller.co.uk