Just My Typo - a sneak peak*

*All typos in this piece are included on porpoise. As far as I'm aware.

It was phenomenally exiting to receive a snazzy little taster of Sceptre's forthcoming book Just My Typo, compiled by Drummond Moir (find him on Twitter here). The girlfriend of a design, typography and font fiend (the delightful Benedict tweets here) I was already familiar with the fabulous tome Just My Type, which seems to have inspired this new tittle.

The short preview that I received presents a variety of typos and miscommunications in a fun and accessible way. Diverse areas are covered, including authors' typos (Large Hardon Collider, eek!), kids' typos, 'My Favourite Typo' features and the future of the typo - yes, mispelled words will rein supreme as long as written words exist. Drummond has done well to bring a libary of typos together in one centralised repository for instant amusement, entertainment and a sense of 'at least that wasn't me' in the minds of bookish folks everywhere.

I work in publishing, pacifically in the editorial department of Osprey Publishing. The fear of typos and the horror of their inevitable existence can sometimes be too much to bare, which is one of the main reasons I am so pleased to get an advance preview of this book. It will shorely unify editors everywhere and be a source of comfort and reassurance when we accidentally send the word 'pubic' instead of 'public' to print. Sceptre and Drummond, you are doing a great service to editors. This book will probably be like therapy.

There is no doubt that Just My Typo will do well - it will be brought for pedants, writers and publishers, and together we will smirk and cringe.

Will I buy it? Yes, but I will wait until January when everyone I know has had the chance to buy it for me as a Christmas present first.

BookMachine Oxford was fun, wasn't it!

A few days have passed since Oxford’s inaugural BookMachine shindig. It was a night that, as one of the hosts (along with my buddy Emily, BookMachine’s Laura and Gavin, and Osprey Group’s CEO), I was really excited about. The event was a resounding success, so much so that it took a while for my mind to stop buzzing about the whole thing. (No, that wasn’t just the Mangotinis.)

The most important part of my blog post today is this: a massive thank you to every single person that came along. You were all really nice, and if I didn’t get to speak to you this time I can’t wait to do so at the next party.

Over the past couple of days I have been mulling over what I think made the event worthy of all the lovely feedback that has been received by us all. Here goes my post-match analysis (ironically being typed during the final of Euro 2012).

1)    The idea, input, support and experience of Laura and Gavin are all vital to BookMachine parties. No Laura and Gavin, no shindig.

Which leads neatly on to the next point:

2)    BookMachine showcases the interesting and entertaining aspects of publishing to those in the industry. People want to read what BookMachine flags up, and flagging up is one of the things BookMachine does best. Publishing folk + BookMachine tweets = happiness.

Talking of happiness…

3)    Oxford is a nice place full of nice people. Oxford also has lots of publishing companies. Therefore Oxford is full of nice people that work in publishing.

Nice people are completely fine as they are. So:

4)    Our only plan was for people to come along, drink and chat. No speeches. No gimmick. No theme. Even the name labels were optional.

This simplicity was on the recommendation of Laura and Gavin. So to complete the circle:

5)    Return to point 1.

Thanks again!

BookMachine comes to Oxford

A few weeks ago the very hard-working CEO of our company, Rebecca Smart, walked up to the editorial part of the office and asked me and my wonderful friend Emily if we’d be interested in helping to arrange a publishing network event on behalf of BookMachine. Assured it was just a matter of finding a venue and arranging a date, we happily agreed despite our sizeable workloads. Within a matter of days we had our venue (All Bar One on the High St) and the date (Thursday 28 June from 5.30) sorted.

The publicity that has since been pouring out on Twitter has been remarkable. The dedication of Laura at BookMachine is impressive, we’ve all been retweeting and promoting enthusiastically, and Emily and I – now referred to as the “hosts” of Oxford’s first-ever BookMachine shindig – have even been interviewed for the occasion (check us out on the BookMachine website). Emily sounds more corporate and professional than I do, but in her words, “I’d rather be friends with you!”

In short, what started as a brief request from our CEO has blossomed into a fun and exciting challenge, and I cannot wait to see how it turns out. Writing this an hour and a half before England’s quarter-final match against Italy I can’t help but think that the event’s success – scheduled for the night of our semi-final if we win – might be dependent on that of the English football team tonight. But either way I think we will get a great turnout, with over 50 registered attendees already, and it will be a superb chance to network and meet a whole range of Oxford publishing types. If you’re reading this, work in publishing, and want to come along for a Mangotini, click here: http://bookmachine-oxford.eventbrite.com/

Added bonus: I’ve bought a nice new smart frock. Feel free to compliment me on it on Thursday (insincere compliments welcome too).

That old chestnut: print vs digital. A comparison of two books.

At the moment I am doing something that (for me) almost always ends in failure: I am reading two books at once. Usually this means that one gets lost along the way through no fault of its own (apologies to volumes including Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy; The Age of Innocence; Angela's Ashes - I will revisit you all one day).

However, huzzah, I seem to be doing quite well at simultaneous reading at the moment! An absolute gem of a book that I adore with every cell in my body is The Etymologicon by the downright hilarious Mark Forsyth (aka The Inky Fool). It appeals to many sides of me: the word nerd, the appreciator/generator of terrible puns, the history fan and the person who likes pretty things (I daren't use the word aesthete, that sounds very grand). I mean, look at it. Just bask in its beautiful, red and gold hardback goodness. It is a thing of pure, unequalled joy. And I shall ALWAYS have room for it on my bookshelf. I love reading it, but because of its all-encompassing awesomeness I only dip into it when I'm the best mood for it, so that I don't underappreciate a moment. This book works exactly how it is - the format, presentation, writing and overall package is utterly right.

So what is on the other side of this successful co-reading coin? To be honest, it couldn't be more different. I am well and truly stuck into an ebook that I downloaded for free - who doesn't love a freebie? It's The Assassins' Village by Faith Mortimer. (Get it here, unfortunately not free at the time of blogging: http://amzn.to/xUEmos) This appeals to my secret, middle-aged alter-ego. I love a good murder mystery, and this one is a perfectly pleasant Cyprus-based whodunnit. However, if I had a physical version of the book I doubt I'd be enjoying it so much. I read this book when I'm curled up in bed with my kindle - a device that I was sceptical of at its creation but that is one of my most prized possessions (try them, they are remarkable). The Assassins' Village is exactly the kind of book to get stuck into on an ereader, It is easy to read and provides a good escape when you want hibernate. A major perk of ereaders with E Ink displays is that they are remarkably relaxing to read. Several times I have fallen asleep reading The Assassins' Village - not in any way as a result of the book itself - but purely that the method of reading is so calming.

So I will continue on my merry way with these two books, dipping into The Etymologicon when I am near an espresso machine or twirling my hair outside in the garden, and ploughing through The Assassins' Village when I want to have a murder mystery holiday daydream to Cyprus at the end of a long day in the office.

Give them both a try, won't you?

Reviews: ‘The Birth of Venus’ by Sarah Dunant and ‘Perfume’ by Patrick Süskind

I read two books recently that I thought perfect blog fodder for their own qualities and strengths. Neither of them were books I knew much about; having decided to read the book on the recommendation of others, I didn't so much as read the blurbs. In both cases I experienced a severe bout of misjudging a book by its cover.

Firstly I misjudged ‘The Birth of Venus’ - a book with a beautiful cover that seems to resonate with classical feeling and that instilled a sense of gravity and good manners in me. I was expecting to mind my Ps and Qs, not try and hide the sexy scenes from fellow passengers on an aeroplane - the sex, passion and vibrancy that lay within were a surprise but of course, aside from the beautiful art and classical imagery, Medici Florence bubbled with whole swathes of very real, loving, feeling, diverse and flawed people. The characters are well crafted, and I particularly liked the comparison of artistic Alessandra with her siblings, none of whom seem to have much in common, as well as her husband Cristoforo. The relationships portrayed are strong, if not always conventional to their peers, and made me value the degree of freedom that we have in modern European society - NOT something I was anticipating from this volume. I do hate giving too much plot away on blogs, but I adored the drawn out nature of Alessandra and the Painter's longing, and was so hopeful for a happily-ever-after tale, despite the fact that it's just not a happily-ever-after book. In short, one of my very best friends bought it for me, impressing upon me that it is her favourite ever book, and I can completely see why. Florence comes alive in this book and Sarah Dunant throws her readers into the midst of it all, providing a sumptuous and moreish experience. I heartily recommend it – ‘The Birth of Venus’ is probably more of a book for girls, but it is completely readable and simply wonderful.

The second book whose cover I misjudged was ‘Perfume’. The mysterious, dark, decadent and - dare I say - seductive cover looks modern, sleek and edgy. I was expecting deception, sophistication, a stiletto or two and perhaps some silk undergarments. And what emerged through the cloud of cigar smoke and plinky-plonky piano in my head when I opened the book? Awkward social outsider Grenouille, born into the overwhelmingly odorous fug that engulfed eighteenth-century Paris. I can safely say I have never read a book like this before. Süskind writes well and has a great imagination - the entire concept behind the book is exceptional - one man with no personal smell and the most sensitive nose ever known to mankind spends his life on a solitary personal trip to understand scent, himself and - ultimately - to create the single most wonderful smell imaginable. Grenouille carries out some unspeakable crimes along the way but I was never able to comprehend entirely how I felt about him. The main reason for this is that the author does not spend time going into detail about any of the deaths in the book, not least the murders, so they are not sensationalised in the way that they are in most other cases – an interesting approach. I urge you to read this book and see if you feel the same sense of uncertainty about the character of Grenouille. Pretty much all I knew about ‘Perfume’ before reading it was that it has a good ending, and I have to say the huge amount of lust in the last pages of the book went some way to meet my initial belief that the book might be quite saucy, but neither a champagne flute nor a boudoir was mentioned...