Dear Wags,

What Becomes A Legend Most?

That tagline for Blackglama mink coats was part of a star-studded ad campaign that ran from the late 1960s to the early 2000s. It showcased a cavalcade of dames —including two feisty Joans (Crawford and Rivers), Maria Callas, Brigitte Bardot, Cher, Judy Garland, Lauren Bacall, Lena Horne, Ethel Merman, Diana Ross, and somehow, Mr. Ray Charles! In short, it was the ultimate Love Boat guest slate. The coats were the last world in swanky, retailing for thousands of dollars.

A few years back, I unearthed a Blackglama mink at a consignment shop for $300.

I didn’t snap it up. Because, you know, fur.

This week, I remembered that Blackglama Not Taken while finalizing syllabi for my creative writing students. Many of them still imagine book publishing to be a glamorous industry, the ultimate cultural fulcrum, where big ideas are hatched, creativity is valued and literature is discussed, debated, and heck, even compensated.

Where are the snows of yesteryear? wrote 15th Century Wag François Villon. In a world afflicted by climate change, please check your Blackglama at the door.

You also won’t land a deal with Knopf that allows you to spend a couple of decades writing your magnum opus.

Publishing’s salad days wilted long ago. Even Knopf’s prancing Borzoi mascot looks leaner after corporate belt-tightening.

We may want things to stay the same. Annoyingly, circumstances go right on changing in any case. I wish they always changed for the better, but one person’s bargain mink is another person’s lost job and vanished way of life.

To recapture that mink magic, should we restaff the fur studios of Midtown Manhattan? No.

To hold onto publishing’s glory days, should we clone legendary editor Bob Gottlieb and revive the modes and manners of a half-century ago? No.

Legends bloom in context. Mary Pickford could not carry Barbie. Many wildly successful authors of our grandparents’ era are pretty dreary to read today.

Two decades ago, when I got a foothold in the book business (or so I thought, but that’s another story), there were no e-books. Audiobooks existed on cassettes. Few authors had websites, and there was no Amazon.com. Everyone planned events at Borders stores. A handful of brave souls were trying something known as a “Web log” so they could publish their thoughts about books without an editor meddling.

Things inevitably changed, for worse and better. I still don’t need a mink coat. But 20 tumultuous years on, I have learned this: A good editor is more precious than royal ermine.

As ever,

BKP

Happiness Falls by Angie Kim

What does it mean to communicate? That’s one of the big questions Kim poses in her new novel, which follows 2020’s Miracle Creek. Mia Parkson’s father is missing, and the only person who may know why is her 14-year-old brother Eugene. But Eugene has Angelman Syndrome, a genetic disorder that leaves him “locked in” and unable to communicate. When Mia deciphers her dad’s notebooks, she uncovers secrets that may affect her whole family. Driven by dynamic first-person narration, this is a novel to savor over a long weekend and share with loved ones. It’s also a perfect fall book club choice. (Check out Angie Kim’s 3 Glorious Things below.)

Learned by Heart by Emma Donoghue

Did you watch Gentleman Jack? Tragically, probably not! The canceled BBC/HBO series is based on the diaries of Anne Lister, a proper English lady of the 19th century who happened to be a sexual renegade. Lister chose to openly live in a marriage with Ann Walker at Shibden Hall in Yorkshire. Despite her public profession of Sapphic love, she was wracked by insecurity and poured her misgivings into a secret, five-million-word journal. Now, Irish Canadian novelist Donoghue (The Wonder) reimagines Lister’s romance with another love, Eliza Raine, while at boarding school. Donoghue delivers a vivid portrait of life in an all-girls academy and more importantly, captures how great love can lead to disaster.

Terrace Story by Hillary Leichter

Leichter’s latest isn’t quite the discreet story implied by the title, but neither is it a novel. Instead, it’s a series of linked stories and a meditation on life in this hard, sad, magical era. The book began as an award-winning magazine fiction, in which Edward and Annie discover that their apartment closet leads to a beautiful outdoor space. However, they can only access it when their friend Stephanie visits. How Stephanie’s powers work, and the dark side of such enchantments, makes for a compelling read. It turns out everyone involved needs more space—one character even leaves the planet—but we’re not just talking about real estate.

The Deadline by Jill Lepore

Let’s get this out of the way: Jill Lepore is smarter than us. She’s the David Kemper ’41 Professor of American History at Harvard, a staff writer at The New Yorker, a podcast host, and a two-time Pulitzer finalist. A few of her books—this is her 13th—have been longlisted for the National Book Award. You can be forgiven if you aren’t caught up on all of her essays, because there are 46 in this collection alone. The writing here covers a diversity of topics, including #MeToo, Barbie, Trayvon Martin, and a close friend’s death from leukemia. Lepore Stans may prefer her more hard-hitting journalistic pieces; she’s less surefooted when it comes to personal revelation. But someone this smart is a quick study.

Company by Amy Thielen

This book’s subtitle—The Radically Casual Art of Cooking for Others— almost made me break out in hives. Even making a salad to serve alongside pizza triggers my Virgo perfectionist anxieties. But Thielen (The New Midwestern Table) may prod me into whipping up Fun House Baked Potatoes for a last-minute get-together. She provides recipes, menus, and best of all, kind advice. These wonderful menus contain seasonal and local ingredients alongside wisdom from a sophisticated chef who loves dishes from other cultures as much as her native Michigan. You’ll find instructions for matafans, persillade, pavlova, and miso used in many ways. Her Orange Julius with Basil prompted a wave of childhood nostalgia. Get this cookbook, Wags!