Click the image above to watch the story of getting Denis Johnson to sign my copy of Jesus’ Son.
A few years ago I attended a writing conference in Portland, Oregon called the Tin House Writer’s Workshop. During the event, I met a lot of great authors, one of which was Denis Johnson, author of, among many other books, Jesus’ Son.
This newest installment of Getting the Singed Book features my heroic story of how I got my copy of Jesus’ Son signed by the author. It involves, among other awkward situations, the author nearly, almost, kinda drinking my pee. Read all about this almost happening at Dark Sky Magazine, here: http://www.cjrlit.com/DrinkingPee
Hear the amazing, mostly made up story of how I got my copy of Joe Meno’s How the Hula Girl Sings signed by the author during the 2004 Association of Writers and Writing Projects conference in Chicago, IL. You’ll hear the first-hand account of how I knew Meno as a musician first and an author second, why I should be more sensitive to Hula throat issues, and why Joe Meno owes me a royalty check.
Click the image above to watch the video at YouTube
Hear the amazing, 100% true(ish) story of how I got my copy of Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom signed by the author during an author reading in Kansas City on September 22, 2010. You’ll hear the first-hand account of my bravery in the face of an elderly security guard, the strength of punches needed to take babies down, and why I’m glad Franzen is an author rather than a professional investment broker.
This begs a few questions: 1) what’s the point of a signed book, 2) what makes a signed book more desirable than an unsigned book, and 3) what’s so great about this particular signature?
I am a signed book nerd, and even I don’t know the answer to the first question. So, instead of waxing eloquent I’ll instead jump to question two. The short answer: an implied communion with the author.
Personally inscribed copy of Jesus Son by Denis Johnson. I'll let you sniff it for a quarter.
While the internet has changed this relationship considerably, there is still a sense of proximity with a signed book that an unsigned book just doesn’t provide. It is sort of the hipster’s creed: “I have an investment in our community that runs deeper than yours, and this signed cd/book/indie film/celebrity organ proves it.” So really, it comes down to bragging rights among an already incestuous community of like-minded nerds. Once part of such a cloistered group, it takes a bit more digging to unearth the leverage necessary to become king of the nerds. With books, that leverage is often the signature. Or better yet, the signed first edition, first printing of a short run university press collection of essays that most people didn’t know about until it was printed posthumously within a series of collected works. “So as you can see, I deserve that nerd crown you poser,” says the vitamin D deprived book hipster, or bookster since I’m hip enough to make up words like that.
Don’t confuse my last question (what’s so great about this particular signature?) as a condemnation of the man’s importance. I am just questioning how his signature could possibly be worth $250,000 to anyone. Let me step back and make the obvious argument that booksters such as myself struggle to avoid: the words within the covers are the same damn words, signed title page or not.
