Book Promotion: Andrei Codrescu's Bibliodeath

Not (Yet) A Book You Can Buy From Me

Book Title: Bibliodeath: My Archives with Life in Footnotes

Author: Andrei Codrescu

Author's (interactive!) web page: http://www.codrescu.com/livesite/

Publisher: Antibookclub

Publisher's web page: www.antibookclub.com

Date: 2012

Length: 168 pages

Illustrations: some black and white photos

ISBN: 978-0-9838683-3-0

Quote: "The public execution of the paper book today is not an attempt to erase the content, like book burnings by the Inquisition or by nazis...it is the transfer of the content to a new life in another medium."

Bibliodeath is a literary memoir about, specifically, the experience of having one's books and papers electronically archived. This is one of those mixed blessings of a long, successful career. By and large Codrescu succeeds in describing it in a witty, ironic way, without wailing.

As regular readers know, I don't have much faith in any "other medium" that's electric or electronic; as I read an advance copy of Bibliodeath, it becomes apparent that Andrei Codrescu has some doubts, too. Computers crash, burn out. Manufacturers don't support electronic technology; Salman Rushdie's computer is already classified as an "antique" that can only be simulated, not sustained, by the archivists trying to preserve his work. Even the electric current to power the e-junk isn't reliable. Paper copies won't last forever but my experience has already been that it's easier to preserve paper copies longer than it's been to preserve anything electronic.

Detachment from the "bibliodeath" of having libraries "transfer" your books to electronic archives comes with age; that's another point Bibliodeath makes. Adjusting to the reality that some baby-boomers are retiring, considering themselves "senior," even cultivating detachment, is...quite an adjustment.

Then there's adjusting to the reality that pessimistic thoughts may be a good sign. Codrescu doesn't mention Barbara Ehrenreich's Bright-Sided, nor dwell at great length on its theme, but he does mention the link between Old Soviet dictatorship and (enforced) optimism.

I affirm that we do not have to adjust to, or accept, or allow, any "public execution of the paper book." I warn readers that, if we ever really did that, someone out there would immediately "attempt to erase the content"--that that effort is already being made, often by well-meaning people who don't want to read books written by people who were never asked to overcome prejudices against the well-meaning people's ethnic group. And, when--not if--the attempt was made by people with evil, despotic intentions, it would probably succeed. When you buy a paper book or write something on paper, the content of the writing is mortal, fragile, and still outside your head, but it is yours. When you buy the content in an electronic format, you can't be sure that other people, the weather, chance, will even let you keep the content long enough to transfer it into your head. So caveat lector. Beware of e-books even if they're given away with half a pound of tea.

We do, however, have to adjust to the existence of time and mortality, and detach ourselves from the reality that brash, youthful voices gradually become detached, elderly voices. Bibliodeath manages to expound on several reasons why we need to continue buying paper books, while affirming, in a dry and detached way, that we'll probably let huge chunks of culture be erased--by greedy manufacturers, mechanical errors, and our inability to make a graceful transition out of the Waste Age without an economic collapse, if not by dictators. But that will be mostly younger people's problem.

Sometimes either readers' lack of money, or writers' success and generosity (in giving their reputations to smaller publishers), makes a writer's aging process seem less gradual. I think the last Codrescu book I had a chance to read was Road Scholar (one of the best American travel books of all time), so Bibliodeath was a bit of a shock. You, Gentle Readers, can best avoid this shock by collecting the author's intervening publications, including New Orleans Mon Amour, which are listed in no particular order at http://codrescu.com/livesite/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=19&Itemid=27. If you read them in chronological order the transition will be easier to handle.

So, what does Bibliodeath have to offer besides this emotional shock? It's a literary memoir, frequently steering readers to earlier books in which Codrescu shared memories of things other than the writing process. It's a study of how books and writers are made. It's an introduction to some of Codrescu's favorite European writers, some of whom influenced his writing in unlikely, unforgettable ways--the story of his literary relationship with one volume by Renata Pescanti Botti is a recurrent motif throughout the book.

Is a strictly literary memoir on the dry, lit-crit side, of interest to writers only? Not this one. In fact, because Bibliodeath wasn't written for NPR, it contains several of the kind of dry, literary, philosophical insights into the male experience that lead to unpublishable, but very insightful, conversations between couples.

Bibliodeath, of course, contains the standard Codrescu quota of jokes, quirks, and thesis material. One might reflect on the secular-Jewish contrasts between frequent ridicule of false "god" and an occasional respectful reference to "G-d". I, having already posted a consideration of the possible typo in "feint praise," can now say that the word "feint" recurs in the text in "correct" ways that make "feint praise" seem like a deliberate lead-in; someone writing a term paper, not a thesis, might want to chew on that.

If Bibliodeath is your favorite of Codrescu's books, you are a confirmed word-nerd and should only work as a writer, publisher, or librarian. If you're neither a writer, publisher, nor librarian, it's an enjoyable one-time read. It's particularly recommended to those who want to peek at "e-books"...like checking out new books from the library, this can be a good way to maximize your satisfaction with the books you do buy, as long as you remember to buy the good ones.