■ Dances with Wolves. The Book Party is a tiresome tradition. Comes a pub date and the publisher hires a room someplace—or makes use of an executive’s pied-a-terre—and invites a few select friends and numerous big mouths to come and shake the author’s hand. The drinks are free. Baked ham, raw broccoli, and round crackers are served. And there is Brie; there is always Brie. And a few strawberries, even in winter. Certain journalists can be seen making a meal of this.
It is rarely the case that such parties are actually meant to “launch” a book; they merely celebrate the launch, like a bon voyage party. Usually the boat never sets sail. The author is left standing alone on deck, tickets and glossy brochures in hand, and the only sights he sees on his journey to fame and fortune are the backs of his editor, his publicist, his sales manager, who are walking away.
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