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Science friction

Continued from page 4

The fact is, if Cameron does bring Brother Termite to America's multiplexes, it will be a bittersweet victory. On the one hand, it will mean a nice chunk of money for her through increased book sales, probably for her entire paperback line at Ace. And that will mean increased visibility for the science fiction that Patricia Anthony has written. But would the fans who are introduced to her writing via James Cameron head straight for Mercy's Children? Not unless they're willing to pull aside Bruce Sterling's slipstream "iron curtain of category marketing."

Don Maas, whose agency has been selling fiction in New York for 18 years, outlines the dilemma he currently faces in shopping around Anthony's gigantic manuscript. Needless to say, all reluctance an editor experiences originates a few offices down the hall, in the marketing department.

"Think of the way most bookstores are arranged," he says. "Fiction is not available in one place. There are usually four different categories--sci-fi/fantasy, romance, mystery, and what's called either general fiction or fiction and literature. An author who starts out in the sci-fi section can build a readership much quicker, because the readers who go to those shelves not only pick up their favorite authors, but they're willing to try different ones. They're interested in certain broad subjects or themes.

"Meanwhile, general fiction readers are brand-loyal, or author-loyal, if you will. They stick to a certain name, and they aren't likely to try a wide variety of authors. Seeing an author on the bestseller list, or hearing that they've won a Pulitzer, helps a lot. Patricia Anthony will be winning major literary awards, but we need time. When Patricia leaves the sci-fi shelf, she'll leave readers behind. And readers who don't read science fiction and aren't familiar with the quality of her work will just see a name on the jacket."

In addition, publishing houses might be a bit reluctant to sign an author who comes with a 700-page book attached to her--much less a 700-page historical novel told through the voice of a horny angel who speaks in heavy dialect. Publishers would be forced to sell such a gargantuan book for at least $30; not only would Mercy's Children cost a lot to sell, but it would cost a fortune just to produce.

"My reputation in this town means that I can call any editor at any house and be guaranteed that they'll at least read Mercy's Children," Maas says with the breezy chutzpah of a New York agent. "And that's one big hurdle overcome, because once they get past page one, they'll see that it's very humorous and easy to read. It's a wonderful, accessible novel...

"This book will find a publisher. The question is, will the next book and the next book and the book after that be published? Patricia Anthony needs to find a house that will stick with her for several titles so she can build an audience. There is a lot of pressure in publishing today to have a hit. There's not much encouragement to stick by talented writers through slow sales. A lot of authors are simply washed out."

And when publishers do take a chance on an imaginative new voice, the changing nature of book retailing--the superstores such as Borders and Barnes & Noble, the price clubs and discount chains such as Sam's and WalMart--means that a very large first printing must be done on titles that may not have mass appeal. A large first run requires a large publicity budget to protect the investment. Yet even after all that money's spent, publishers too often hear a knock at their warehouse door and open it to see a truckload of unsold novels.

Patricia Anthony is, of course, well aware that she has stepped from behind the iron curtain of sci-fi and leaped into a gigantic, roiling shark-tank of commercial pressures, where some literary ambitions have managed to stay afloat but many have been dragged below before they could learn how to swim.

But she possesses the what-the-hell? confidence that happens only when someone realizes they will happily sacrifice everything without compromising anything. She could easily have stayed on the sci-fi money train, even if only as a side project to finance her more literary aspirations. But Anthony is determined to be taken seriously, no matter the price.

"The New York publishing world has its head up its butt," she says bluntly. "They're losing shitloads of money. They pay too damn much for authors. Even the genres, the ones with the supposedly stable readerships, are suffering. Sci-fi publishers are scrambling to get new readers to the shelves by doing tie-ins with movies and video games. 'We have to look for characters in new places.' How about hiring good writers to write them?"

Good writers like Patricia Anthony. But mainstream risks be damned; New York had better not expect her to fail and come crawling back to science fiction. As she says, flatly and finally, "That's not possible now.

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