We're glad you stopped by and hope you'll pop by often as Boxing the Octopus takes on your questions about the world of spinning lies -- we mean fiction -- for fun and profit. In the coming weeks, we'll be introducing ourselves, organizing helpful material, and giving you our take on staying sane and solvent as a novelist.We two Founding Mothers eventually came up with this mission statement:
To encourage and inform emerging writers, support books and authors we love, dialogue with peers in the publishing biz, and reflect on a life and living made of books.I think BoxOcto has made good progress toward these goals in the last four years -- and I might add, we've both managed to stay sane and solvent as the book biz went totally off the rails. We've added some terrific blog crewmates over the last year or so, and God bless them, but I want to take this opportunity to thank Colleen Thompson, my dear kindred spirit and respected colleague, for sharing this journey with me from the beginning. The day we met, Colleeny was doing a table signing at Border's. I was officing in the upstairs coffee shop because my plumbing was being repaired. It was one of the luckiest days of my life, professionally and personally.
Tomorrow and Friday, watch this space for BoxOcto's greatest hits. (And more holiday book recomendations!)
Earlier this month, 
, and the historical romance course she's teaching at Yale. If you're shaking the tree for gift ideas for the romance reader you love, here's a recap and buy links for a few of the books in Willig's syllabus:
"We opened the class with Austen’s 
, which tackles the seminal question of the relationship between novel and reader," Willig said. It's one of Austen's earliest works, but it wasn't published until after her death. Crumbling castles, cryptic messages, paternal tyranny, and a wry send-up of literary fops of the day. 
After due respect to the mother of the Regency romance, Georgette Heyer, the class moved on to Kathleen E Woodiwiss’ 
. The moment Willig mentioned it, I found myself up in the mulberry tree in our front yard in Wisconsin, circa 1974. I clearly remember seeing this book on a turning wire rack near the front door of the Onalaska Public Library. I consumed it like I was on a desert island with a chocolate cake and returned the next day for 
. It was my transition summer to "grown up books" and formed a concept of what romance novels are in my mind.
"Using Woodiwiss as our bridge to the American romance tradition, we examined 'old school' writers McNaught and Lindsey before moving on to Kleypas, Quinn, James, and the more outré takes on the genre, including Regency gothic, Regency vampires, and Chick Lit," said Willig. "We had papers ranging from the Christological imagery in Chase’s 
to boxing as metaphor in Heyer’s 
. Their ingenuity and insights forever changed the way I look at several well-known texts."
came up in conversation. It's been a while since I read it, but it's one of those books that swept through book clubs a few years ago. I immediately hopped online and ordered a copy for Jenny to read on the flight home, and I highly recommend it for the Christmas stocking of the open-minded, free-spirited reader in your life.
was released by Scribner this fall) did a serious deepdive for this performance, and please, please do see this movie on the big screen. Or book a flight to Utah. 
rings true and sweet as a music box. In a sea of memoirs based on big marketing hooks, Sternbach’s subtle theme is refreshing and, you come to realize, profound. Flawless pitch and balance. Guileless, unaffected writing. A book club’s dream date. I loved this perfect little opal earring of a book. After devouring an advance copy, I promptly pre-ordered copies for friends. (It's coming out in April, just in time for Easter baskets.) I also asked Claudia to stop by and tell us about books she might be giving for the holidays. Here's what she has to say:
, he might find himself recalling a time before special effects were available and the story itself packed an emotional punch, rather than a giant 3-D Transformer. Pettersen places the reader in a small cabin in the Norwegian woods in the middle of winter and quietly builds a tale that unfolds with the subtlety of the approaching Nordic spring. The emotional impact is as large as the iceberg which took down the Titanic. But without the orchestra playing on the deck or Leonardo DiCaprio turning into an ice pop. 
to wrap with bright paper and shiny ribbons and share them with my friends who have made the switch to e-readers. Not that there is anything wrong with those clever electronic devices. They are quite handy and an amazing invention, if you ask me. But. I just don't want my gadget-loving friends to forget about actual books. The beauty of holding in your hands something more than plastic. A book, perhaps paperback, or leather bound. The pages crisp or softened with age. An item handed down by a family member or checked out of the library or purchased new and if one is really lucky, inscribed by the author.
, by E.B. White. A perfect little jewel so slim and elegant one should read it while eating fine chocolate truffles and sipping golden, bubbly Champagne from a crystal flute.