I spent most of yesterday at Random House and Harpercollins, meeting with publicists. These are the people that I usually only talk with on the phone, setting up events, so it was nice to see them in person. It’s good to touch base with them personally, letting them know how events have gone for the spring, and talking a little about what’s already booked for the fall (some amazing stuff!).

After grabbing some New York pizza, Megan and I went to a party celebrating Reading the World. It was at the German consulate (stunning views from 1st Avenue), and we chatted with other booksellers, especially some friends from Shaman Drum Bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan. The big topic of discussion was works in translation, and how Reading the World is riding the crest of a wave (along with PEN), with promoting translated works to America. Someone from the German consulate made a joke that he thought leaders of state should be required to read at least twelve books a year, six of which were translated. That got a laugh, albeit a somewhat rueful one.

Afterwards, we headed off to Greenwich Village and A Kettle of Fish, to meet with more booksellers and friends from Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Picador and other publishers. It was . . . a long night. Morgan Entrekin from Grove/Atlantic showed up at some point, looking happy — you know it’s a good party when he makes an appearance. Somehow we got back to the hotel (who did pay for that cab?) — and slept off our excesses.

It’s been a long day and a half without internet access, but a lot has been accomplished. After arriving on Wednesday afternoon, I was able to sneak in a quick visit to the Cooper Hewitt Museum, where I spent some time viewing their Triennial exhibit — an exhibition of the best of current design. I was interested to see that the book jackets of Chip Kidd (a designer/editor who works at Random House) were part of this exhibit. It’s intriguing to think about book design being included in the same show as architecture and couture fashion.

After dinner, Megan, Kari and I went to the Emerging Leaders meeting (which I’ll leave Megan to write about), and then we jetted off to the Brooklyn Academy of Music to see a screening of The Inner Life of Martin Frost — a film written, produced and directed by indie author Paul Auster. We just hosted him in January, and he had mentioned this film during his reading, so I was curious to see it. The film centers around the character of Martin Frost (David Thewlis), who wakes in his friend’s house one morning to find a woman (Irene Jacob) lying next to him. Mysterious as she is, she inspires him in the writing of his new story. They fall in love, the story is going swimmingly, she gets sick, the story is finished, she dies. Martin Frost, in a frenzy, burns the story, and Irene Jacob’s character comes back to life. Turns out she’s his muse. The film goes on from there.

I have to admit that I was bothered by how Jacob’s character is SO yielding and passive. The most definible thing about her is that she’s totally supportive and subservient to Martin Frost. How is that inspiring? It reminded me of Francine Prose’s book on the real-life muses of artists, and how they were fascinating women in their own right. Auster’s muse doesn’t exist without the author there — she exists only to serve his needs. How interesting is that?