New Year's Resolutions

As I'm off for the holidays (and currently wetting myself with fear at the thought of man-propelled flight), I thought I'd leave all three of you with a few resolutions I hope to achieve.

1. Read Moby Dick. I've got a copy, but I've never read the seminal masterpiece of maritime drama.

2. Reread old favourites. I read a lot of books, but I think I should return to visit some old friends, such as Garp, Quoyle, and Ignatius.

3. Get back to running. Time to start moving my body in a forward direction again.

4. Write. For a guy publishing a novel in three months, my literary output is upsettlingly negligible.

5. Go back to vegetarianism. Time for one glorious meat-filled holiday blowout, then back to a more healthy, guilt-free lifestyle.

I'll see you all in 2007. I wish a happy non-denominational family fun-fest gift-giving day to you all.

Shelf Monkey
ISBN-10: 1-55022-766-1
ISBN-13: 978-1-55022-766-6
PS8635.E338S54 2007
5.5x85."; 300 pages, paper with french flaps
$18.95
April 2007
Fiction

Public Reading Schedule

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"I’ve often wondered how a novel’s characters might assess the book they’ve been thrust, unwillingly, into -­ like victims of a kidnapping. Well, now it’s actually happened to me. Yes, Eric McCormack appears as a character in Shelf Monkey. Once I got over the shock of finding myself there and settled in for the long haul, I thought: What a literate, witty, suspenseful, alternate world Corey Redekop’s created. I’m not so sure I want to be rescued from it!"
Eric McCormack, author, The Dutch Wife

"A playful — yet very serious — ode to bibliophilia. Corey Redekop writes with energy and imagination, deft little jabs that go straight to the solar plexus. I laughed, and thought — a great deal — reading Shelf Monkey."
Paul Quarrington, author, Whale Music

Thomas Friesen has three goals in life. Get a job. Make friends. Find a good book to curl up with. After landing a job at READ, the newest hypermegabookstore, he feels he may have accomplished all three.

All is not peaceable within the stacks, however. Discontent is steadily rising, and it is aimed squarely at Munroe Purvis, a talk show host whose wildly popular book club is progressively lowering the I.Q. of North America.

But the bookworms have a plan. Plots are being hatched. The destruction of Munroe is all but assured. And as Thomas finds himself swept along in the maëlstrom of insanity, he wonders if reading a book is all it’s cracked up to be.

If you’ve ever thrown a book against a wall in disgust; if you’ve ever loved a novel that no one else can stand; if you obsess over the proper use of punctuation; this may be the novel for you. A weirdly funny story about bookish addictions, Shelf Monkey is the ideal novel for anyone who loves good books. Or hates them.

The galleys have arrived!

I just received the galleys of Shelf Monkey, still warm from the hands of a loving courier.

Galleys, for those of you not in the know, are the almost-finalized pre-publication pages of a book. This is the last chance to go through the novel for any errors in spelling (a few), punctuation (a few more), and continuity (a lot - even in Winnipeg, people don't wear parkas in July. Oops.). It's also the last chance for the author to read the book, to see if there's any lingering doubts, and perhaps it would just be best for everyone if the freaking thing were to be destroyed.

So, last page read, pencils down. Thoughts?

I don't hate it as much as I thought I would. I've lived with it for over three years now, and despite its constant presence in my life, I kind of like it. Oh, it has its flaws, and I seriously doubt teachers will be adding it to their curriculums any time soon, but it's not bad. It makes me laugh. The ending works great (for me). It's not horrible, or even worse, horeckian.

The strangest thing? I don't recall writing a lot of it. Oh, the plot is exactly as I remember, but individual sentences jump out at me. Did I write that? Damn, that's a good sentence. I mean, it's no David Foster Wallace (whose novel Infinite Jest contained one sentence that surpassed eight hundred words in length), but some of these sentences, their construction, their humour - I can't believe I actually wrote them.

Is this common for authors, or is it just me? Did I steal the novel, a la Hal Jam, finding it in the woods and appropriating it as my own? Did I really put pen to paper and create the whole damn beast that sits before me?

Yeah, I find this funny, and yeah, I'm going to hell

No apologies from me. This is hilarious.

There's No Way I'm Saving That Guy

All right. I realize I am supposed to be all-merciful, universally loving, the Light and the Way and everything, but even a divine avatar of the Supreme Being's loving grace has His limits.

The perils of adapting great fiction into film

Just a quick note about a nice article from Slate, outlining the development hell that has surrounded John Kennedy Toole's comic masterpiece A Confederacy of Dunces. As for myself, maybe it's just one of those novels that should never be adapted. Sure, Fight Club worked, and The English Patient, but what about Catch-22, Breakfast of Champions, and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy? All wonderful novels, all slightly tarnished by the well-meaning but ultimately flawed attempts to both capture the essence of the book while creating a visual interpretation of the unfilmmable elements.

Read the article in its entirety here.

Another fascinating bit of minutiae

Yes, I know I've bothered all three of my faithful readers with dull, intensely uninteresting bits of trivia as it relates to the ultimate publishing of my novel Shelf Monkey.

Too bad for you.

That off my chest, I reveal to you now, the official Shelf Monkey Library of Congress classification number!

PS8635.E338S54 2007

Oooooohh, chills!

The Awful Truth - the continuing story of the evolution of Shelf Monkey

As London is currently under six feet of snow, I've found myself snowbound, with nothing to do but cruise the Internet and rewatch my Futurama DVDs for the trillionth time. Time to continue the epic tale of getting my novel published.

SO...

The manuscript had been sent, the publisher was impressed, and Shelf Monkey was pretty much accepted. Or so I thought. My editor Jen asked to meet with me, to go over some plot points (minor, I was sure), and so I packed up my copy of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell, and set out on the next available train to the wondrous playland know as Toronto, or T.O., or now, T-Dot. Don't ask, it's just not worth it.

In my mind, I expected pomp, circumstance, and acclaim, envisioning the Hollywood publishing companies I'd drooled over in films such as Wolf and...well, that's the only one I could think of, but if it was good enough for Jack Nicholson, it would suit me fine. Of course, reality has a nasty habit of crushing my expectations, and while I love ECW Press, and knew it was a small independent publisher, somehow I expected something...grander.

But Jen was warm and welcoming, and she and I sat down to hammer out what she viewed as possible areas for improvement. Now, I love criticism, I crave it like some crave salt, I never feel fully at ease when I'm singled out for praise, but I felt certain that Shelf Monkey was perfect. There might be some surface changes, but on the whole, a solid piece of literature. Yes, I'm delusional, don't go there, okay? But as Jen laid out her thoughts, and as I smiled broadly, I felt a sinking feeling in my colon: she didn't think it was perfect. And she was right.

After a few hours of talk, and a lunch that consisted of the single finest omelette I have ever eaten (wish I could remember the name of the restaurant), I headed home, my notepad brimming with ideas and suggestions, and my ego bruised but already healing. I got home and set to work on the rewrite, sure it would take only a few days, two weeks, tops.

Four months later...

The original manuscript was 60,000 words, by no means a Neal Stephenson-sized epic, but not something to be ashamed of. The new rewrite? 85,000 words. Somehow, without meaning to do anything but add a line here, a word there, I increased Shelf Monkey's length by 25,000 words. But now it was ready, now it was done.

Right?

Tune in next week, same bat-time, same bat-channel, for - The Contract.

How people find me

I promise to get to the all-important continuation of the Shelf Monkey epic, but I thought I'd waste a little time instead.

I've noticed other blogs do this, so I took note of the various search terms that have brought people to my site.

Here are the last few, some obvious, some unusual:

Shelf Monkey
Corey Redekop
shelf Monkey Blog
monkey blogger
cumyn
"Rosellen Price" and homepage
"taras grescoe"
brown's requiem ellroy plot
All This Town Remembers
trapped on zombie island
ecw press spring 2007
and...(wait for it)...naked calenders!

All make sense, to a point, but naked calenders?

More Proof I Exist! Even better than the ISBN numbers!

Just a quick note, as proof positive that I have not been lying to you not myself about the upcoming publication of Shelf Monkey.

If you'll have a look at the above title, or here, you'll find the bare bones but accurate Chapters.ca promotional page concerning, well, me.

I have also received the Official ECW Press Spring Catalogue, and will link to the PDF pages as soon as I figure out how.