Ballroom tattoos. And a note on the Anonymous author of The Bourbon Kid

A lot of new arrivals on this blog lately and it seems like this summer everyone is after two things: dancing and books. Isn't that just lovely?

Apparently, everyone in France is searching for the Anonymous author of The Book With No Name and this quest brings some of the readers here. Which is nice, but this is not the best place to look for that information.

Those who are not that much into reading are either planning to get tattoos or take up ballroom dancing or both and so they show up here looking for ballroom dancing tattoos or wondering if tattoos are allowed in ballroom dancing.

Let's take them one at a time and start with the facts, then we'll take a look at fiction.

Ballroom dancing and tattoos. Yes, they can go hand in hand, although it's probably not a great idea. There's no rule against tattoos in ballroom dancing however if you do decide to get a tattoo and still compete it would be best to go for something small, preferably in a place that's not exposed. After all, you should remember that ballroom dancing started as a form of social dancing for the privileged (now think of those who used to have tattoos back when ballroom dancing became increasingly popular and you'll know why they're not exactly compatible). True, the term has changed its meaning and now refers to International Standard and International Latin style dances but that does not mean everything has become acceptable overnight. If, however, you're just dancing for fun (and dancing is a lot of fun, not to mention it can teach you a thing or two about compromising, teamwork and trust) then there's really no argument against tattoos. I'm very much enjoying mine and I think they're even more beautiful while I'm dancing. Here you can read more about what's allowed and what's not allowed in competitive dancing.

Moving on to The Bourbon Kid and his Anonymous author, the answer is simple and it's right there in front of you, as long as you learn to read between the lines and stop listening to what everybody says/writes about him. All it takes is a little effort and a little imagination. But before anything else you should respect the fictional pact you make with the author the minute you open the books (my advice is to try to add your own amendments to it, see if it works).

The boys are back in town

Dreams will be crushed. Deals will be made. And blood will be spilled.

Le Bourbon Kid

It's only about three weeks until the release of another sensational Anonymous novel, The Devil's Graveyard, a story about a singing competition, dead rock stars and zombies, featuring Sanchez the bartender, the Mystic Lady and the world's favorite serial killer, the Bourbon Kid. Looking forward to it, especially as I know for sure I'll have the pleasure of translating it. Oddly enough, in the meantime I'm working on another novel, Friend of the Devil by Peter Robinson - just to stay in shape. Add to that one of the first books I've translated, quite a long time ago, The Devil's Companions, and I think I'm slowly but surely becoming an expert in anything & everything Devil.

And that's not the only good news, as the French edition is to be released on June 3rd. The trailer made in France has become number 1 on my list. The Polish trailers were very good, as was the entire promotion of the book, the Spanish one was a huge disappointment, but the French is awesome and I'm looking forward to reading Le livre sans nom (courtesy of Big Brother, who also bought the Spanish edition, a lovely birthday present and a great contribution to my collection, which now has a shelf of its own).

In other Book With No Name news - well, rather book-inspired - El Santino (my bike) and I had our first fight. I told him so many times to stop window shopping especially if it's raining, I'm not wearing my glasses and we're speeding, but he just wouldn't listen. So today the inevitable happened and we had our first serious accident. Luckily, there were no other victims, but now we're both bruised and while I can hide my bruises his are really hideous and require new layers of paint. I'm considering painting him pink just to get revenge and teach him a lesson. The good part is I have two new fabulous dresses.

Świat Książki strikes again

When it comes to book events, promotional campaigns, publishing houses and book parties, I'm very hard to please. I find most of them dull, old-fashioned, predictable and they're hardly ever book-oriented.

In most cases, we are dealing with a universal pattern that guarantees about 10 people in the audience: two or three speakers (at least one of them must be a literary critic), a moderator with very bad moderating skills (usually, some messed up PR person who has to be there because it's a job thing), a pile of books on a table in the corner, three or four on the table in front of the speakers, a venue that's normally popular (pub, club, fancy coffee shop) and a very inadequate timing (very few people bother to enter a club late in the afternoon, and it's even more embarrassing when the event takes place somewhere downstairs, while upstairs the bartenders are getting ready for a busy night, with no customers in sight), some sad little abstract posters and a lonely dusty banner. The really daring and outrageous book events might feature a piano intermezzo that's sure to bore everyone out of their skull and cheap wine that won't even get the audience drunk, as to make things bearable. As far as campaigns are concerned, a book is lucky to get some publicity in the press, a teaser that tries to be funny / witty / controversial and in most cases fails and some pathetic Facebook announcements two days before the event. Most books are just thrown out there and end up in bookstores without anyone noticing they were there. True, I've only had firsthand experiences of the Romanian and Polish markets so maybe the pattern isn't all that universal after all, and somewhere out there another pattern awaits to be discovered and imported.

Luckily, there are exceptions to the rule. And when they do occur, they are truly...exceptional. Which is to be expected, especially when the book that makes the object of the campaign is a masterpiece.

Given the fact that we are talking about the follow-up to The Book, given my emotional implication and the effort put in translating it, it is with heavy heart that I have to announce yet another brilliant campaign made in Poland. My adoptive country wins again, this time promoting The Eye of the Moon.

First there was the contest: smart, perfectly capturing the spirit of the book, introducing the characters and their stories, giving fans the opportunity to come up with their own interpretations (I find it so good I was almost tempted to translate it into English, for the sake of my non-Polish speaking readers).

Then came the trailer:

And then the newspaper - The Santa Mondega Times, an awesome sneak preview to the book:

I do expect a party sometime in the near future. And in the meantime, something to look forward to: only a few months left until the official release of the third book, The Devil's Graveyard.

And a grumpy afternoon

About one month ago, the Romanian publisher of The Book & The Eye contacted me asking if I'd be interested in the organization of an event related to the two books, as The Eye has recently been released on the Romanian market. Of course I instantly said yes - how could I have been so foolish? I had written the most wonderful book-party-proposal for The Book, but the party never happened. So I let myself fooled for the second time, and came up with another idea for a book party. This time, it was even better, as the event was to take place during the Book Fair in Bucharest. So I got all excited and wrote the proposal, from the general concept of the party down to the details about posters and other printed materials.

In the meantime, they gave up the whole book party thing and replaced it with a presentation of the book(s) on the fairground, together with the other books in the SF & Fantasy collection. They still wanted me to speak at the event. I, on the other hand, didn't.

No wonder book events never manage to have a (numerous) public. Because publishers still think their job is done once the book is printed, and most of the times they lack strategy, innitiative and courage. And a business plan. Literature does need these things, at least from time to time, but it is advisable to have them on a regular basis, if we expect people to buy books and, well, read them.

Nothing but good news

My very good friend Veronica, who lives & works & plays cool in Paris, is coming to visit at the beginning of May. The decision was spontaneous and delightful:
me: I miss you, I miss talking to you until we grow tired of all that talking.
vero: wait a sec
(I wait)
vero: here: Paris - Beauvais 07. May 2009 20:50 Katowice 07. May 2009 22:45
(via Y!M)
*
We've been waiting for so long (me, my imaginary friend, and probably the rest of the Anonymous fan club) but it's been worth being patient. The big announcement has been made a few days ago: I've just signed with the Isabel White Literary Agency. Weeeee :) Congrats, man! Time to pop the bourbon!!
(via http://www.myspace.com/bookwithnoname)
*
Dropkick Murphys in concert, Warsaw, July 12. I am so there!!!
(via Tomek)

I want!!!

*drooling*

The Book With No Name
+
quigonjim
+
T-shirt competition started by the Red Bubble website
=


Now if you asked me, I would've loved a tee inspired by page 98 of the bookie, but then again I only got this idea after seeing quigonjim's fine piece of work, so I guess I'm not really entitled to comment or to make pretense. I'm just saying that page 98 is cool, and I'd wear it :)
I just dunno if I should go for cranberry or baby blue.

Crossroads

It's here! My special signed copy. I have to keep it secret, keep it safe, or the Bourbon Kid will track me down. I may have understood something, everything, or nothing. One thing's sure:

"And all the while as you search for the truth, it will be there right before you".

The book and the postcard that came with it helped deepen my confusion, I'm now even more intrigued and pondering over the decision of continuing my quest or giving it up. I have all the reasons to go for option number 1, and only one to choose number 2 and stop where I am: my fictional life is rich enough as it is, if I add more ingredients to it, than I can stop calling it a fictional life and start using the medical term. On the other hand, somebody who understands the story very well and encourages me to walk on, made a very good point:
me: what if i go insane?
him: what if u r already?
Touche, my friend, touche!

The Victory Dance

Yaaaaaaaay!!
The announcement :)
I will be the happy and proud owner of a book with an autograph from THE MAN! And he called me "delightful". I mean, my totally favourite author, the one person who's proven that Eco's theory about the Model Author and Model Reader is not only theory, but fact, called me "delightful". Which I obviously am, but what were the odds to hear it from him? After translating The Book With No Name, I wouldn't even dare to dream that this moment would come.
And it only gets better - because I emailed him (took a long deep breath, came to my senses and wrote something coherent, not just "OMG, you're so cool and awesome!") and he emailed back and, well, the point is, there's probably nothing more rewarding than fiction coming to life.
In other Book With No Name related news, we have now the Polish version, published by Swiat Ksiazki, with a very cool video promoting it (see below) and I am planning my next move, which is still not to be discussed, but I will keep you updated, as I have this theory, that the curse of the book is somewhat different for its translators.

The Book With No Name. Again

It took about three shooting-sessions in the forest & in the tent, 6 hours of cutting, putting the pieces togethere, laughing, with me learning new words in German (highlits of the night: Spannung and Ubergang), lots of smoking as my voice, recorded, is really high-pitched (it may be high-pitched by default, except that I don't hear it when I speak), in the meantime Maxi was running out of time as she is way more perfectionist than I am and she also had a train to catch, but in the end we did it.
So here it is, without any further comments.

The Book With No Name.


p.s. I used to read this blog (Letters to Marc Jacobs), until this lady got bored with waiting for an answer from Marc Jacobs. I'm actually considering, due to the amount of information on / related to The Book With No Name, starting a new blog, Letters to Anonymous, and move the entire obsession there, especially as I did get some feedback by now :) That would bring me one step closer to acting like a mad groupie (I do have all the symptoms, by now).

Tent stories

Sanchez hated strangers coming into his bar.
This is the very first line of The Book With No Name.

I also hate strangers coming into the tent. And not only because Sanchez is my hero and I hope someday he'll show up in my life to teach me the deepest darkest secrets of bartending, but because strangers coming into a bar which has its own set of unwritten rules, very well known by the regulars, are a real pain in the ass.
There's several categories of "strangers" in the tent, equally despicable.
1. The disoriented pretty little girls. They usually come up in groups of 4-6. I see them walk in and I can bet at least three of them will be drinking beer with raspberry syrup. As they are probably used to places that have central heating and walls, they are inadequately dressed. Hence one beer is more than enough. They overdose on perfume, which mixes with the smell of burnt wood, beer and cigarettes, making my liver happy for the night. They want beer without alcohol, wine, I do expect them to ask for a Mojito sooner or later. As they never sit at the bar, I have no idea what they talk about. Not that I'd really want to know, as they pretty much manage to piss me off by simply opening their mouths to order beer.
2. The self-sufficient ones. They try to act cool. Unlike the pretty little girls, they'd like to pass as regulars. Except that they don't. The pattern: they show up, take a tour of the bar, find a seat, usually at the bar, wait until they establish eye contact, and the damage is done. What kind of draft beer do you have? What about bottled beers? (Darlings, why should I force myself to pay attention to what kinds of bottled beer we have left in the fridge that's in the opposite part of the bar, and which our regular customers just open and help themselves??) Do you have votca? (How about some champagne and caviar, on the house, 'cause you're so awesome?). Eventually they decide, but can't move their asses to the fridge, so go-fetch beer-take money-give the change-answer two more utterly idiotic questions. By the way, ashtrays are to be found on the bar, if you get your Tyskie beer in a glass with the Zubr logo it's because we're out of Tyskie glasses and it's either this or plastic cups so no need to be sarcastic about it, I can't - or rather don't want to - change the music or turn down the volume, and by no means do I want to make friends with you after you're half drunk and think you can just hit on the bartender.
3. The tormented souls. They come to the pub because life is hard. They have to end world hunger, bring peace to the Middle East, save the planet, and make it back home for supper. Being so overwhelmed, they skip the hello / thank you part, and sometimes don't even say what kind of beer they want. Good thing I'm such a cool bartender and guess.

Fortunately, these people are less than 10% of the customers in the tent.
The rest of 90-something% say hello when they show up, engage themselves in light conversations while waiting for their beer, smile, bring their glass back for a refill, bring the empty bottles back to the bar, hang around, smile some more, they're a source of positive energy, and some of them are by now more than mere acquaintances.
It's no surprise the atmosphere is so familiar and cozy when Jacek is behind the bar - he's been there for quite some time, he knows everybody, many of the people in the tent are his friends, so that's how it should be. But it was one of the nicest surprises in this city to see myself somewhat "adopted" in the tent, and feeling the same coziness no matter on what side of the bar I'm standing.

Game on!

He's thinking about offering a signed copy of The Eye of the Moon to the best video featuring The Book With No Name. See for yourselves.
I'm thinking of giving it a try, hence I've been writing scenarios and driving everybody insane
Maxi is thinking about joining me on this new quest, which will certainly be more complicated and adventurous than the quest for cake, which took place last Wednesday.
As with any quest, failure is possible. But hopefully, once we're done with our Polish exams (yes, I do have a certain order of priorities, or at least I'm pretending to have one) we'll get to work and come up with a video.

p.s. Tomek informed me today that there are no vampires in our forest, as they appear to be afraid of wild boars. This made me feel better about my late night walks to the tent and back.

Stranger than fiction

It's not a secret anymore that I've become somewhat obsessed with The Book With No Name. If you still don't know what that is, you either close your browser and never come back here again, or you go back to reading the letter I wrote to the Anonymous author of the book, check out the website, order the book - the English version is available here, or if you're interested in my remarkable Romanian translation, you can find it here.
Last week, when I was still fighting my mild depression, two events considerably helped me improve my condition:

1. I found in my mailbox The Eye of the Moon, i.e. the follow-up to The Book With No Name, so Sanchez the bartender was back in my life, to set the new standards for the job, to act as a role model, the Bourbon Kid was back, the vampires, the killings, the crazy quest for the precious blue stone. For two days, Iwas the happiest kid in town. That's how long the miracle lasted, but I was still happy when I finished reading, because I knew there's the translation process waiting, so the following months will be totally entertaining, although I must admit that the walks home from the bar are like a shot of adrenaline, since I'm quite sure there's vampires in the woods, and they'll be after me at some point. Especially since a few weeks ago I found in the bar a ring with a huge blue stone, which I took home after a while, since nobody claimed it. We'll have to wait and see.
2. He read my blog!!!!! He knows I exist! And he called me "a very pleasant lady". Thank you, I think you're pretty cool too (I probably made it very clear by now).
   

Ladies and gentlemen (drums, lights go dim, smoke) ... ANONYMOUS:
http://www.myspace.com/bookwithnoname

p.s. I would also like to announce the inauguration of a new category which, under the label "Bourbon Kid & co" will keep you all updated with everything related to the books, the author, my translation, the vampires in the woods here in Kato, my blue stone and the teachings of Sanchez put into practice in my very own Tapioca.

Dear Anonymous*,

You are probably not reading my blog, but if there's any chance for this message to get to you in due time, this is it.
I just wanted to let you know that Tapioca exists. In Poland as well, not only in Santa Mondega. We live by the rules of fiction. Everybody knows everybody. We rarely serve coffee, but we keep pace when it comes to beer. People may not have that much gravel in their voices - but this happens mainly because they are the good counterparts of those in Santa Mondega. The place is totally hidden, and it seldomly happens that new people show up. If they accidentally do, they don't make a habit of coming back. And we don't have a bottle of piss under the bar, but this is also because we - the bartenders - are somewhat kinder than Sanchez. And we don't have to be cautios about newcomers. They come and go.
In order for you to fully understand how Tapioca has a Polish version, you have to come visit us. I'd say it's a must... because the Bourbon Kid might find us first, and then there would be nothing left for you to see, and it would really be a pitty.
So I found the perfect opportunity to invite you here: next week, on Friday, we're having a costume party. Which is not related in any way to an eclipse - but here it's mostly dark anyway, and light in the bar is minimal. Still not sure if I'll go for the Catwoman costume like Jessica, or for the clown, like Kacy, or if I come up with some other option. One thing is sure: I will be there, behind the bar. Just in case you show up, I will have the bottle waiting for you. Looking forward to hearing those words - the key words - from a voice that has so much gravel in it that it could fill a pint.
No hard feelings if you don't come. I will assume you've had some prior arrangement. But there are no words to describe my happiness if you did show up. And I'm sure you'll agree with me, and discover the wonders of the Polish Tapioca.
All of my love,
Your biggest fan

• 
  

Note: If you are reading this and you are not Anonymous but still want to make some sense of this letter, go check out The Book With No Name first.

Work is something you do, not somewhere you go

Politics has never been one of my top-rated fields of interest . Aliens and ufology didn't rank high, either.
Apparently, their combination works just fine for me. Immersed in Christopher Buckley's Little Green Men, my life has moved to Washington D.C. in the past few days, revealing the mysteries behind top-secret, government-instrumented alien abductions.

The plot-line is simple: since 1947, a top secret organization, called MJ-12, has had one mission - convincing American citizens that there is something out there... and they're trying to reach us. Things get complicated when one of the abductees is the most popular media personality of the day. And he's willing to do anything to convince Americans that the aliens have landed. The combination of absurd plot and witty humor is just wonderful.
Fiction always does the trick, and translating pretty much borders writing - finding the right words, trying to figure out what the author might have said if he could have said it in another language. The kind of work I might not get bored with. At least not in the foreseeable future.
It kind of reminds me of school projects, with all the dictionaries, notebooks, post-its and research involved (by the way, I miss school a whole lot. This is the symptom of mid-summer holiday, feeling like I've had enough spare time on my hands and waiting to get back in business). Unlike school projects, however, working with books gets me more involved. The novel I've translated before Buckley was a wonderful parody of all literary genres, with all the conceivable amount of blood, bourbon, a quest for a blue stone that holds magic powers, freaky characters and a good laughter, all set in the spooky town of Santa Mondega, home of the undead, where the only things not allowed are not smoking and not drinking. It's been a few months now since the book's been published, and I still crave for a triple bourbon every now and then, not to mention my decision of working, at least for a while, in a bar - more or less similar to the filthy Tapioca Bar, where Sanchez would serve a glass of piss to any of the new faces in town, or to the strangers who just don't look strange enough.
Hopefully, by the time I'm done with the little green men, I won't change my career options and decide NASA is the place for me.