On Books, On Publishing, Reading Lists, Views

The Holy Grail vs. the French Horn – A Look at Quest Books

The Catcher in the Rye; The Odyssey; The Penguin Poets: Robert Burns
by Alan Trotter

One recent book trend links such disparate activities as sex and dishwashing, playing the French horn and cooking French food—quest books. A.J. Jacobs, the author of four such books (The Know-It All, The Year of Living Biblically, My Life as an Experiment, and Drop Dead Healthy), is a leader in this subgenre. Reminiscent of gonzo and immersion journalism or lumped on the shelves with memoir, quest books are chronicles of personal pursuits distinctive in several ways.

Unlike typical memoirs, quest books aren’t inspired by challenges or experiences that would at first seem particularly thrilling or unique. This niche wouldn’t include Bill Irwin’s narrative of his daring hike on the Appalachian Trail or even Bill Bryson’s more tame trek. Quests books depict the Average Joe or Josie embarking on low-risk—and often curious—missions such as visiting all the Laura Ingalls Wilder locales, washing dishes in every state, learning a musical instrument, knitting, cooking, or coitus. They take a “let’s see what will happen to me if” rather a “look what happened to me way back when” approach to memoir.

Quest books are also more deliberate. Rather than recounting naturally occurring or unforeseen events, the challenges are designed and invited, often including timeframes or other planned parameters. While immersion journalists like Barbara Ehrenreich in Nickel & Dimed or John Howard Griffin in Black Like Me attempt to enter into or replicate known circumstances with reporting an inside perspective as their main goal, quest book narrators are already immersed from the start. Their pre-existing lives are the focus of actions and tests which may or may not produce any significant effect at all but begin with a specific outcome in mind.

While many of these books invoke the idea of a quest in their title, the term seems inflated compared to the quests of classical literature—Odysseus’s ten-year journey home, the Argonaut’s retrieval of the Golden Fleece—or even when compared to modern fiction quests like Frodo’s pursuit of the One Ring. These books embody a unified definition of the term quest that varies from previous definitions within literary criticism. Such redefinition supports the viability of quest books existence as their own subgenre.

The draw of quest books is uncertain, but their proliferation indicates the appeal is genuine. Many deliver more depth and insight than their premises might suggest. Rather than merely chronicling a Brittanica reader’s progress, for example, The Know-It All is a worthwhile discussion of modern perceptions of intelligence, peppered with fascinating facts. In an era of disgraced role models, whether its athletes, politicians, or priests, have we turned our trust to average schmoes to inspire us? Or is the mundaneness of the quest the very thing that appeals—that is, its attainability? How many readers identify with Jacobs in feeling that though they may never be able to climb Mount Everest, they could read a really big book? One bleak explanation for this trend could be an increasing dissatisfaction with our present human existence, dissatisfaction that prompts a growing search for purpose, happiness, and meaning. No matter what the impetus behind the quest books trend, a closer look at what it is we profess to be questing for offers interesting insights into our culture. To that end, the following are books that fall into this new category.

The Know-It All: One Man’s Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World–A.J. Jacobs–2004

Dishwasher: One Man’s Quest to Wash Dishes in All Fifty States–Pete Jordan–2007

The Year of Living Biblically: One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible–A.J. Jacobs–2007

365 Nights: A Memoir of Intimacy–Charla Muller with Betsy Thorpe –2008

Reading the OED: One Man, One Year, 21,730 Pages–Ammon Shea–2008

A Devil to Play: One Man’s Year-Long Quest to Master the Orchestra’s Most Difficult Instrument–Jasper Rees–2009

Julie and Julia–Julie Powell–2009

My Life as an Experiment: One Man’s Humble Quest to Improve Himself by Living as a Woman, Becoming George Washington, Telling No Lies, and Other Radical Tests–A.J. Jacobs–2009

The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun–Gretchen Rubin–2009

The Geography of Bliss: One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World–Eric Weiner–2009

Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously–Adrienne Martini –2010

The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University–Kevin Roose–2010

The One-Week Job Project: One Man, One Year, 52 Jobs–Sean Aiken–2010

The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie–Wendy McClure–2011

My Year with Eleanor–Noelle Hancock–2011

Tolstoy and the Purple Chair: My Year of Magical Reading–Nina Sankovitch–2011

Moonwalking with Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything–Joshua Foer–2011

My Dirty Little Secret: One Man’s Year-Long Quest Not to Masturbate–John Hardman–2011

Drop Dead Healthy: One Man’s Humble Quest for Bodily Perfection–A.J. Jacobs–2012

On Publishing, Views

“So you…acquire things?”

When I tell people I am an acquisitions editor, I get a variety of amusing responses. Perfunctory Joe nods along knowingly but his eyes give him away: he doesn’t understand or care to. Average Joe asks a misguided but expected question: Do I edit books? Finally, Opportunist Joe launches into a breathless sales pitch about his groundbreaking space circus novel, a fusion of sci-fi and memoir—despite the fact that this hybrid genre is galaxies outside my niche. In each case, I sigh and wonder if its worth it to try to explain my job.

So what does it mean to be an acquisitions editor? In traditional publishing companies, acquisitions editors search for the manuscripts that best fit a company’s niche, whether working with agents and other professional contacts or browsing through the “slush” pile of unsolicited manuscripts and proposals. Their knowledge of their market and of what works well for their company coupled with the ability to envision how a book can be turned from straw to gold allows acquisitions editors to narrow down the enormous pool of project ideas into one or two dozen projects.  When a potential winner is found, they promote the project within the company, seeking support from sales, marketing, and other editors before finally negotiating a writing contract.

That doesn’t sound too confusing.  However, it gets more complicated for me because my experience is with a publishing model functioning a bit in reverse.

A book idea traditionally originates with a writer who finds a publisher who finds stores who ideally find readers. Basically the reverse model starts with stores who’ve found reader demand  and who then find publishers who then find writers.

A model like this, which builds on what’s already out there, is not likely to be cutting-edge, but it can still produce quality books that satisfy reader demands. Depending on my mood, I vacillate between calling this the No Guts, No Glory and the Better Safe Than Sorry approach. Does this mean I have no unique book ideas to pitch of my own? Certainly not! But the struggle to get them approved is like trying to get a claustrophobic to go spelunking. It’s similar to the struggle writers under the traditional model face regularly–essentially asking a gambler to bet on you—but in this case I’m asking someone who’s risk-averse.

What this means for Acquisitions is that my “slush” pile is made of people instead of paper. Instead of looking for a good manuscript, I look for a good man or woman–a roster of writers ready and able to meet the needs of preconceived projects. With subjects ranging from crafts to sports to health, history, education, and religion, I work with a big pool of talent of not only writers but also photographers, illustrators, fact checkers, consultants, and stock photo companies –anyone who has what is needed to produce a title. The talent pool is so wide-ranging that even auctioneers and cartographers have taken a dip.

With the talent in place, my role turns back towards the conventional—developing the concept, managing budgets and schedules, negotiating rights and rates, compiling credits and copyright permission, and finally promoting the product. Based on the length of this description though, it’s understandable why I hesitate to explain.