Book releases – the unwrapping of a book in a symbolic act of unleashing hell on an unsuspecting world – are the thing if you aspire to an artsy but not bourgeois reputation. They are the kind of events one responds to on Facebook as: Going, even though you know for sure that you’ll end up sitting at home, tweeting with #OMGQuantico while binge-watching regionally-dubbed episodes of Nagini. And yet, the hallowed institution of book launches and readings endures, possibly because it supports a mini-economy that revolves around the tea-shack closest to the venue. After all, what better excuse for stepping out than needing to buy a pack of mints…or ten.
Before you get the idea that book launches are a washout, let me present evidence – yes, hardcore, scientific evidence – to the contrary. I conducted a rigorous poll of a representative sample of three individuals, including myself. The majority of those polled clearly preferred attending a book launch to a visit to their dentist. Book launches, the respondents observed, have fewer people than a dentist’s waiting room, and are only marginally more painful. True, in terms of choice of reading material, a dental clinic is more likely to beat a book launch any day. But on one count, some book launches, with their time-honoured and inviolable tradition, win hands down: cake. It is, after all, an open secret that everyone (sometimes the author included), is there for exactly that.
You can thank me later for sharing this most well-kept secret of the modern cognoscenti. It’s all about the cake. To be more precise, it is about navigating the minefield to get to the cake, and the famous philosopher Sun Tzu tells us, in his Art of War, exactly how to do that.
Sun Tzu was a Chinese general who lived around the 5th Century BCE. While much about the master tactician is shrouded in antiquity, we can be fairly sure than Master Sun was a book launch veteran. His no-holds-barred approach towards war and conflict has had many a modern-day application – most of it resulting in jazzy things such as competitive advantage or, more importantly, just the right amount of sugar in your cutting chai, and turning the most ignorant of book launch novices into an expert in the next five minutes.
And Sun Tzu’s first injunction is: Know your battlefield
Hidden within that seemingly innocuous Facebook event invite are clear clues as to what to expect from the evening. “An intimate reading” signifies that seven people are expected, two of whom are the author’s friends. “Books available for sale at the event” implies that you are expected to buy a copy before proceeding to partake of any edibles that may be available.
And in no circumstances must you take an invitation to “kindly join us for refreshments after the event” – whether extended in writing or in passing – at face value. It is the strictest warning that those who do not pass the test of endurance and stay right through to the end of the event (and possibly the world as you know it) are not to be fed. Not even cookies.
Which bring us to the next step: Know your enemy
Strictly speaking, the enemy is not quite a despicable wartime opponent, but more of a gentle series of unfortunate incidents that stand between you and your ultimate goal – the cake. (Never forget the cake.) There is the mandatory introduction of the author, usually an incessantly-grinning creature quite recognisable by the tone of disbelief as they greet you with a “thank you for coming.”
It is worth paying attention to this part of the proceedings, interminable as it might be, mostly because picking up a factoid or two can help prolong the post-event “did you say you went to school at…” kind of chit-chat. Done right, such small talk will translate into an invitation to have a second helping of cake (and even get some chocolates to take home).
However, should you find it too daunting a task, be assured that reprieve is not far off. The introduction is invariably followed by a reading – a cheap, highly underrated but effective substitute for sleep therapy. It is quite permissible to nod off during this part of the proceedings, but unless you are absolutely sure that you can blame it on a microphone glitch, try not to snore.
The final challenge that the enemy has set out for you is also the most difficult. Getting through the Q & A – the promised highlight of the evening – will take not only stamina and nerves of steel, but it will also require cunning and diplomacy. And this is where the third precept of The Art of War comes in.
Sun Tzu says (or ought to have said, if he hadn’t): Know yourself
There are those who ask questions, and then there are those who ask questions. Like a patient military commander, wait while the rambling purveyors of great literature display their erudition and linguistic command to the audience at large (a tactic that is also known as hogging airtime).
As an ever-alert soldier should, remain wary of the gushing fan – who unfortunately, is busy praising a book that is not the attending author’s. Both individuals must be handled with tact during the Q & A, but beware! Show them no mercy if they accost you while you stand in line for snacks – it will all be gone by the time you extricate yourself from the potential hostage situation.
And finally, it is well worth remembering that a wise man once observed, presumably speaking with his mouth full: “The tougher the battle, the greater the prize.” You could always do the masala tea and samosas launches, complete with contests, throngs of fans and, possibly, something interesting to write home about. Or you could do the events that come with the ultimate prize. I particularly recommend the ones – dubious as they may be so far as the book goes – that serve Salted Caramel Chocolate Cake. Mine was rather delicious.
Krishna Udayasankar is the author of The Aryavarta Chronicles trilogy, Objects of Affection, 3, and Immortal.