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Muse
From the publisher of Farrar, Straus and Giroux: a first novel, at once hilarious and tender, about the decades-long rivalry between two publishing lions, and the iconic, alluring writer who has obsessed them both.
Paul Dukach is heir apparent at Purcell & Stern, one of the last independent publishing houses in New York, whose shabby offices on Union Square belie the treasures on its list. Working with his boss, the flamboyant Homer Stern, Paul learns the ins and outs of the book trade—how to work an agent over lunch; how to swim with the literary sharks at the Frankfurt Book Fair; and, most important, how to nurse the fragile egos of the dazzling, volatile authors he adores.
But Paul's deepest admiration has always been reserved for one writer: poet Ida Perkins, whose audacious verse and notorious private life have shaped America's contemporary literary landscape, and whose longtime publisher—also her cousin and erstwhile lover—happens to be Homer's biggest rival. And when Paul at last has the chance to meet Ida at her Venetian palazzo, she entrusts him with her greatest secret—one that will change all of their lives forever.
Studded with juicy details only a quintessential insider could know, written with both satiric verve and openhearted nostalgia, Muse is a brilliant, haunting book about the beguiling interplay between life and art, and the eternal romance of literature.
Paul Dukach is heir apparent at Purcell & Stern, one of the last independent publishing houses in New York, whose shabby offices on Union Square belie the treasures on its list. Working with his boss, the flamboyant Homer Stern, Paul learns the ins and outs of the book trade—how to work an agent over lunch; how to swim with the literary sharks at the Frankfurt Book Fair; and, most important, how to nurse the fragile egos of the dazzling, volatile authors he adores.
But Paul's deepest admiration has always been reserved for one writer: poet Ida Perkins, whose audacious verse and notorious private life have shaped America's contemporary literary landscape, and whose longtime publisher—also her cousin and erstwhile lover—happens to be Homer's biggest rival. And when Paul at last has the chance to meet Ida at her Venetian palazzo, she entrusts him with her greatest secret—one that will change all of their lives forever.
Studded with juicy details only a quintessential insider could know, written with both satiric verve and openhearted nostalgia, Muse is a brilliant, haunting book about the beguiling interplay between life and art, and the eternal romance of literature.
260 pages, Hardcover
First published May 27, 2015
37 people are currently reading
1314 people want to read
About the author
Jonathan Galassi
32 books25 followersJonathan Galassi born 1949 in Seattle, Washington, is the President and Publisher of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, one of the eight major publishers in New York. He began his publishing career at Houghton Mifflin in Boston, moved to Random House in New York, and finally, to Farrar, Straus & Giroux. He joined FSG as executive editor in 1985, after being fired from Random House. Two years later, he was named editor-in-chief, and is now President and Publisher.
Galassi is also a translator of poetry and a poet himself. He has translated and published the poetic works of the Italian poets Giacomo Leopardi and Eugenio Montale. His honors as a poet include a 1989 Guggenheim Fellowship, and his activities include having been poetry editor for The Paris Review for ten years, and being an honorary chairman of the Academy of American Poets. He has published poems in literary journals and magazines including Threepenny Review, The New Yorker, The Nation and the Poetry Foundation website.
Galassi graduated from Phillips Exeter Academy where he became interested in poetry, writing and literature, and from Harvard College in 1971. He was a Marshall Scholar at Christ's College, Cambridge. He realized while attending Christ’s College that he wanted a career in book publishing. Galassi was born in Seattle (his father worked as an attorney for the Justice Department), but he grew up in Plympton, Massachusetts. He lives in Brooklyn.
Galassi is also a translator of poetry and a poet himself. He has translated and published the poetic works of the Italian poets Giacomo Leopardi and Eugenio Montale. His honors as a poet include a 1989 Guggenheim Fellowship, and his activities include having been poetry editor for The Paris Review for ten years, and being an honorary chairman of the Academy of American Poets. He has published poems in literary journals and magazines including Threepenny Review, The New Yorker, The Nation and the Poetry Foundation website.
Galassi graduated from Phillips Exeter Academy where he became interested in poetry, writing and literature, and from Harvard College in 1971. He was a Marshall Scholar at Christ's College, Cambridge. He realized while attending Christ’s College that he wanted a career in book publishing. Galassi was born in Seattle (his father worked as an attorney for the Justice Department), but he grew up in Plympton, Massachusetts. He lives in Brooklyn.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 118 reviews
March 6, 2023
Poetry geeks will enjoy the hide and seek references to poets and authors in this slightly rambling but likeable jaunt into books and publishing, although Galassi tends to end up in more rabbit holes than necessary in his earnest attempts to please.
Still, there’s a lot of fun to be had here if you don’t take it all too seriously and the author appears to have enjoyed himself hugely in the writing process as well.
Still, there’s a lot of fun to be had here if you don’t take it all too seriously and the author appears to have enjoyed himself hugely in the writing process as well.
January 10, 2016
Many of the poor notices given to MUSE allude to the boredom of it. It is true, it is boring. But while remaining an incontrovertible defect, this is surely one of its lesser offenses to good aesthetic judgment. Firstly, it is strange that an editor writes a book that is filled so uniformly with clichéd idioms. Opened to any page at random, MUSE yields up its bromides. Ladies men are 'handsome and charming', WASPs are 'card-carrying', a work experience is 'peaches and cream', poems are 'hypnotically lyrical,' and most tiresomely, love, as it is insisted, is not 'productive'. (The review at the New Republic has a bunch more; there are, unfortunately, plenty for everyone.) The tone of the book is constantly gushing yet conventional, florid yet buzzy and platitudinous. As I read it, knowing of this man's authority in our world of books, it reminded me of the queasy feeling you get as a kid when your high-school music teacher 'goes wild' on the saxophone at a school assembly, tootling and trilling his heart out, squandering his ethos and authority in a way that cannot be undone.
That the book is written in such poor language (by an oft-published poet, no less!) is nothing, though, compared to the larger bill of goods for sale here. Galassi wants you to imagine that this world he insists on calling 'glamorous', will take on a glamorous identity merely by his constant reiteration of the invocation. It is as though the author believed that accumulation of allusions could hide the essential emptiness, the lack of imaginative coherency, in what he describes. I began to have the suspicion that the publishing world in its modern incarnation has disappointed Jonathan Galassi, and so he hopes, by cobbling together such a novel, to call back, as at a séance, the ghost of the alluring. And yet the poverty of his means of doing so, which has to do with the essential conventionality of his system of values, the fetishistic overvaluation of literary genius which results, paradoxically, in its devaluation, his apparently inexhaustible vulnerability to cults of personality, and his cowardly, rather clubby recycling of themes long threadbare, all make this reader feel that perhaps the downfall of the 'good old days' of publishing that Galassi so keenly, so nostalgically decries, was in part a development brought on by the lurking unoriginality of Jonathan Galassi himself.
This book has troubled me for a few days now. As many readers have pointed out, much of the book is taken up with kitchen-sink reminiscences of ‘dazzling figures’ old wealthy, good old boys and gals, all ‘legendary’ for their ‘eccentricity’. And yet when this lop-sided construction, in which the action doesn’t start until the book is two-thirds done and then abruptly reaches a premature climax, only to limp on and on, into meandering afterward-style chattering-on, all these figures have made no impression at all, their ‘eccentricities’ have been forgettable, their life stories clumsily conventional and soporifically journalistic. Throughout this work, Galassi mistakes celebrity for character, nostalgia for beauty, and most fatally, sensation for action. And I asked myself: How can it be that Galassi--president of the stalwart FSG, one-time poetry editor at the Paris Review--offers as his tribute to the values of real literature a lazy, fogged out, unconsidered work? How can a person in his position not care more?
Having meditated for some time, the only theory I have come up with to explain it is the possibility that Galassi has locked himself inside a contradiction. It is possible, given his position, that he accepts or has been forced to accept the most fundamental axioms of the literary marketplace he inhabits, a world that, while not entirely gone to pot, is uncoupled from the forces which allow or even require the natural daily exercise of the muscle of rigorous aesthetic judgment. From things explicitly stated in his text, it is clear Galassi knows this truth as well as I, and probably far better. And yet, apparently fundamentally conservative and peaceable, he accepts these terms, these axioms, all the same. The French philosopher Alain Badiou suggests that there is a link between holding a self-contradictory position, and melancholy. A person who "accepts the fundamental axioms of [their] society while bitterly complaining about the consequences of those same axioms [...] will become more and more melancholy." Perhaps it is Galassi's frustrated relationship with the _living_ values of great literature that makes him retreat to a clumsy, highly melancholy celebration of books, via the cult of confabulated fame and humbug personality. Certainly, this reader never believed in Ida Perkins. But he does believe in something else -- something better.
That the book is written in such poor language (by an oft-published poet, no less!) is nothing, though, compared to the larger bill of goods for sale here. Galassi wants you to imagine that this world he insists on calling 'glamorous', will take on a glamorous identity merely by his constant reiteration of the invocation. It is as though the author believed that accumulation of allusions could hide the essential emptiness, the lack of imaginative coherency, in what he describes. I began to have the suspicion that the publishing world in its modern incarnation has disappointed Jonathan Galassi, and so he hopes, by cobbling together such a novel, to call back, as at a séance, the ghost of the alluring. And yet the poverty of his means of doing so, which has to do with the essential conventionality of his system of values, the fetishistic overvaluation of literary genius which results, paradoxically, in its devaluation, his apparently inexhaustible vulnerability to cults of personality, and his cowardly, rather clubby recycling of themes long threadbare, all make this reader feel that perhaps the downfall of the 'good old days' of publishing that Galassi so keenly, so nostalgically decries, was in part a development brought on by the lurking unoriginality of Jonathan Galassi himself.
This book has troubled me for a few days now. As many readers have pointed out, much of the book is taken up with kitchen-sink reminiscences of ‘dazzling figures’ old wealthy, good old boys and gals, all ‘legendary’ for their ‘eccentricity’. And yet when this lop-sided construction, in which the action doesn’t start until the book is two-thirds done and then abruptly reaches a premature climax, only to limp on and on, into meandering afterward-style chattering-on, all these figures have made no impression at all, their ‘eccentricities’ have been forgettable, their life stories clumsily conventional and soporifically journalistic. Throughout this work, Galassi mistakes celebrity for character, nostalgia for beauty, and most fatally, sensation for action. And I asked myself: How can it be that Galassi--president of the stalwart FSG, one-time poetry editor at the Paris Review--offers as his tribute to the values of real literature a lazy, fogged out, unconsidered work? How can a person in his position not care more?
Having meditated for some time, the only theory I have come up with to explain it is the possibility that Galassi has locked himself inside a contradiction. It is possible, given his position, that he accepts or has been forced to accept the most fundamental axioms of the literary marketplace he inhabits, a world that, while not entirely gone to pot, is uncoupled from the forces which allow or even require the natural daily exercise of the muscle of rigorous aesthetic judgment. From things explicitly stated in his text, it is clear Galassi knows this truth as well as I, and probably far better. And yet, apparently fundamentally conservative and peaceable, he accepts these terms, these axioms, all the same. The French philosopher Alain Badiou suggests that there is a link between holding a self-contradictory position, and melancholy. A person who "accepts the fundamental axioms of [their] society while bitterly complaining about the consequences of those same axioms [...] will become more and more melancholy." Perhaps it is Galassi's frustrated relationship with the _living_ values of great literature that makes him retreat to a clumsy, highly melancholy celebration of books, via the cult of confabulated fame and humbug personality. Certainly, this reader never believed in Ida Perkins. But he does believe in something else -- something better.
November 7, 2015
“It was not where or who you came from but what you did with your own grab bag of advantages and disadvantages that made you remarkable. He’d learned early on in his work that the real writers hadn’t gone to Yale or Oxford; they came from everywhere - or nowhere – and their determination to dig down, to matter, whatever the odds against them, was the only key to their succeeding”
Muse is the first novel by American poet, translator and publisher of iconic Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Jonathan Galassi. The only literature-appreciating member of his decidedly non-literary family, a teen-aged Paul Dukach takes refuge in Pages, the local bookstore. When proprietress, Morgan Dickerman introduces him to the poetry of Ida Perkins, it is the beginning of a life-long passion. He devours her work and becomes a fanatical expert on all there is to know about this elusive woman who was”… literally enamored with art – arguably less so with the individuals who created it, who often turned out to have inconvenient needs and egos of their own, which on occasion dwarfed even hers”
On graduation from college, Paul eventually finds employment with independent publisher, Purcell and Stern, learning a great deal from his boss, the brash but knowledgeable Homer Stern: “Sexual activity for Homer was an index of moral fallibility and vitality at one and the same time. It didn’t matter what people did; he was sure they did something illicit. It meant they were alive, like him. Maybe he was simply looking for companionship in transgression”. Paul also gets to know Stern’s arch-rival, Sterling Wainwright, Ida’s second cousin and publisher of all her works.
On the way home from a European book fair (“Frankfurt [Book Fair] was anything but social; it was carnivorousness at its most rapacious, with a genteel European veneer. The dressy clothes, the parties, the cigars, the jacked-up prices in the hotels and restaurants, the disappointing food were all of a piece. It was exhausting and repetitive and depressing – and no one in publishing with any sense or style would have missed it for the world”), Paul finally gets the opportunity to meet his idol, now reclusive for many years in Venice.
He finds that Venice “… wasn’t dead at all. Venice was a Platonic beehive buzzing with covert vitality. Its fabulous gilt-encrusted past wasn’t the point; it was how the past kept gnawing away at the present, digesting and fermenting and reforming it, and extruding it into the future”. And for some reason, Ida takes him into her confidence, entrusting him with an explosive secret. “Ida had surely been no saint…Ida had been guileless and wilful, passionate and snobbish, generous, great-hearted, self-seeking, myopic, petty” This he knew, but now he faces a dilemma.
Galassi’s extensive experience in both the publishing industry and as a poet are apparent on every page. He peoples his novel with a cast of highly believable authors, editors and publishers that, no doubt, bear more than a passing resemblance to figures in the actual literary industry. Of his publishers, he says: “Their authors and their work had been the ultimate raison d’etre for whatever they themselves had done. Beyond their petty self-aggrandizing, Homer and Sterling and their kind had been true to their writers’ gifts. …Their authors were their gods…”. He completes the effect with a bibliography of Ida’s works and books about her. This is quite a debut novel, one that will have a broad appeal, but in particular to those involved in the industry. Outstanding.
Muse is the first novel by American poet, translator and publisher of iconic Farrar, Straus and Giroux, Jonathan Galassi. The only literature-appreciating member of his decidedly non-literary family, a teen-aged Paul Dukach takes refuge in Pages, the local bookstore. When proprietress, Morgan Dickerman introduces him to the poetry of Ida Perkins, it is the beginning of a life-long passion. He devours her work and becomes a fanatical expert on all there is to know about this elusive woman who was”… literally enamored with art – arguably less so with the individuals who created it, who often turned out to have inconvenient needs and egos of their own, which on occasion dwarfed even hers”
On graduation from college, Paul eventually finds employment with independent publisher, Purcell and Stern, learning a great deal from his boss, the brash but knowledgeable Homer Stern: “Sexual activity for Homer was an index of moral fallibility and vitality at one and the same time. It didn’t matter what people did; he was sure they did something illicit. It meant they were alive, like him. Maybe he was simply looking for companionship in transgression”. Paul also gets to know Stern’s arch-rival, Sterling Wainwright, Ida’s second cousin and publisher of all her works.
On the way home from a European book fair (“Frankfurt [Book Fair] was anything but social; it was carnivorousness at its most rapacious, with a genteel European veneer. The dressy clothes, the parties, the cigars, the jacked-up prices in the hotels and restaurants, the disappointing food were all of a piece. It was exhausting and repetitive and depressing – and no one in publishing with any sense or style would have missed it for the world”), Paul finally gets the opportunity to meet his idol, now reclusive for many years in Venice.
He finds that Venice “… wasn’t dead at all. Venice was a Platonic beehive buzzing with covert vitality. Its fabulous gilt-encrusted past wasn’t the point; it was how the past kept gnawing away at the present, digesting and fermenting and reforming it, and extruding it into the future”. And for some reason, Ida takes him into her confidence, entrusting him with an explosive secret. “Ida had surely been no saint…Ida had been guileless and wilful, passionate and snobbish, generous, great-hearted, self-seeking, myopic, petty” This he knew, but now he faces a dilemma.
Galassi’s extensive experience in both the publishing industry and as a poet are apparent on every page. He peoples his novel with a cast of highly believable authors, editors and publishers that, no doubt, bear more than a passing resemblance to figures in the actual literary industry. Of his publishers, he says: “Their authors and their work had been the ultimate raison d’etre for whatever they themselves had done. Beyond their petty self-aggrandizing, Homer and Sterling and their kind had been true to their writers’ gifts. …Their authors were their gods…”. He completes the effect with a bibliography of Ida’s works and books about her. This is quite a debut novel, one that will have a broad appeal, but in particular to those involved in the industry. Outstanding.
June 29, 2015
Unless you are an elder employee of a large publishing company or a highly published, wealthy author familiar with the history of the publishing industry, you will struggle to find an enjoyable aspect of this book until about 3/4 of the way through where the characters become more important than the author showing off his knowledge of the publishing industry, which admittedly, is extensive and intelligent, but snore-able.
August 9, 2015
Writing a critical word about anything having to do with anything even close to Jonathan Galassi feels like sacrilege to this publishing industry veteran...so let it suffice to say here that this book is a publishing geek's delight, and a common reader's disappointment. The inside-baseball goss about the business is delicious to those in the know...but the book takes too long to get its (fascinating) plot going and this will be an irritation to the civilian reader.
March 19, 2024
Galassi's Muse has dramatic characters but no drama. The novel is a pageant of egotistical editors, mercurial publishers, narcissistic writers, enigmatic poets—but none of this ever turns into a compelling narrative. Its intriguing premise fails to build narrative intrigue; there is mystery but never suspense. Paul is a recent graduate turned editorial assistant at a small literary publisher, S&P, ruled by an imperious impresario of an editor, Homer, a man more interested in sex and gossip than in literary art and fashion. A boastful bully, he castigates his rivals, fawns over new darlings, constantly makes ribald jokes, and presides over the Hamburg publishing festival with his captivating bravura—but he rarely reads. For years he has tried in vain to secure the rights to one of the major poets of the day, an Ida Perkins, a lyric bard and literary provocateur, a celebrity whose poetry is famous and affairs notorious. For years Paul has been an obsessed aficionado of her work and, with his youthful esprit and desire to prove himself, he sets about trying to meet her. In the process, he has to crack a code, ingratiate himself with a rival publisher, travel to Venice, and uncover a shocking affair.
It has all the parts for an excellent story (scandalous affairs, family betrayals, maniacal literati, feuding authors, cryptographic journals, secret manuscripts) but Galassi misassembles the machinery. There's never any narrative stakes or suspense: Paul just wanders around, meets zany characters, makes serendipitous discoveries, and none of it seems particularly consequential. There are entertaining portraits of bizarre editors and eccentric authors but overall it's a saccharine cartoonish book, a satirical prosopography of the publishing world that never really shows their oversize personalities in action. Galassi's School Days is a much stronger novel, deftly balancing character and plot.
It has all the parts for an excellent story (scandalous affairs, family betrayals, maniacal literati, feuding authors, cryptographic journals, secret manuscripts) but Galassi misassembles the machinery. There's never any narrative stakes or suspense: Paul just wanders around, meets zany characters, makes serendipitous discoveries, and none of it seems particularly consequential. There are entertaining portraits of bizarre editors and eccentric authors but overall it's a saccharine cartoonish book, a satirical prosopography of the publishing world that never really shows their oversize personalities in action. Galassi's School Days is a much stronger novel, deftly balancing character and plot.
September 24, 2024
"This is a love story. It's about the good old days, when men were men and women were women and books were books, with glued or even sewn bindings, cloth or paper covers with beautiful or not-so-beautiful jackets and a musty, dusty, wonderful smell; when books furnished many a room, and their contents, the magic words, their poetry and prose, were liquor, perfume, sex, and glory to their devotees. These loyal readers were never many but they were always engaged, always audible and visible, alive to the romance of reading. Perhaps they still exist underground somewhere, hidden fanatics of the cult of the printed word."
This is an insider's descriptive tale and a drama of the publishing industry where two houses compete for one iconic poet, told in rich, lyrical prose with a colorful cast of New York eccentrics, homosexuals and Communists. Another reviewer lamented the book's lack of simple sentences, but that's what I enjoyed most about this quick and engrossing read. The writing weaves layers of allusions, details and anecdotes together to create a realistic, crystal-sharp world full of love affairs, lives, the passage of time and the tragedies that all revolve around books. A solid debut novel of passion-driven intellectuals and self-made men that's entertaining enough to read on the beach and intelligent enough to keep on the bookshelf.
October 18, 2016
'Musa' es una novela en clave sobre el mundo de la edición independiente que no oculta sus miserias, un canto a una época que las grandes empresas de Internet acaban devorando al tiempo que se acaban sus páginas. Pero también es la historia de una fascinación por los escritores, por hacer colección de ellos a través de la publicación de sus obras. Y es Ida Vitale, oculta tras otro nombre, la que representa con su vida la historia literaria del siglo XX, quizás el último en el que se ha apreciado la edición como una de las bellas artes.
October 17, 2015
Didn't finish. This book seems to be the self involved musings of a publisher and poet trying to prove that he knows more than anyone about publishing and poets. I'm convinced but bored to tears. No thanks
September 1, 2015
I expected this take on the inner workings of the publishing industry, written by someone who has been on both sides of the fence, as a publisher and a poet, to be snarky and all-knowing. What I did not expect is how charming and delightful a novel it is. Muse is a love letter to the halcyon days of an industry where publishers were larger-than-life, and often more notorious than the authors they represented.
I always read reviews prior to embarking on a new book, mainly to get a feel of what people in general think (as opposed to prejudging an author or forming advance opinions.) In this case, a lot of reviewers bemoaned the fact that their enjoyment of Muse was affectively hobbled by Jonathan Galassi’s insider knowledge.
Yes, there is a whole level of allusion here that definitely escaped me. A cursory glance at Galassi’s biography reveals that he heads up Farrar, Straus and Giroux, which he joined in 1985 after being fired from Random House, for reasons I cannot discern.
If this had been another kind of book, Galassi would have loaded it to the teeth with broadside salvos aimed at the mercenary industry that had rejected him at one stage. Instead, the book opens with the following declaration: “This is a love story. It’s about the good old days, when men were men and women were women and books were books.”
Of course, this means real books, not e-books, which come in for some of the funniest ribbing towards the end, when Paul has a brief relationship with Rufus from Medusa, a clear reference to Amazon: “Content was king at Medusa, they claimed, but Rufus’s expertise ran more to genre novelists and management gurus than literary writers.”
While Galassi highlights the intrinsic appeal of this shiny new world, he also laments its inadequacies:
Paul was enchanted by the lingo of Rufus’s world: big data, scalability, pivoting, crowdsourcing, virtual convergence, geo-location, but before too long he came to understand that everything his guy was talking about – platforms and delivery systems and mini-books and nanotech and page rates and and and – had very little to do with what mattered to Paul, which was the words themselves and the men and women who’d written.
And, one might add, the men and women who champion them. This is not to suggest that Galassi paints a rosy-hued portrait of publishing: “The Impetus offices, in a venerable Meatpacking District building not far from Sterling’s apartment, were at least as scruffy as P&S’s, with upholstery that looked lice-infested and filthy walls that had not been washed, let along painted, in forty years.”
Providing a link between the two rival publishers of Impetus and P&S is the character of Paul, who idolises the work of a particular poet published by his boss’s nemesis. The plot kicks into high gear when he has a meeting with his literary idol, a meeting that not only changes a life-time’s worth of fanciful conjecture about her, but which also sees him bestowed with an explosive secret, like a ticking time bomb, set to destroy his world and its dinosaurs.
There are fantastic set pieces, such as a warts-and-all depiction of the Frankfurt Book Fair, while Galassi’s descriptions of Venice are achingly beautiful. I also loved the way he addresses such issues as attracting the ‘right’ readers and dealing with the ‘cult of personality’.
As much as Muse is a lament for this bygone era, it is equally a celebration of writers, publishers and readers, indeed the entire madcap magic circle that begins and ends every time a single book is opened and closed.
I always read reviews prior to embarking on a new book, mainly to get a feel of what people in general think (as opposed to prejudging an author or forming advance opinions.) In this case, a lot of reviewers bemoaned the fact that their enjoyment of Muse was affectively hobbled by Jonathan Galassi’s insider knowledge.
Yes, there is a whole level of allusion here that definitely escaped me. A cursory glance at Galassi’s biography reveals that he heads up Farrar, Straus and Giroux, which he joined in 1985 after being fired from Random House, for reasons I cannot discern.
If this had been another kind of book, Galassi would have loaded it to the teeth with broadside salvos aimed at the mercenary industry that had rejected him at one stage. Instead, the book opens with the following declaration: “This is a love story. It’s about the good old days, when men were men and women were women and books were books.”
Of course, this means real books, not e-books, which come in for some of the funniest ribbing towards the end, when Paul has a brief relationship with Rufus from Medusa, a clear reference to Amazon: “Content was king at Medusa, they claimed, but Rufus’s expertise ran more to genre novelists and management gurus than literary writers.”
While Galassi highlights the intrinsic appeal of this shiny new world, he also laments its inadequacies:
Paul was enchanted by the lingo of Rufus’s world: big data, scalability, pivoting, crowdsourcing, virtual convergence, geo-location, but before too long he came to understand that everything his guy was talking about – platforms and delivery systems and mini-books and nanotech and page rates and and and – had very little to do with what mattered to Paul, which was the words themselves and the men and women who’d written.
And, one might add, the men and women who champion them. This is not to suggest that Galassi paints a rosy-hued portrait of publishing: “The Impetus offices, in a venerable Meatpacking District building not far from Sterling’s apartment, were at least as scruffy as P&S’s, with upholstery that looked lice-infested and filthy walls that had not been washed, let along painted, in forty years.”
Providing a link between the two rival publishers of Impetus and P&S is the character of Paul, who idolises the work of a particular poet published by his boss’s nemesis. The plot kicks into high gear when he has a meeting with his literary idol, a meeting that not only changes a life-time’s worth of fanciful conjecture about her, but which also sees him bestowed with an explosive secret, like a ticking time bomb, set to destroy his world and its dinosaurs.
There are fantastic set pieces, such as a warts-and-all depiction of the Frankfurt Book Fair, while Galassi’s descriptions of Venice are achingly beautiful. I also loved the way he addresses such issues as attracting the ‘right’ readers and dealing with the ‘cult of personality’.
As much as Muse is a lament for this bygone era, it is equally a celebration of writers, publishers and readers, indeed the entire madcap magic circle that begins and ends every time a single book is opened and closed.
April 21, 2017
I obtained this title free of charge from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Jonathan Galassi knows what he's talking about. Muse turns the peculiar world of publishing inside-out, and presents a broad, hilarious, and unbelievably believable cast of characters for the reader's examination. This is the best part of the book; Galassi's portrait of the literati is at once poignant, irreverent, and scathingly funny. If you've ever wondered what the book business looks like from the inside, this is a great place to start. However, if you don't have an abiding interest in the publishing industry, you might not find it quite so enthralling. Galassi's characters leap off the page, but anyone looking for a strong narrative thread to follow may be frustrated. There's definitely a plot, but what actually happens is much less interesting than the people it happens to. The ending feels a little too tidy for such a messy group of people, and even though nearly everyone is dead by the time you turn the last page, there's no real sense of closure. Still, that didn't keep me from enjoying this book immensely. A good read for anyone with an abiding interest in books.
Jonathan Galassi knows what he's talking about. Muse turns the peculiar world of publishing inside-out, and presents a broad, hilarious, and unbelievably believable cast of characters for the reader's examination. This is the best part of the book; Galassi's portrait of the literati is at once poignant, irreverent, and scathingly funny. If you've ever wondered what the book business looks like from the inside, this is a great place to start. However, if you don't have an abiding interest in the publishing industry, you might not find it quite so enthralling. Galassi's characters leap off the page, but anyone looking for a strong narrative thread to follow may be frustrated. There's definitely a plot, but what actually happens is much less interesting than the people it happens to. The ending feels a little too tidy for such a messy group of people, and even though nearly everyone is dead by the time you turn the last page, there's no real sense of closure. Still, that didn't keep me from enjoying this book immensely. A good read for anyone with an abiding interest in books.
December 28, 2016
Un roman aux allures d'essai sur les coulisses du monde de l'édition new-yorkaise des années 50 à nos jours, qui regorge d'anecdotes caustiques et terriblement d'actualité.
Ce roman n'est toutefois peut-être pas destiné à tous les lecteurs, mais à un public déjà aguerri, ou tout du moins que le sujet intéresse en détails.
Peut-être les trop longs passages biographiques sur la poétesse Ida Perkins et les nombreux autres protagonistes du livre peuvent alourdir le récit, même s'ils ne le rendent que plus intéressant pour un lecteur averti.
Ce roman n'est toutefois peut-être pas destiné à tous les lecteurs, mais à un public déjà aguerri, ou tout du moins que le sujet intéresse en détails.
Peut-être les trop longs passages biographiques sur la poétesse Ida Perkins et les nombreux autres protagonistes du livre peuvent alourdir le récit, même s'ils ne le rendent que plus intéressant pour un lecteur averti.
May 13, 2021
At page 79 I found the first real scene, everything else till this point was narrating I skimmed through. As a freelance editor I sometimes encounter texts like this and gently nudge the author into a coaching on how to craft a book that is engaging and draws the reader in, avoiding infodumps. I'm sure this was done on porpose (otherwise I had to doubt all I ever learned about writing and publishing). There are examples of books breaking every rule of writing and still be interesting, engaging, emotional etc - this is not one of them. It failed to grab me at any point even after it started "for real" at p. 79. So after two more chapters I decided not to waste my time even if some reviews promise the ending would be worthwhile. Only good thing: After the foreword ("It's about the good old days, when men were men and women were women and books were books ...") I feared to encounter some real despicable misageny, but one character aside that wasn't the case. Lowest bar ever.
April 17, 2021
"Muse" is supposed to be about publishing, writing, editing, and a particular poet who steals (?) the attention of one publisher in particular.
The book jacket describes it as "Studded with juicy details only a quintessential insider could know..." and that's what made it so hard to get into for me. I didn't finish the book.
I was maybe 50 pages in and saw more "tell" than "show. For a book about writing -- yes, I know there was a plot to it in there somewhere -- the story didn't unfold fast enough for me. Those rivalries between characters I'm sure were meant to set me up for the story, but I just couldn't get into it.
The book jacket describes it as "Studded with juicy details only a quintessential insider could know..." and that's what made it so hard to get into for me. I didn't finish the book.
I was maybe 50 pages in and saw more "tell" than "show. For a book about writing -- yes, I know there was a plot to it in there somewhere -- the story didn't unfold fast enough for me. Those rivalries between characters I'm sure were meant to set me up for the story, but I just couldn't get into it.
February 1, 2025
Man ertrinkt in Klischees und müden Redewendungen und wenn man sich kurz unterhalten fühlt, wird es bald von einem weiteren unimaginativen Klischee zunichte gemacht. Am Ende hat der Protagonist für 20 Seiten einen Freund der Ebooks publiziert, anscheinend nur, damit sich der Autor über Ebooks aufregen kann.
June 20, 2015
I received a copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
This novel seemed to me to be almost two books – the first 65%, which didn’t work for me in the slightest bit, and the last 35%, which worked incredibly well.
For the first 65%, I felt as if I was Nick Carraway in “The Great Gatsby”. I was given access to a world populated by those with money and means. A literary world, full of allusions which I didn’t understand. I felt like a complete outsider to this world. I expected to get used to it the longer I visited, but instead I just got more and more frustrated. This part seemed to be filled with blustery run on sentences, filled with appositives and superlatives that never ended. I actually tried to find a simple sentence and didn’t.
I admit I checked other reviews to see if this was just me or if others felt
the same, and I understand that I am in the minority. I have heard others rave about this book, saying that it’s a glimpse into the publishing world. I agree that seemed to be the gist. But it seemed to me that Paul was so wrapped up in being literary and being important that there wasn’t enough attention paid to Paul being an individual. In fact, one other reviewer said that you have to basically be patient and wait for the book to improve. Which it does, in spades.
Once Paul actually got to meet the reclusive Ida Perkins, the entire book starts to make sense. I understood his motivation, and I could use parts from the first part of the book to understand his actions. This part of the book flew by, as I was just as interested in Paul’s quest for information and details as he was. Although I’m not a poetry person by any means, I loved Ida’s final manuscript. I thought the poems were brilliant and I’m considering searching out other volumes of poetry for later reading.
Unfortunately, I cannot say that I enjoyed enough of the book to recommend it. But for a debut novelist to get me to read poetry is indeed an accomplishment.
This novel seemed to me to be almost two books – the first 65%, which didn’t work for me in the slightest bit, and the last 35%, which worked incredibly well.
For the first 65%, I felt as if I was Nick Carraway in “The Great Gatsby”. I was given access to a world populated by those with money and means. A literary world, full of allusions which I didn’t understand. I felt like a complete outsider to this world. I expected to get used to it the longer I visited, but instead I just got more and more frustrated. This part seemed to be filled with blustery run on sentences, filled with appositives and superlatives that never ended. I actually tried to find a simple sentence and didn’t.
I admit I checked other reviews to see if this was just me or if others felt
the same, and I understand that I am in the minority. I have heard others rave about this book, saying that it’s a glimpse into the publishing world. I agree that seemed to be the gist. But it seemed to me that Paul was so wrapped up in being literary and being important that there wasn’t enough attention paid to Paul being an individual. In fact, one other reviewer said that you have to basically be patient and wait for the book to improve. Which it does, in spades.
Once Paul actually got to meet the reclusive Ida Perkins, the entire book starts to make sense. I understood his motivation, and I could use parts from the first part of the book to understand his actions. This part of the book flew by, as I was just as interested in Paul’s quest for information and details as he was. Although I’m not a poetry person by any means, I loved Ida’s final manuscript. I thought the poems were brilliant and I’m considering searching out other volumes of poetry for later reading.
Unfortunately, I cannot say that I enjoyed enough of the book to recommend it. But for a debut novelist to get me to read poetry is indeed an accomplishment.
November 20, 2017
Conquistato dalla sinossi e dalla copertina, pensavo di aver centrato l'obiettivo, ma quando ho intravisto i giudizi su anobii, ho capito che anche stavolta mi ero fatto infinocchiare da delle lusinghe, da delle perline colorate. Iniziata la lettura tutto sembrava confermare questa ipotesi, tant'è che mi sono meravigliato di non averlo mollato, come faccio ultimamente con molti libri. Il fatto è che trattava di editoria ed era ben scritto, per quanto fosse un po' vacuo e votato al pettegolezzo. Che cosa è cambiato dopo? Non lo so, forse niente, per me questo è un romanzo originale e intenso, anche se eccessivo. La musa stessa, la poetessa Ida Perkins, per quanto sia affascinante, è concettualmente superficiale. Perché è tanto straordinaria? Perché va a letto con tutti?... Anch'io amo l'arte, ma l'arte come bellezza, come forza generatrice, non idolatro un artista come se fosse un'icona. Mi sembra un atteggiamento troppo feticistico, che smarrisce l'equilibrio generale. L'arte si base sulle differenze e su delle splendide interpretazioni fatte da dei grandi artisti, non sull'esaltazione di questo o dell'altro, quasi fosse una squadra di calcio. Anche se poi in certi momenti anch'io ho un debole per taluni artisti, ed è normale. Ma non ne resto per sempre ammaliato. Mi spiego?... Questo è solo il mio giudizio e ognuno è libero di pensarla come vuole, è ovvio. Approvo l'idea di inserire delle poesie nel romanzo, anche se, da quel poco che capisco di versi, non mi sembrano esaltanti. Direi comunque che, per chi ama i libri, pur con i suddetti difetti, è un romanzo che si lascia leggere.
August 17, 2015
Every poet (or every person with a poet's soul) who has even a hint of nostalgia for a poetry world that is almost gone by should read Jonathan Galassi's MUSE, a roman a clef novel about a young man in the publishing world and a poet of such fantastic renown she'd be Edna St. Vincent Millay (who read to audiences of thousands) AND Elizabeth Bishop, but with a reputation ratcheted up to, say, Meryl Streep. But much more warmly interesting is the young editor and narrator of the novel as he portrays (and, with finesse, betrays) the life inside two publishing houses. Galassi is so witty that his moments of profundity are surprises, delicious ones. I listened to MUSE on Audible.com and the narrator, Arthur Morey, was pitch perfect.
April 5, 2018
"Muse" is the first book by Jonathan Galassi that I've read, and I hope that this book isn't typical of his publications. Although it is a good introduction to the world of publishing, I've read others that were more intriguing and kept my interest better, such as those by publishers themselves - the Knopf family, for example - I will say that I enjoyed Galassi's style and the portrait of his leading character, Paul. But if I had had thoughts of writing a book and getting it published, or of entering the publishing field itself, after reading this book I'd be rather discouraged.
Final asssessment: Not so great, but I'd recommend it to those of my friends who enjoy books about the publishing business and the struggles of getting your book published.
Final asssessment: Not so great, but I'd recommend it to those of my friends who enjoy books about the publishing business and the struggles of getting your book published.
August 1, 2016
Me parece un libro fascinante. Es muy entretenido leer una novela sobre el mundo de la edición, reconocer nombres y situaciones míticas; en fin, espiar por una ventana que desde la distancia parece tan llena de misticismo y misterio. Sin embargo creo que se trata de un libro de poco interés para un público que no esté obsesionado o vinculado de algún modo con este universo. El "name dropping" es por momentos agotador y las anécdotas difícilmente tendrán un interés universal.
En resumen: para todo aquel que tenga un interés particular en la edición y sobre todo la edición en Norteamérica este libro resultará interesante, para el resto de los lectores probablemente sea una decepción.
En resumen: para todo aquel que tenga un interés particular en la edición y sobre todo la edición en Norteamérica este libro resultará interesante, para el resto de los lectores probablemente sea una decepción.
July 29, 2015
For best results, start on page 85.
You know how in the Bible there are chapters that spend sixty-five lines telling who begat whom? The first part of this book is like that. All you need to know is that Stern and Homer own two competing indie presses and both want to publish the fictional but fabulous Ida Perkins. Paul works for Homer but is friendly with Stern. He's also fascinated by Ida.
I can't even describe how odd it is for me to have such a good book emerge after I nearly quit it three times. The poetry in the end is interesting and the endgame is great. Just start on page 85.
You know how in the Bible there are chapters that spend sixty-five lines telling who begat whom? The first part of this book is like that. All you need to know is that Stern and Homer own two competing indie presses and both want to publish the fictional but fabulous Ida Perkins. Paul works for Homer but is friendly with Stern. He's also fascinated by Ida.
I can't even describe how odd it is for me to have such a good book emerge after I nearly quit it three times. The poetry in the end is interesting and the endgame is great. Just start on page 85.
August 4, 2016
2,5
It was filled with unknown (to me) names and companies and trends and so on, that is probably the reason the better half of the book wasn't well understood by me but the last part of it was quite tragic and interesting and I was touched by Ida P's poetry - its' simplicity reminded me of Russian 19th century classics (like Pushkin).
It was filled with unknown (to me) names and companies and trends and so on, that is probably the reason the better half of the book wasn't well understood by me but the last part of it was quite tragic and interesting and I was touched by Ida P's poetry - its' simplicity reminded me of Russian 19th century classics (like Pushkin).
October 25, 2016
Fast read, almost lyrical prose. I felt like an outsider to a club for book lovers that I desperately wanted to belong to. Especially after the introduction. Pick me pick me!!! Although I never quite got inside as I had hoped I would with continued reading, I did feel the emotion that the author feels for books, poetry, and the fictionalized Ida, who I look forward to reading in 2020.
July 11, 2015
Ugh. A long-winded, name-dropping inside joke for deep publishing insiders. Plot only emerges in the second half, and is interesting - a dude gets to publish a famous poet's last manuscript. But not enough to save this sleep-inducing novel.
July 23, 2015
I just don't know who the intended reader of this book was. It certainly wasn't me. There are lovely moments, but for me, they were only moments. Good writing and good poetry, but they didn't carry the story enough.
August 20, 2015
If you are not as obsessed with books and the publishing industry as I am, you may not like this novel as much as I did. I loved the insight into publishing, and the muse behind the scenes. Galassi writes well.
June 24, 2015
Falling in love with a famous poet can be more trouble than it's worth.
Apologies to the poets out there.
Don't blame me. I'm just following Jonathan Galassi's thinking here.
Apologies to the poets out there.
Don't blame me. I'm just following Jonathan Galassi's thinking here.
October 17, 2021
Ik vond het verhaal wat te traag. Daarom ben ik uiteindelijk toch gestopt. Het was te veel beschrijvend en er gebeurde te weinig.
March 8, 2019
Reviews of this book online have been tepid, yet that is understandable. Unless one has worked in publishing, the charms of Galassi's debut novel may evade the reader. This novel is ultimately about love -- the love of books and authors, the love of one's family (whether birth family or surrogate family), and ultimately about romantic love. A young man idolizes poet Ida Perkins, but goes to work at the publishing house that is the sworn rival to Perkins's publisher. With loyalty to one publisher, Paul finds himself drawn to another. The second publisher, Wainwright, had been Perkins's lover, and despite the solidity his wife Maxine provided, he proved a womanizer to the end. But what of Maxine, the woman always in the background. Would her story ever get told? As Paul skirts the thin line between the two fierce rivals, and as he learns more about Ida, several truths become known. To a certain degree, this is a roman-a-clef, and many will catch some of Galassi's allusions. Many years ago, my best friend referred to publishing as a cult. Publishing people only know other publishing people, and when they gather, the talks is always about books. This is a cult novel for we publishing wage-slaves.
February 5, 2020
Ida Perkins is the poet of the century courted by the heads of two publishing houses. The basic premise, that a poet could be so astoundingly successful, is a little hard to believe, but allowing for the suspension of disbelief, this is an enjoyable story written by Jonathan Galassi, president and publisher of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, a poet himself. Paul Dukach is the heir apparent at Purcell & Stern. He works for Homer Stern but is also friendly with Sterling Wainwright at Impetus who's a cousin to Ida and has published all of Ida's work up to now. There is much insider information that may or may not interest those not in the business. One of the faults in the book is the printing of some of what are supposed to be Ida's poems and reading them you wonder why she is so revered. Always a letdown when you are allowed to see the fabulous creator behind the curtain, otherwise an entertaining look into the (fictional) publishing industry. Recommended.
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