A large box arrives on my doorstep. It’s heavy. Right away I know what it is: my agent copies of a newly published book. Opening it is going to be fun. I’ve read the manuscript (many times), probably worked with the author on edits (a few, or maybe extensive) before it was sent to the publisher, and I’ve seen the ARC. But feeling the paper, hearing the soft swish plop of the pages as they turn, looking at the design, the art, the totality of the book is amazingly joyous and satisfying.
I think about the excitement of the author who is also seeing the finished book and recall our process of connecting, and the work to refine the manuscript and bring it to editors. I think about the kids who will read the book. Hundreds, thousands of kids. Some will be indifferent to it, or forget it quickly, or not like it at all, or will adore it. It will make its mark on an unknowable number of kids, enlarging their world in some way. I won’t see this happening and neither will the author or the editor, the designer, marketing team or any number of others who played a role in its creation. But the book will do its work all the same.
I also love it when I receive a copy of a translated book because it’s tangible proof of the book’s ability to reach across seas and cultures. It demonstrates a kind of universality. I look on my bookshelf at Loretta Ellsworth’s IN A HEARTBEAT in Korean. In Japanese. I look at George Shannon’s HANDS SAY LOVE in Simplified Chinese. Ariel Bernstein’s I HAVE A BALLOON in Norwegian. -- More kids in more places impacted by books I helped bring into being. Fun!