The printers sent a sample of the book to Bett, the book manager, who sent it over to me with a rider. I remember the rider – skinny fellow with a sallow look – because he pressed my doorbell twice. I don’t like it when people press my doorbell twice. It’s excessive and rude, like using two question marks. I opened the door and told him, with as much sarcasm as I felt he could comprehend, that pressing the doorbell once is usually sufficient. He was unaffected. He had sleepy eyes, like an animal in hibernation. He extended a brown envelope to me. “Ningoje?” His voice echoed in the newly painted staircase area of the apartment.
I sat in the kitchen and unveiled the book. The sample they usually send at this stage has no text inside, just the sleeve design. I ran my hand over the cover. It’s the best cover I’ve had of all my books. I brought it to my nose and smelled it, hoping the smell would be revealing of something. It smelled normal, unimpressive. I weighed it in my hand. It’s a small book, like all my books. You can read it and finish on an SGR ride to Mombasa. Or a flight to Cape Town. Or if you are one of those odd people who love leaving town alone for the weekend, to go stay somewhere all alone, maybe sitting by a fire, having a drink, legs folded under you. You can wedge it in your pocket. Stuff it in your purse.
I looked at the spine, something was wrong with the spine. I called Bett and said, “something is wrong with the spine.” She said, “yes, I wanted to see if you’d notice or if it was just me.”
Of course, I’d notice.
“Send it to Fady,” I told her, “he will know what to do.”
I opened the door and found the rider standing in the same spot I left him. Like something you could water. Like a tree. Strange man. I handed back the brown envelope with instructions. He took it without a word. When I closed the door, I could hear him bundling down the staircase in his oversized boots.
The book found its way to Fady. He was at home, probably making his child do and undo his ponytail. He sent an email.
I’d like to adjust the text on the spine to be centered along the spine middle. Also, I feel like reducing the font size of the text on the back is a smidgen. The font shall be Garamond 11.8. Hairline nudges to the spine text to get as close as possible to the center, because OCD is to be enjoyed.
Best
Fady.
OCD is to be enjoyed. Bett gushed and fangirled at that line. I don’t think she remembered anything else in that email. It was slightly embarrassing to read her response to the email.
The book is currently in print. As you read this (Tue, 28th, 10:25 am) I’m probably at the printer’s nosing about. The first few copies should be out tomorrow.
We want to offer those to you because you are here every Tuesday. Go to this LINK and buy advance copies. Otherwise, I will do what I’m told is called a Beyonce Launch on Monday when I’m back from a small work safari.