google my book

My marketing manager, Dr Mark Booth, has just informed me that my book is now featured on the Google books site. He's apparently allowed anyone to read 20% of the contents online. All you have to do is click on the following link

Preview the book

He also asked if I was ready to publish volume 2! What a cheek. I mean, it's not as if he's made much headway with volume 1. As if that wasn't enough, he suggested that I 'fill in some of the blanks' before submitting the manuscript. When I told him that my priority was to re-establish some kind of family life before I undertake any more writing, he simply sighed and said that it was up to me what I did, but that my readerhip might well expect something in the near future. Given that my readership is less than stable (numerically, not mentally), I'm not sure they are really expecting anything.

I turned the tables and asked what he was doing to market the book. Again he sighed, this time following up with a lamentable tale about being buy at work, finding it hard to get publicity, no-one willing to give a review etc. Given this, I said that I fail to see how going to the effort of producing another volume would be worth it. 'Aaah, but, Joseph', he replied. 'If you produce two books, that's more space on the bookshelves, more material to your name, and how many people do you know who have published 2 books for charity?'

'I'll think about it...', I said, solemnly. 'My level of enthusiasm is currently quite low.'

'Cheer up, old boy!', responded Dr Booth. 'I know you've had a hard time, but it could be a lot worse. Look on the bright side!'

At this point I looked out of the window in my temporary office. It was pelting with rain. So hard, in fact, that I couldn't see the other side of the yard. A sudden melancholy descended, and I wished Dr Booth farewell before stepping outside. Within moments I was soaked to the skin, but I remained for some minutes, reflecting on recent events as rivulets of rain water trickled over my face. The twins saw me from their room and banged on the window, telling me to get inside before I contracted pnuemonia. For a moment I was tempted to shout back and tell them that getting wet in summer rain does not, in itself, cause pneumonia, but then I remembered that a great-aunt had died under such circumstances some years ago (she had got lost during a rain storm and was found 2 days later. She died of pnuemonia shortly afterwards). Acknowledging the twins, I retreated indoors, where Dolores insisted that I remove all my clothing before stepping into a shower. What she forgot to tell me was that there was no hot water, on account of her having had a bath whilst I was on the phone.

Oh happy days, where have you gone?

J McC