“The Sun Born Over is heartbreaking in the best way. You end up falling in love with Vay and Alan, even when they frustrate you with their decisions. Probably because what they do rings so true. You really can’t put it down until you’re done.”
Or so was one response to what our team over at culver & venice have been up to:
a book, oh yes: The Sun Born Over, by j. d. may.
(They’re pretty darn excited.)
On the run-up to culver & venice’ new release, we’ve been talking a lot about fiction on our end, how to define it and what categorisations are actually valid.
The fact that von reuth has a commercial fiction division is a statement in and of itself, but why is this ‘separation’ needed when it comes to fiction? Why not simply label it fiction and be done with it?
For the same reason that we like to know where the cardigans are in comparison to the silk blouses; where to look for tweed suits and where to find plain cotton shirts; where to purchase a kaftan and where a kimono.
The labeling is not the problem.
It’s what comes after, the value put to the labels, that leads to very heated discussions and “much gnashing of teeth”.
Genre fiction, for example, seems to be the relative nobody wants to talk about: the weird uncle in the attic, the strange professor in the cellars, the kid in the corner of the class who talks about monsters and legends as if they were real.
But what is real anyway, in the realm of fiction?
Or better, what is ‘keeping it real’?
Is it all a matter of what’s cool and what’s not?
Not simply acceptable, but desirable?
From the Nikes and Adidas of fiction to the Louboutins?
Not to mention the special cases who want everything tailor-made on Oxford Street.
What, then, would the sweatshops of fiction be?
Who the bespoke tailors
The snide, pony-tailed shop assistants?
Are bookshops simply boutiques?
Gasps all around.
Someone positively whispered ‘sacrilege’.
For there is little that is sacrosanct about clothes shopping
But book readers have always been a little strange about bookshops.
There’s a near-mysticism to them that probably plays into the above categorisation, though the great thing about bookshops is that you can find all of the above and more in them.
The more diverse the better.
There are so many incarnations.
And our culver & venice team really wants you to read The Sun Born Over.
As do we.
Really, read it. It’s great fiction, engrossing, moving
With or without categories.
You’ll find it here.
Don’t give up.
Keep on writing.