Being a writer of no mean talent, it outraged me, as I'm sure it
had other real writers, that Juror B37, as she's been dubbed, got signed
by a literary agent within hours of last Saturday's verdict. The
turnaround time between the jury's verdict being read and the
announcement of this deal was breathless and audacious even for a nation
of money-grubbing, sociopathic opportunists like the United States.
Sharlene Martin's catapulting of her body from Seattle to Florida
would've made an ambulance-chasing shyster green with envy.
It seemed to be yet another case of yet another literary agent signing
yet another moron to a book deal and risibly trying to get us to believe
they'd actually write their own book and not have it written for them
through an appointed ghost writing hack, like W's, Sarah Palin's,
Christine O'Donnell's and so many others while real writers of real
talent who really write their own books continue getting form rejections
from flunkies.
Then, just 14 hours after this "coup", we saw this on Twitter:
Yeah, sometimes the clouds do part, the demons retreat back into their
smoking, glowing fissures and sometimes common sense prevails or at
least seems to. Because, just before Sharlene Martin, literary agent
provocateur, made her heavily retweeted communique on Twitter, this
emerged from her client, Juror B37:
Hm. Sounds to me as if the client rescinded the agent and not vice
versa. Perhaps it had something to do with the enormous online backlash
after Juror B37's Sarah Palin-class
Hindenburg of an
interview
with Anderson Cooper on AC360. Either way I guess America's most
infamous anonymous juror realized the 15 minutes of bright lights
weren't for her. Or maybe Sharlene Martin honestly realized what a
disaster in the making such a professional association would involve. Or
maybe Martin realized she'd leaped before she looked and remembered
Paula Deen and how difficult it is to sell a book these days by a racist
whose name isn't Rush Limbaugh.
Because Juror B37 and her
unbelievably stupid comments about "boy of color" Trayvon Martin and
that she honestly believed the police dispatcher wanted Zimmerman to
pursue Martin pretty much branded her as a racist, an inattentive moron
and possibly guilty of compromising the jury. Note the part where she
says, "The potential book was always intended to be a respectful
observation of the trial from my and my husband's perspectives
solely..."
Was she in touch with her husband while the jury was sequestered?
We'll never know the full reasons for the pulling of the plug even
before the ventilators began any more than we'll know how a jury of six
women could be so divided (Two wanted manslaughter charges and one
wanted a murder two conviction) yet turn into a unanimous acquittal. But
literary agents such as Charlene Martin are chiefly responsible for not
only the tawdry state of affairs in publishing but are symptomatic of
the moral rot that's hollowing out this once-great nation.
I would've gotten physically ill if I'd heard that George Zimmerman got
signed by a literary agent. But at some point one must accept some
moral rot and opportunism is to be expected in this free
market-dominated nation of ours and, in a twisted way, it would've made
sense. Zimmerman, after all, was the defendant in one of the most
sensational murder trials of the year. It would've made greater sense to
approach the Martins (Trayvon's parents) with a book deal and offer of
representation so they could offer their thoughts on the trial and son's
murder.
But no. Sharlene Martin essentially hurtled her
body, pen and contract in hand, all the way to Florida to sign one of
six jurors who, I think we can be reasonably assured, is the stupidest
and most racist one on the whole jury. It shows that even when following
those brutally insensitive instincts for opportunity, some agents don't
even aim high and are content to pursue the tawdriest, sleaziest book
deal imaginable.
She could've approached the grieving parents, had a ghost writer with some integrity turn their thoughts and feelings into a lasting work that virtually any publisher outside of Regnery
or Threshold would've been proud to put out. Instead, Sharlene Martin,
the most loathed literary agent on the planet today (which is quite a
feat, considering) chose to aim for the cheapest, most sensational
flash-in-the-pan imaginable, so her client could get a huge advance that
wouldn't have a prayer of earning itself out, so she could get 15% of
that and, in the process, becoming yet another scum to capitalize on
Trayvon Martin's murder.
Sure honey-bunny B-37, it's only skin deep, right?