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| photo: Jennifer Buhl |
Laura B. McGrath is a literary critic and an English professor at Temple University. She lives in Philadelphia. Her research has been published in the Atlantic, the Nation, and the Los Angeles Review of Books, as well as many academic outlets. Her work has been supported by the National Endowment for the Humanities, the Smithsonian Institute of American History, the Mellon Foundation, the New York Public Library, and the Big Ten. She is a frequent commentator on books, publishing, and culture, and writes the popular Substack TextCrunch. Her first book is Middlemen: Literary Agents and the Making of American Fiction (Princeton University Press, April 28, 2026), an account of how agents have shaped book publishing and the literary canon from the 1950s to today.
Handsell readers your book in 25 words or less:
Middlemen explains how the decisions made by literary agents (sometimes over martinis) have created the literary canon--for better and for worse.
On your nightstand now:
Discipline by Larissa Pham, a debut novel about a writer who is confronted by the real-life inspiration for one of her characters. Spare, haunting, taut. Nothing Random by Gayle Feldman, a giant publishing biography about a publishing giant. Detailed, expansive, indulgent. Feed by M.T. Anderson, which I'll be teaching next week in my young adult literature course. Weird, prescient, urgent.
Favorite book when you were a child:
My fifth-grade teacher gave me a copy of Avi's The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, in hopes of curing me of my budding feminism. I became obsessed. The novel--about an aristocratic girl who crosses the Atlantic solo, chops off her hair, joins the crew, and leads a mutiny before becoming the captain herself--did not have the intended effect.
Your top five authors:
My favorite authors who are currently living are Lauren Groff for her sentences, Katie Kitamura for her precision, Jhumpa Lahiri for her characters, Tana French for her plots, Jesmyn Ward for her lyricism.
Book you've faked reading:
The Hunt for Red October by Tom Clancy. I tried to assign it in my course on the bestseller but couldn't subject my students to more than two chapters of Clancy's wooden prose. We watched the adaptation instead.
Book you're an evangelist for:
Lost Children Archive by Valeria Luiselli. A masterpiece.
Book you've bought for the cover:
I threw down my credit card and bought Jen Beagin's Big Swiss the second I saw that upside-down milkmaid, mouth thrown open in agony and ecstasy. (And, not or, I learned once I read the novel.)
Book you hid from your parents:
Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow. I was a theater kid who wanted to read the source material from her favorite new musical. The bookseller told my parents it wasn't appropriate (a real bait-and-switch of an adaptation, it turned out), so I waited a few months before taking it out from the library.
Book that changed your life:
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, assigned to me in Miss McGarrity's 10th-grade English class, made me want to be a literary scholar.
Favorite line from a book:
"External realities of a frustrating nature she obliterated by refusing to believe in them, and when one resisted her disbelief she raged at it." John Steinbeck on Olive Hamilton (written for his mother) in East of Eden.
Five books you'll never part with:
East of Eden by John Steinbeck is my favorite novel. Lauren Groff's Matrix has become an annual reread, as fall creeps to winter. Each time I teach it, Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping subtly reorients the way that I experience nature. If I must choose an Edith Wharton novel, I suppose that it should be The Age of Innocence. And, in anticipation of the ways that it will continue to move me, Charlotte Wood's Stone Yard Devotional.
Book you most want to read again for the first time:
Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov, for the slow-dawning realization of Kinbote's delusion.
The best publishing novels:
The Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe, set in the golden age of publishing, when taste and style and ruthlessness are as necessary for making books as for making love. The Information by Martin Amis: prizes, prestige, penis envy. Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon, proving that before there was MFA discourse, there was more MFA discourse. Erasure by Percival Everett is far more interesting as a family drama than a publishing satire, yet it is certainly the best of the latter I've yet read. The Wife by Meg Wolitzer simmers with pent-up rage and ambition and potential. 10:04 by Ben Lerner takes the occasion of a New Yorker short story to meditate on speculation and ephemerality and legacy. Severance by Ling Ma, about nostalgia and burnout and the making of coffee-table books (also, zombies).