Agent to the Stars, by John Scalzi
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Agent to the Stars, by John Scalzi
Download Ebook PDF Agent to the Stars, by John Scalzi
The space-faring Yherajk have come to Earth to meet us and to begin humanity’s first interstellar friendship. There’s just one problem: they’re hideously ugly and they smell like rotting fish.
So getting humanity’s trust is a challenge. The Yherajk need someone to help them close the deal.
Enter Thomas Stein, who knows something about closing deals. He’s one of Hollywood’s hottest young agents. But although Stein may have just concluded the biggest deal of his career, it’s quite another thing to negotiate for an entire alien race. To earn his percentage this time, he’s going to need all the smarts, skills, and wits he can muster.
"With a plot that starts out as the rough life of a young agent in Hollywood and rapidly metamorphoses into B-movie territory as a remarkably intelligent first-contact yarn, this book is absurd, funny, and satirically perceptive.” ―Booklist
Agent to the Stars, by John Scalzi - Amazon Sales Rank: #5813634 in Books
- Brand: Scalzi, John/ Wheaton, Wil (NRT)
- Published on: 2015-06-09
- Formats: Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 6.75" h x .50" w x 5.25" l,
- Running time: 9 Hours
- Binding: MP3 CD
Agent to the Stars, by John Scalzi Review
“With a plot that starts out as the rough life of a young agent in Hollywood and rapidly metamorphoses into B-movie territory as a remarkably intelligent first-contact yarn, this book is absurd, funny, and satirically perceptive.”--Booklist on Agent to the Stars“If Stephen King were to try his hand at science fiction, he’d be lucky to be half as entertaining as John Scalzi.”--Dallas Morning News on The Ghost Brigades
About the Author John Scalzi is the author of several SF novels including the bestselling Old Man’s War sequence, comprising Old Man’s War, The Ghost Brigades, and the New York Times-bestselling The Last Colony. He is a winner of science fiction’s John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and he won the Hugo Award for Your Hate Mail Will Be Graded, a collection of essays from his popular blog Whatever. His latest novel, Fuzzy Nation, hit the New York Times bestseller list in its first week on sale. He lives in Ohio with his wife and daughter.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One“Fourteen million and fifteen percent of the gross? For Michelle Beck? You’re out of your fucking mind, Tom.”
Headsets are a godsend; they allow you to speak on the phone while leaving your hands free for the truly important things. My hands were currently occupied with a blue rubber racquetball, which I was lightly bouncing off the pane of my office window. Each quiet thock left a tiny imprint on the glass. It looked like a litter of poodles had levitated six feet off the ground and schmooged their noses against the window. Someone would eventually have to wipe them all off.
“I’ve had my medication for today, Brad,“ I said. “Believe me, fourteen million and fifteen points is a perfectly sane figure, from my client’s point of view.”
“She’s not worth anywhere near that much,“ Brad said. “A year ago she was paid $375,000, flat. I know. I wrote the check”
“A year ago, Summertime Blues hadn’t hit the theaters, Brad. It’s now $220 million later. Not to mention your own Murdered Earth-$85 million for perhaps the worst film in recent history. And that’s before foreign, where no one will notice that there’s no plot. I’d say you got your one cheap taste. Now you’ve gotta pay.”
“Murdered Earth wasn’t that bad. And she wasn’t the star.” “I quote Variety,“ I said, catching the ball left- handed for the briefest of seconds before hurling it back against the glass, “ ‘Murdered Earth is the sort of film you hope never makes it to network television, because nearby aliens might pick up its broadcast signal and use it as an excuse to annihilate us all.’ That was one of the nicer comments. And if she wasn’t the star, why did you plaster her all over the posters and give her second billing?”
“What are you all about?” Brad said. “I remember you practically doing me for that artwork and billing.”
“So you’re saying you’ll do anything I say? Great! Fourteen million and fifteen percent of the gross. Gee, that was easy.”
The door opened. I turned away from the window to face my desk. Miranda Escalon, my administrative assistant, entered my office and slipped me a note. Michelle just called, it read. Remember that you have to get them to pay for her hairdresser and makeup artist, it read.
“Look, Tom,“ Brad said. “You know we want Michelle. But you’re asking too much. Allen is getting $20 million and twenty percent of the gross. If we give Michelle what she wants, that’s $35 million and a third of the gross right there. Where do you suggest we might make a profit?”
$14 million, she can pay for her own damn hair, I wrote on the pad. Miranda read it and raised her eyebrows. She left the room. The odds of her actually giving that message to Michelle were unimaginably remote. She’s not paid to do everything I say-she’s paid to do everything I should say. There’s a difference.
“I have two points to make here,“ I said, turning my attention back to Brad. “First: Allen Green isn’t my client. If he were, I’d be endlessly fascinated by the amount of money you’re throwing to him. But he is not. Therefore, I could not possibly give two shits about what you’re handing him. My responsibility is to my client and getting a fair deal for her. Second: $20 million for Allen Green? You’re an idiot.”
“Allen Green is a major star.”
“Allen Green was a major star,“ I said, “When I was in high school. I’m about to go back for my tenth- year reunion. He’s been out in the wilderness for a long time, Brad. Michelle, on the other hand, is a major star. Right now. $300 million in her last two films. Fourteen million is a bargain.”
The door opened. Miranda popped her head in. She’s back, she mouthed.
“Tom,“ Brad began.
“Hold on a second, Brad. The woman herself is on the other line.” I cut him off before he could say anything. “What?” I said to Miranda.
“Miss Thing says she has to talk to you right now about something very important that can’t wait.”
“Tell her I’m already working on the hairdresser.”
“No, it’s even more important than that,“ Miranda said. “From the sound of it, it may be the most important thing ever in the history of mankind. Even more important than the invention of liposuction.”
“Don’t be mocking liposuction, Miranda. It has extended the career of many an actress, thus benefiting their agents, allowing them to pay your salary. Liposuction is your friend.”
“Line two,“ Miranda said. “Let me know if fat- sucking is toppled.”
I punched the button for line two. Ambient street noise filled my earphones. Michelle was undoubtedly careening along Santa Monica Boulevard.
“Michelle,“ I said. “I’m trying to make you very rich. What ever it is, make it quick.”
“Ellen Merlow got Hard Memories.” Michelle said. “I thought I was in the running for that. I thought I had it.”
“Don’t feel too bad about it, Michelle,“ I said. “Everyone was up for that one. If you didn’t get it, that puts you in there with Cate Blanchett and Meryl Streep. You’re in good company. Besides, the pay wasn’t that good.”
I heard a short brake squeal, followed by a horn and some muffled yelling. Michelle had cut someone off . “Tom, I need roles like that, you know? I don’t want to be doing Summertime Blues for the next ten years. This role would have helped me stretch. I want to work on my craft.”
At the word craft, I mimed stabbing myself in the eye. “Michelle, right now you’re the biggest female star in Hollywood. Let’s work with that for a couple of movies, okay? Get a nice nest egg. Your craft will still be there later.”
“I’m right for this role, Tom.”
“The role is a fortyish Jewish woman victimized in the Warsaw ghetto and Treblinka, who then fights racism in the United States,“ I said. “You’re twenty-five. And you’re blonde.” And you think Treblinka is a shop on Melrose. I kept that last thought in my head. No point confusing her.
“Cate Blanchett is blonde.”
“Cate Blanchett also has an Oscar,“ I said. “So does Ellen, for that matter. One in each acting category. And she’s also not twenty- five, or blonde. Michelle, let it go. If you want to work on your craft, we can get you into some live theater. That’s craft. Craft up the wazoo. They’ redoing Doll’s House over at the Geff en. You’ll love it.”
“Tom, I want that part.”
“We’ll talk about it later, Michelle. I’ve got to get back to Brad. Gotta go. We’ll talk soon.”
“Remember to tell him about the hair-” I clicked her off and switched Brad back on. “Sorry, Brad.”
“I hope she was telling you not to blow this officer by asking for too much,“ Brad said.
“Actually, she was telling me about another project she’s really passionate about,“ I said. “Hard Memories.”
“Oh, come on,“ Brad said. “She’s a little young and blonde to be playing Yentl, isn’t she? Anyway, Ellen Merlow just got that part. Read it in the Times today.”
“Since when does the Times get anything right? Michelle’s a little young for the part, yes, but that’s what makeup is for. She’s a draw. Could get a whole other audience for serious drama.”
Brad snorted. “She won’t be getting fourteen million for that,“ he said. “That’s their entire budget.”
“No, but she’ll be working on her craft,“ I said. I popped the ball up and down on my desk. “The academy eats that stuff up. It’s a nomination, easy. Like Charlize Theron in Monster.” Sometimes I can’t believe what comes out of my own mouth.
But it was working. I could hear Brad weighing the options in his mind. The project at hand was the sequel to Murdered Earth-called, in a burst of true creativity, Earth Resurrected. They had a problem: they killed off the hero in the first film. Which was just as well, since Mark Glavin, who played him, was a loser who was well on his way to replicating the career arc of Mickey Rourke.
So when it came to the sequel, they had to build it around Michelle, whose character managed to survive. The script had been written, the casting completed, and the preproduction was rolling along under a full head of steam. Stopping now to recast or rewrite was not an option. They were over a barrel-they knew it and I knew it. What we were arguing about now was the size of the barrel.
Miranda’s head popped through the door again. I glared at her. She shook her head. Not her, she mouthed. Carl.
I set the ball down. When? I mouthed.
Three minutes, she mouthed.
“Brad, listen,“ I said. “I’ve got to get-I’ve just been told I have a meeting with Carl. He’s going to want to know where we stand on this. Hard Memories has about wrapped up its casting. We have to tell them one thing or another. I have to tell Carl one thing or another.”
I could hear Brad counting in his head. “Fuck,“ he said, finally. “Ten million and ten percent.”
I glanced down at my watch “Brad, it’s been a plea sure talking to you. I hope that my client can work with you again at some point in the future. In the meantime, I wish you and the other Murdered E...
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116 of 125 people found the following review helpful. DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK! By Kurt G. Helm Kurt Helm's review: "Agent to the Stars" by John ScalziDO NOT BUY THIS BOOK unless you have eight uninterrupted hours to devote to having an incredibly good time with characters you'd like to hang out with and a plot that provides one delightful surprise after another!"Agent to the Stars" is a break from Scalzi's highly acclaimed "Old Man's War" series with a seamless move from military sci-fi to humorous sci-fi. The plot involves a benevolent alien species, the Yherajk, that comes to help mankind. The only problem is that the Yheraji are not likely to be well received by humankind. They are frighteningly repulsive looking blobs of "space phlegm" and their main form of communication is by a variety of smells; very, very bad smells.Our hero, Thomas Stein, is an up and coming Hollywood talent agent, still a bit low in the pecking order of his agency, who gets picked by his legendary boss to be the one to take on this alien species as their agent. His job is to "sell" these frighteningly alien blobs to the world as benefactors, not as scary invaders. Along the way the author gets to explore Hollywood hype; holocaust issues; friendship and love; family relationships; the high pressure, superficial life of a Hollywood agent; and how to deal with five gallons of rotten-smelling Jell-O slime with a 180 IQ. All of this with the snappiest dialogue since the West Wing TV show went off the air (Aaron Sorkin, eat your heart out!)The only flaw I could find (and believe me I feel like I am picking fly-specks out of the salt by bringing this up) is that for the first chapter or two I had a little trouble keeping two of the main characters apart because of the similarity of their names (i.e., Miranda and Michelle.)Overall, Anyone, regardless of his or her interests, who is fascinated by an author's ability to take the same old words we all use and put them together in such a way that we can see time-worn subjects with a fresh new perspective, will enjoy this book. Come to think of it, I don't think of "Agent to the Stars" as a sci-fi book after all. It is first and foremost a can't-put-it-down, funny as heck, read. The sci-fi part is just background, the skeleton upon which all the enchanting flesh of ideas, images and associations is hung.
32 of 33 people found the following review helpful. "An entire people, amazingly technologically and ethically advanced, all in desperate need of Dr. Scholl's foot deodorizers." By H. Bala John Scalzi is such a good writer that probably even his grocery lists glow with effortless wit and narrative flow. Scalzi has already left a sizable imprint in the sci-fi world, and I guess AGENT TO THE STARS sort of falls in that genre. Scalzi demonstrates a terrific sense of humor in all his books, but the humor in this one is decidedly more pronounced. There's the precise skewering of Hollywood and a topsy-turvying of that old sci-fi chestnut: first contact with aliens. It's a really fun read.AGENT TO THE STARS, we learn in the author's foreword, turns out to be Scalzi's "practice novel," the book he wrote to see if he could actually write one. It was first made available for the readers in Scalzi's website and eventually found its way to publication in book format. Except that the guy is so good that it doesn't at all feel like a debut novel.The Yherajk (*not pronounced "earjack" or "earwax"*) are a friendly lot, a highly advanced alien race, and they'd like to get to know us better. For the past 70 years they've been tapping into Earth's broadcasted signals and have gotten exposed to our television shows. The Yherajk are civilized folks, but they look like gross snotty-looking gunk and they communicate by exchanging seriously foul scents, so they're well aware that humanity's first reaction probably won't be a hug. So what do they do? Do they land in front of the White House? Do they contact Earth's most renowned scientists or the League of Nations? No. They get a Hollywood agent to represent them. Which actually isn't that ridiculous a notion. Who better than a Hollywood agent to convince the masses that $#!+ don't stink? And that smelly sentient blobs may actually be the good guys?John Scalzi knows how to write sympathetic characters, and when you can make not only a smelly sentient blob but also a Hollywood agent sympathetic, well, then you know you got skills. There's always been a satirical element in Scalzi's humor, and this is never more evident than in this novel. Our central character is glib-talking Tom Stein, a Tinseltown up-and-comer representing a stable of not much. Tom's one A-lister is a 25-year-old starlet who lucked into a B-movie that surprisingly made tons in the box office, and now she thinks she can act. Now she wants the lead in a biopic about an influential Holocaust survivor. The rest of Tom's clientele are no-hopers, but all of them are ambitious dreamers. Then there's that sneaky reporter from a gossip rag who gets a whiff that something big's going on with Tom and starts to hound him.All that aggravation, though, pales to diddly squat once Tom is hired by the living gooey goop. Now Tom has to introduce the Yherajk to Earth in such a way that Earth welcomes them with open arms or at least with open minds. But how?I really dig Scalzi's Old Man's War series, but AGENT TO THE STARS is almost as much fun to read. It's definitely a change of pace. It early on establishes a breezy tone and mostly maintains it, only in the end giving way to a show of nicely-handled sentiment. There may have been a suspicious moistness in the eye or a sniffle or two when I read the last two chapters. Never mind that it played out sort of the way I figured it would. It's a very satisfying read; Scalzi keeps things moving, and the Hollywood dialogue rings true (not that I'm an expert, but Scalzi seems to know what he's talking about). And I think it's pretty neat (and very polite) that the Yherajk would actually phone ahead to announce their presence. Even my mom doesn't do that.
13 of 14 people found the following review helpful. An Agent's Review By Ainsley Hanes First, I'm a Hollywood agent. A small one, heading a voice-over talent agency in LA, but a real one, working with actors and producers every day. So I bought this book on a lark because sci-fi is my favorite genre and I figured I could laugh at the skewed vision the author would bring. Which I did - repeatedly and out loud throughout this very clever, wonderfully witty and oh so droll little gem. Although it was published in 2005, it still reads like today -- no small accomplishment.But the heart of the pleasure here is the author's insistence on the good in his characters. Agents included. I was also quite surprised to find myself feeling tutored in the finer aspects of agenting; handling clients, sticking to principle, fighting for justice -- sheesh, this guy is the Green Lantern of our set!Finally, it isn't often you get to meet the kind of aliens you'd really LIKE to, and as corny as it sounds, I was left with a longing to be there when that day comes. In the meantime, Scalzi paints us a rare and lovely picture, filled with very real Hollywood types, a compelling and crafty story and a wheelbarrow of absurdities and interchanges that kept me waking my wife with gaffaws night after night.
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