Why is it, exactly, that the world of books exerts such an irresistible draw to the world of film? Not literary adaptations – you can see why they're so popular – but the rather less obvious charms of publishing's back rooms.
The latest addition to the field is The Proposal, in which Sandra Bullock plays a "high-powered book editor" facing deportation to her native Canada (she looks amazing in her fitted black suit and high heels in the poster, but far more sharply dressed than any book editor I've ever met). It's a romantic comedy, so naturally there's a fake engagement to be dealt with, and "one comedic fish-out-of-water situation after another". I'm loath to say it's unlikely to win critical plaudits, as I've only seen the trailer, but I'm going to say it anyway: it looks awful.
The Proposal joins the publishing sub-genre of the movie books world, nestling nicely next to Bridget Jones, who works in publishing PR, book editors Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction and Sarah Michelle Gellar in Suburban Girl (tagline "Sometimes the end is only the beginning"). Not to mention Will Ferrell's children's publisher father in Elf.
There's also the bookshop sub-genre: Hugh Grant's bumbling bookshop owner in Notting Hill, for example, or Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks's battle of the independent versus the chain in You've Got Mail. The genre also includes the film of 84 Charing Cross Road, and not forgetting Pamela Anderson ever so slightly unlikely casting as a bookshop employee in the 2005 television series Stacked.
I'd say that there's no particular reason for Bullock to be a book editor: it's all about the shorthand that the role conjures up. Without having to go into details, it immediately presents her as intelligent, well-read, interesting. A similar thing is done in romantic fiction, which is peopled with architect and doctor male heroes: the first is shorthand for clever, rich and creative, the second for clever and caring.
From what I've seen of life in a publisher's office, it's far less glamorous and exciting than The Proposal makes it appear. And as for Hugh Grant throwing in a free book in an attempt to woo Julia Roberts in Notting Hill (it was on the other night and this was the few minutes I ended up watching) – well, given the monetary struggles of independent bookshops today, it seems unlikely.
However inaccurate, it is enjoyable to see such flatteringly soft romantic spotlights trained on this area of work; and makes me wonder whether the industry has as yet unplumbed shallows for Hollywood to explore. I don't know about you, but I'd happily buy a ticket to see a life-affirming drama about a typesetter's struggle to come to terms with new media, and my colleague will race you to the front row when they make a thriller about a maverick rights lawyer's duel with Google.
And of course, who could deny the huge box office appeal of a breathless action adventure about a freelance books journalist racing heroically to head off an evil deadline?
