What's in a Name? Or, the New Crusoe

Andre Bernard's written a great nonfiction book about the process by which different books got their title, and the work is aptly named, Now all we need is a Title. Bernard implies that an important component of a work's commercial value, even in the case of great works of literature, is in the title. What if F. Scott Fitzgerald got his way, and The Great Gatsby was instead Trimalchio in West Egg? What if Hitler's pithily titled Mein Kampf had been titled Four and a half years of Struggle against Lies, Stupidity, and Cowardice? If The Mill on the Floss were called St. Ogg's on the Floss (Who in their right mind would name their kid, or their saint, Ogg?)? If Peter Benchley had followed his father's advice, rejected Jaws and called it What's that Noshin' on My Laig instead?

This has caused me to wonder if perhaps Daniel Defoe's second sequel to Robinson Crusoe, Serious Reflections of Robinson Crusoe, might have been less of a commercial flop if he had chosen a better title. Defoe actually wrote two sequels to Robinson Crusoe. The first was titled Farther Adventures (published 1719), in which Crusoe returns to his island and even travels to the Far East. Believe it or not, it went through seven printings by 1747 (the first book had gone through nine), so its sales were comparable to the first work. In 1720, Defoe published his second sequel, Serious Reflections, whose sales were so stunningly not spectacular that no single editions were published after 1720.

Now, the easy answer to why Serious Reflections had bad sales is to say that it was boring. After all, it's only a collection of essays: essays on solitude, on honesty, on propriety in conversation, on the present state of religion, on listening to Providence, on the proportion between the Christian and pagan world, and a "Vision of the Angelick world." But I think the real problem is not what's inside: rather, it is the lack of a glossy cover and cool title. What if, instead of calling it "Serious Reflections," Defoe had opted for something more exciting, like, "Crusoe III: This Time, He's out for Blood," or "Crusoe in Space." Wouldn't you be more likely to pick the book up?

In addition to a cool title, you could really dramatize the content with an exciting blurb. Below is a sample. I should note that what the blurb describes really does happen in the book! I am not endorsing the events; I am merely pointing out their commercial (and controversial) appeal.

This is Crusoe as you've never seen him before. Thrill to Crusoe's detailed description of sodomy of the tongue, including tips on incest and how to remove clothes with your tongue! (105, 108) In the grips of insanity, Crusoe strikes out at those he most loves ... even his parrot! ("Vision," 9) Crusoe unfold a sweeping plan for a religious jihad to wipe out the Muslim faith! (248) Crusoe travels into outer space, sees the planets, and even Satan! ("Vision," 26, 31, 32) You'll hear about English cannibalism (121) and even celestial hedghogs (137)! When it comes to contemplative essays on religion and the world, Crusoe says, "No momma's boys need apply!"

Now, you're probably thinking that I'm grossly misrepresenting the work, and I am. This is what effective advertising does. All my blurb claims have been painstakingly referenced in case of lawsuit. It's not that much different from the misleading Gilmore Girls advertisement that makes you think Rory had sex with her boyfriend, but you learn from the episode itself that it's really her friend Paris who did. With someone who wasn't Rory's boyfriend. Of course, Rory later had sex anyway, but that was at least a season later. Dean was the wrong man for her, why couldn't she see that? Why? And Dean, what was he thinking, how could he do that to his wife? Anyway, the moral of the story is that, sometimes, it's not what's on the inside that counts, but what's on the glossy cover.