Beyond Books is based on the premise that “leading a literary life” is not only about reading and writing and editing and solitude; it’s about complete cultural immersion and exploring the language of every lived experience.
San Francisco freaks and geeks who like to play dress-up and waltz beyond the midnight hour celebrated the macabre cartoon fantasies of Edward Gorey this past weekend at the 12th Annual Edwardian Ball. This year’s spectacular multidisciplinary tribute — featuring music, dance, theater, video, painting, sculpture, fashion, installation art, aerial acrobatics and absinthe-rootbeer cocktails(!!!) — was inspired by the cult author-illustrator’s The Iron Tonic (Or,A Winter Afternoon in Lonely Valley). What follows is a parody of the Gorey text with photos from the show.
The Eternal Balm (Or, A Winter Night in San Francisco)
The tinies at the Gorey Ball
Danced brightly till they hit the wall.
Those who could not twirl stood upright,
Leather corsets binding most tight.
It’s National Novel Writing Month and all across the country (ok, in maybe in studio apartments mostly in major cities) novelists are cranking away at the keys. But writing is difficult, often lonesome, work, and writing a novel is an endeavor that brings even the most experienced writers to the edge of surrender or worse.
Consider how Adam Haslett describes the experience of writing his first novel: “Well there was depression, anxiety, horrible stomach problems, horrible back problems, loneliness, horniness, dread, fear, and recurring radical doubt as to the worth of my endeavors, but other than that it was all quite effortless.” And that was after writing a short story collection that heaped up accolades like mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving (National Book Award and Pulitzer finalist, Time best book of the year, et al.).
To drive you on, to inspire you, to sustain you, to help you break through writer’s block, and to simply keep you clattering away at the keys, the staff of Electric Literature and The Outlet offer you a literary Eye of the Tiger: a NaNoWriMo mixtape. Listen to it all the way through, or find a track or two you like and pursue that creative thread.
“Gerdur” by Sigur Rós - After you’ve been cooped up all day writing in your attic bedroom that has no windows, this song tricks you into thinking you’re the best kind of genius. — Halimah Marcus
“We Insist” by Zoë Keating - I like to write to music that is either absent of words or is completely full of them. I’d describe this brilliant modern cellist as ‘Alternative classical.’ She creates deep, layered, non-verbal spaces and I’m guilty of listening to her albums over and over again while writing. — David Ohlsen
“In the Fall” by Future Islands - It works well on repeat, and it makes you feel like you’re 16 and Things Are Important. — K. Reed Petty
“Residential Love Song” by KC Accidental - Before there was Broken Social Scene, there was KC Accidental. This song came off of 2000′s “Anthems for the Could’ve Bin Pills,” which is filled with gems just like this one– quiet and non-distracting, but still completely lovely and inspiring. — Julia Jackson
badbadbad
Jesus Angel Garcia
New Pulp Press
240 pp / $14.95
Taking after the old pulp tradition, badbadbad starts off on a sharp note: A man has been left by his wife, taking their son along with her. The prose is as razor sharp as you’d expect in old hardboiled paperbacks, with the same juxtaposition of opposites creating the same tension we’ve come to love from the genre, and the cover is designed with the same campy grittiness in mind. badbadbad, however, isn’t a pulp novel, but a taut psychological examination, a blueprint into madness, all wrapped up in a nice pulp package. This is an important distinction to note because the novel is shot through with this sentiment, this idea of covertness, of hidden layers, of people masquerading as things they’re not.
The Artifice of Media
Jesus Angel Garcia, the narrator, has just been left by his wife, who took their son with her. Looking for money in order to hire a divorce lawyer, he’s hired by the Reverend Puck to be webmaster for the First Church Before Church, helping build their online presence. The community grows so large that he’s picked up by other area churches. Around this time, he meets Cyrus, the ex-communicated son of Rev Puck. Cyrus and JAG bond over music on almost a molecular level. They are fluent in punk, jazz, soul and communicate through in the innate language of aesthetes. He also introduces JAG to fallenangels, a website forum created as a safe haven for fetishists. It’s this site that triggers a revelation for Jesus, that it is his calling to be a sexual messiah for these broken women, fulfilling their needs.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author ofBadbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his fifteenth installment.
On Midwest Strangeness (Part II)
After Iowa City and Indianapolis, the tour headed south for a noir weekend in Missouri. Jesus Lives! large in Mark Twain’s mythic playground for do-gooders and good-for-nothings, just as He does in Indy, Atlanta, Nashville and Virginia Beach. Hell, maybe Sarah Palin is right: the United States isthe Promised Land for True Believers, who won’t have to fight for a seat in the skybox come Rapture. I always forget how the middle states are blood-red. Not my fault, not by choice anyway. I’m genetically predisposed to not knowing where I am at all times. Geographically challenged, my father calls it. Good thing Missourians value family alongside beefsteak, popcorn and praise. I felt well taken care of here.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author of Badbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his fourteenth installment.
On the Strange, Borderless Midwest (Part I)
In a recent HTMLGIANT interview with Matthew Baker, “literary prankster” Michael Martone called the Midwest “a strange, imaginary place, with no distinct borders or boundaries.” This depiction of an elusive, borderless America, roughly clumped between the Appalachians and the Rockies, makes sense now that I’m reflecting on the road show that stopped in Iowa City, Indianapolis, St. Louis and Kansas City. My experiences in each of these towns were indeed strange-feeling, and yes, the borders were blurred.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author of Badbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his thirteenth installment.
Lit Love from the Lonesome Highway III: Welcome Home Edition
These books have been waiting patiently on the bedside table all summer: The Orange Eats Creeps (Grace Krilanovich), Two Women (Alberto Moravia), There Is No Year (Blake Butler), Stories for Nighttime and Some for the Day (Ben Loory). It felt good to crack them open. It’ll feel better to read them cover to cover.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author of Badbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his twelfth installment.
Punks, Zines & Drugs: High Times in Pittsburgh
The DIY imperative of indie authors and publishers today is punk. Maybe it’s not the same punk proselytized by Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll and Factsheet Five in the Golden Age of Zine Culture, but the DNA of the featured artists in those pages back then is close enough to ours for comfort. Let’s say we’re spit-swapping cousins with a mutual desire to make and distribute creative work on our own terms. Let’s accept said work runs the gamut, from novels to albums to graffiti to comic books. Let’s acknowledge at least a few common obsessions: autonomy, solidarity, whimsicality, provocation. At its root, punk is about providing alternative ways and means (e.g., transmedia narrative, literary reading as literary theater, free art for the people). If you’ll grant all of the above is true, then give it up to Pittsburgh as Punk Refuge U.S.A. in the summer of 2011.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author of Badbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his eleventh installment.
Lit Love from Lonesome Highway II
This week’s digital reading features excerpts from a handful of hot Indie Pittsburgh pick-ups—i, scorpion (Karen Lillis), Magenta’s Adventures Underground (Carol Lewis), A Zine About Billy (Danny Mac)—and The Dwarf (Pär Lagerkvist), a literary classic from the death metal hinterlands of Great White Europe. There’s a sophisticated feat of basement athleticism at the end of this installment. I challenge all y’all at the next arcade tournament along the tour route. Topeka? Boulder? Salt Lake City? You’re on.
Editor’s Note: Jesús Ángel Garcia, author of Badbadbad, is blogging his book tour. This is his tenth installment.
To Read or Not To Read
To read or not to read is the existential drama of the 21st century author. Major publishers say book tours are like dumping a corpse in the East River. They’re a stinky, soggy enterprise, dead on arrival. You won’t sell nearly enough product to turn a profit, and multinational conglomerates need to feed the bottom line. They’ve got shareholder pockets to perfume. So literature in the megacorporate domain is rarely about bringing live nude words to the people. Natural selection forbids it. What does this mean for overworked, rarely-paid subterraneans like us? Read, dammit! Read out loud. It’s our responsibility as guerrilla artists. And make it fun. Or shut the fuck up.
