Blake Butler

http://www.gillesdeleuzecommittedsuicideandsowilldrphil.com/
Blake Butler lives in Atlanta. His third book, There Is No Year, is forthcoming April 2011 from Harper Perennial.
http://www.gillesdeleuzecommittedsuicideandsowilldrphil.com/
Blake Butler lives in Atlanta. His third book, There Is No Year, is forthcoming April 2011 from Harper Perennial.
American Short Fiction put together a list of ‘spooky reads’ but I don’t know, seems lacking. What books truly scare you? [Bonus link: if you haven’t been keeping up with DC’s, he’s been making amazing Halloween-style posts all month.]
Out today!
In his debut collection, Jamie Iredell calls on a classic and reemerging literary form to tell a story of travel, adventure, boredom, and life in general. Prose. Poem. A Novel. is a precisely written series of poems that when collected tell an addictive story. However, don’t expect to see complex titles and strict structure; this after all is a novel. Iredell masterfully pushes the reader through every detail, but as each page is turned form and genre melt quickly into a vital story.
Prose. Poems. A Novel., the third release from Orange Alert Press, is filled with brilliant and thematic illustrations from Christy Call (Literary Dispatch, Publishing Genius, and Willows Wept Press). These illustrations are in full color and add an even more vibrant visual element to Iredell’s story.
Here is my blurb on the book: “If Mary Robison listened to more punk, grew up in Las Vegas in the 80s before the 80s sucked, did whippits while reading Ben Marcus and scrolling the alternative personals for golden lines to crib, she might have exploded into the post-post-Beat sentence index that is Atlanta. But she didn’t. Jamie Iredell did, and in reading this lean but dense meat-eater of a sui generis prose poem cycle, one realizes there might still be a way for chapbooks to compete with porn.”
“What in the hell are these things? Stories? Poems? Stoems? Whatever they are, they have (lucky for us) catapulted from the brain, indeed the life, of this epicurean-poet-goonmaniac from Atlanta-via-Reno-via-northern-California. This book (much like the speaker himself) moves with a moody cat, and resolves amidst (and beyond) the sometimes seedy underbelly of Atlanta with its cavernous tavern dives, its ungodly cockroaches, its lust for excess. When you put down this book, you might suffer a hangover. But these pieces simultaneously achieve a sense of bildungsroman (think Joyce, not Sherwood Anderson). The consistency of voice and style here is remarkable, as is Iredell’s knack for creative metaphors (think Richard Brautigan). James Iredell has the skillz to pay the billz. Wait, he’s a poet so he can’t pay his billz. What I mean to say is, he has the skills to throw out the mail and keep scribbling, which is something he is always doing, and doing well.” – Mike Dockins, author of Slouching in the Path of a Comet
Great book from a great guy. Buy.
Michael Kimball interviews Rachel Sherman (author of the brand new novel Living Room from Open City) for the Faster Times.
Let’s talk about the cult of the anonymous comment. Seems like a significant portion of the comments in forums of this nature where someone actually comes out and says something directly criticizing another person for something they feel strongly about, it is done in an anonymous context. No link, no email, usually a goofy name. Being able to see the ISPs behind the comments, I can tell you that a lot of the time these comments come from people who had posted before while supplying their real name and links, and their veiling only began when they actually had something to say.
Which is, obviously, confusing, supposedly being a group of ‘writers’. [For the record I hate referring to people as writers, because every person is a writer. It’s like saying I’m a breather.] But these people who under the guise of the idea that they write regularly and more seriously than people who are just writing down grocery lists or whatever, it seems like these would be the kind of people most willing and fully ready to associate the words they are saying with their personas. Right? You are a ‘wordsmith,’ you say things that other people are supposed to want to listen to, so why go anonymous when you are actually saying something with some balls behind it?
Would you submit your ‘work’ to joesdickshed.blogspot.com? Under what criteria would this be a lucrative ‘market’ for your work?
Are novels superior to short story collections, as a form? Should all fictionists aspire to the novel format, at some point?
There is a difference between trying hard and trying too hard. And, obviously, the difference between trying and doing.
Just got back from a long weekend at the &Now Conference in Buffalo. It was a great long trek with many heads and panels, focused on the termed ‘experimental’ end of things. Lots of discussion and reading going on and heads chomping. The social elements aside, here’s a report from the field of things I attended.