Michael J Seidlinger’s SUMMER READS
SUMMER READS: Starting today and over the course of the next couple weeks, I’ll be posting some summer reading recommendations by various writers.
I asked the writers to recommend a few books for summer reading, or to talk about some books they’re particularly looking forward to delving into this summer.
First up, some great picks from Michael J Seidlinger:
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The First Four Books of Sampson Starkweather by Sampson Starkweather (Birds LLC, 2013)
I only recently discovered this guy’s poetry and I am truly kicking myself for it. His poems weave together humor and pop culture references. The book is 328 pages of I-have-no-idea-what-to-expect but if it’s anything like what I’ve read at Typo Magazine and other journals, there’s a lot of good in this three hundred page book.
And that name. Mannnnnnn… now I’m in the mood for a good film noir. Someone recommend me a good film noir.
Maximum Minimum Wage by Bob Fingerman (Image Comics, 2013)
Seemingly people have more time to read in the summer but, for me, I tend to find that the opposite is true. Therefore you’ve got to love the existence of graphic novels. Much like a movie, the average graphic novel only asks the reader for an hour or two.
With Fingerman’s “Maximum Minimum Wage,” we see through the eyes of Rob Hoffman, a cartoonist working on smut rags to pay the bills, as he, alongside his girlfriend, Sylvia, go about the apathy of their oddly relatable lives. It looks like Fingerman’s series channels other comix writers like Daniel Clowes and Brian Wood. During the heated summer months, I tend to go for narratives that point at the bleakness of modern life with a lot of sarcasm and, as the back cover blurb states, “cringe humor.”
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June 3rd, 2013 / 11:00 am
June 3rd, 2013 / 11:00 am
LIES/ISLE PRESENTS: Morning by Lara Mimosa Montes
In the morning she ties her robe
so now the morning is
a mélange of peachy pinks to me
If this mélange could only be poured into her demitasse
so now the morning is
a mélange of peachy pinks to me
If this mélange could only be poured into her demitasse
all your peach-noir-pink
pouring it into me
If it’s dark enough
dream time dawn colored enough
Yes, looking at you now is like waking up from the dream
with the bottle of crème de menthe still in my hand
But a bad morning is a bitter morning
in your mouth is the taste of chickory to me
If before you go
would you wake up again?
Wake up like a Will Cotton
framed in gold, yawning
but when I call you a Will Cotton
try not to open your mouth please
When I call you a Will Cotton
I am telling you that in the morning
around half-past ten
you look like a 17th century Dutch still-life to me
with your peach languor perversely
idling without end
or if at the end
you and your eggs Florentine
or if at the end
only a bunch of silly papers
. . . . and the glass of orange juice next to the eggs Florentine . . . .
*****
If you are a white elephant, they say, then you are actually naturally pink
. . . . . . . . . But if you are a glass rinsed with bitters, then filled with gin . . .
Will Cotton, Cotton Candy Sky (2006)
Ben Mirov—
How do you feel about the writing scene in your city? Does it make you stronger, or does it sap your will to live like a giant lamprey?
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