Justin Taylor is the author of the story collection Everything Here Is the Best Thing Ever, and the novel The Gospel of Anarchy. He is the editor of The Apocalypse Reader, Come Back Donald Barthelme, and co-editor (with Eva Talmadge) of The Word Made Flesh: Literary Tattoos from Bookworms Worldwide. With Jeremy Schmall he makes The Agriculture Reader, a limited-edition arts annual. He lives in Brooklyn.
Rock. Star.
Friends, our own Mike Young NEEDS YOUR HELP! His essay “It Ain’t Me, Babe” is in the running for Best Nerve.com Feature of 2008. The competition is fierce. Right now Rachel Shukert’s essay about spending the night in a crappy lovenest in Nebraska is in the lead, with some bullshit about Stuff White People Like trailing not far behind it, but as you’ll see when you go over there, the vote-count is pretty low across the board so a decent influx of GIANT voters could seriously tip things Mike’s way. Also, FYI, you can only vote for each essay once, but you are allowed to vote for more than one essay.
I also gave a vote to “Triangulation” by Caitlin Macrae. It’s a piece about threesomes. She seems to really hit the nail on the head about what makes them so alluring, and she seems to like them even more than I do, which is seriously saying something.
Bonus points if you get this reference.
This comes with a tripple hat-tip, and proves why the internet is awesome.
1) Did you know I have the same name as a somewhat famous preacher? That’s right. Justin Taylor of Wheaton, Illinois, who blogs at Between Two Worlds and is the author and/or editor of several books, including Overcoming Sin and Temptation, Communion with the Triune God, The Supremacy of Christ in a Postmodern World, and Where Did Christianity Come From? I often wonder if he knows I exist. I mean, if he searches his own name on Amazon, he’ll get my anthology The Apocalypse Reader, as his #3 response, right between Communion with and Supremacy of.
PART 1: HOLIDAY PRESS SALE
Because we need literature in this recession
Dear Patrons,
Close to Home by Joshua Furst
Start Here by Betsy Wheeler
The Viral Lease by Mathias Svalina
X^2/Y=0, but Potential Energy Still Remains by Jake Severn
Two Tribal Stories by Joshua Cohen
Olivas Road EP (songs by V.C. Massimo)
*Sale does not include Mike Heppner’s Talking Man
Mike Heppner and Small Anchor Press announce Man, the third in a groundbreaking series of four novellas by Mike Heppner released in multiple formats in 2008 and 2009.
Man cannot be purchased anywhere, nor can it be read on-line. Instead, five hundred copies have been left in random locations across the country. Readers will be asked to read the novella and send an email through mikeheppner.com, telling about themselves, where they found Man, and what they thought of it, even if they didn’t like it. These comments will then be posted on mikeheppner.com.
Go to mikeheppner.com to see a PDF of the note included with each copy of Man.
The four novellas in the Man Talking series are Talking Man, Man, Man Talking, and Talking.
Man Talking can be read for free and in its entirety at mikeheppner.com. It has received nearly three thousand hits since being posted in April 2008.
Talking Man can be purchased exclusively from Small Anchor Press, a New York based independent press specializing in limited editions of finely crafted, handmade books. A first edition, published in September 2008, has nearly sold out, and a second edition is planned.
Talking will be released in early 2009.
copy of Man left at CRUNCH gym in West Hollywood, CA.
This past week, the mailman brought me a true and honest BOUNTY: my contributor copies of the Oxford American 10th Anniversary Southern Music issue. This thing is packed to and through the gills with goodies. The issue is oriented by TWO CDs of free music, boasting a whopping 28 tracks apiece. Some of them you may know very well; others you will be delighted and thrilled to discover. Pretty much every genre of music is represented, and the selections are impeccable. Inside the magazine itself, find stellar essays of all lengths and sizes about the artists on the CDs, plus new fiction by Clyde Edgerton and Matthew Pitt, Roy Blount Jr. on the documentary Shakespeare was a Big George Jones Fan: Cowboy Jack Clement’s Home Movies, and a whole lot more.
Greil Marcus AND Jack Pendarvis BOTH writing about Neko Case? — CHECK.
Humongous cover story on Jerry Lee Lewis, including badass picture of same? — CHECK.
Cousin Emmy, “the first hilllbilly to own a Cadillac,” written about by yours truly? — CHECK.
Long-lost Louisville, KY greaser-cum-hippie band Elysian Field? — CHECK.
Um, Richard Hell and Elvis and Lucinda Williams and Doc Boggs and Betty White (yes, that Betty White) and Kevin Brockmeier and Big Star and Blind Willie McTell and Thomas Beller and Eartha Kitt and Little Walter and The Residents and JESUS IT JUST KEEPS GOING ON–
Seriously, friends, it’s not just this issue either. Oxford American is one of the few magazines I eagerly await every month. Their recent Katrina issue was excellent, and before that their HOMES issue featured cats like Chris Bachelder and Karen Russell. Pendarvis is in there a lot. There’s fiction in every issue. These guys are more than just on the level- they are the level. Time to get with the program. Once more, all you have to do is call 1-800-CLICK-HERE. Operators are standing by.
Do you in any way distinguish between writers whom you ‘like’ and those whom you ‘respect’?
Why, and how?
– ABC of Reading, p. 81
awesome awesome awesome sexy awesome
Some freelancer for Time Out New York thought Diane’s last book was awesome sexy awesome.
Dear Giant Friends,
The day before Thanksgiving, we posted a contest to NAME RACHEL SHERMAN’S BABY. Well, that contest has a winner now. Rachel writes:
>>After much thought and debate, the winner for most clever baby name is…
Thirdperson Close!
We will be welcoming Thirdperson (or Thirdy, as we like to call her) to the world in just 5 1/2 weeks. Hopefully she will like her name! Thank you for all your submissions!!
-Rachel<<
“Thirdperson Close” was submmitted by a guy named David who left no contact information of any kind. As promised, the winner gets a signed copy of Rachel’s story collection, The First Hurt. DAVID IF YOU’RE OUT THERE YOU SHOULD EMAIL ME VIA MY WEBSITE and give me a mailing address and the name to which you want the book signed. I’ll pass these along to Rachel and you’ll get your prize.
Whelp it good.
This is the face of genius. This is the genius of face.
[with a hat tip to Peter Masiak, who left these many and several fine words in my inbox late last night, with this message attached: “ever just read the lyrics? I had about 75% wrong.”]
“The Country Diary Of A Subway Conductor”
“O get him out of there!” What if it cost 25c
to wake up in the morning? A dollar, ten dollars?
I’d pay it all the way to the poor house. It’s not made
if it’s made in Roanoke. Night pulling up in front of
the house like a bus. It came at me with shears. Her
sweater had faces, famouse faces knitted all over it.
The porch swing ticked off Central Daylight time.
“How many hours do you think it’ll take me to smoke this
cigarette?” she said with a smile. The smell of fried
food came drifting out one of the castle windows.
“Lets go around back” I said “my brother burried some
stuff back there.” We ducked down and walked through
the black bushes. My shoe made a sucking sound in
the turf. “He can afford anything” I said “he’s got
dogs that blow on trumpets.” “Priests!” she cussed.
Thunder cracks over Ben Franklin’s shop. Who wrapped
my dreams in a blanket and led them outside to the black
book in the yard? “Hey what indian tribe occupied
southern california? They were a lucky bunch of fellers!”
Sting Bible, More Sea Bible, Knur & Spell. In moments
downhill, towards sleep in the still water shop. Imagining
places I was almost sure I’d never been & had taken to
assuming were the memories of my grandfather somehow
deposited in my mind. They were there and gone, just before
I could get my bearings, catch any names or find out
where the hotel was. Just a pile of glass shavings that
could never be reassembled into the gone order
of buildings & the shade puring off of them. “WATER!”
*******SPECIAL BONUS*******
I interviewed David Berman for The Brooklyn Rail back in 2005, when Tanglewood Numbers came out.
From the intro (click anywhere on text to get the whole piece): >>Terse and enigmatic, occasionally ignoring questions outright, Berman was nearly impossible to pin down, which was especially frustrating since everyone wants to believe that their musical or literary heroes could easily be their drinking buddies or best friends. But Berman is a man who can say a lot even when he’s not saying much, and his general reticence served to increase the gravity of moments when he actually opened up. Just another part of the Berman package, I suppose.<<
| from |  M. Baumer |
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| to | Justin Taylor |
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| date | Thu, Dec 4, 2008 at 12:13 AM |
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| subject | a note from thieves jargon |
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| mailed-by | gmail.com |
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Hello Justin Taylor,
-Mark Baumer
—
www.thievesjargon.com
www.everydayyeah.com
Gee, that was random.
********BONUS********* JUSTIN TAYLOR REPLIES:
| rom | Justin Taylor |
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| to | “M. Baumer” |
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| date | Thu, Dec 4, 2008 at 11:33 AM |
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| subject | Re: a note from thieves jargon |
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| mailed-by | gmail.com |
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Hi, Mark, thanks for writing. I don’t really know what to make of your letter. To be honest, it doesn’t seem like it should have been addressed to me. It’s not exactly about any of the things I wrote about in my recent blog post, which itself was rather explicit about being somewhat predicated by, but hardly “about,” Matt DiGangi and Thieves Jargon–two entities about which I know very little, and not for lack of opportunity either.
I’m sorry that Matt has to edit boring textbooks. We must, all of us, do something. For example, I have to think of lesson plans and commute to New Jersey twice a week to teach my class, and then I have to grade my students’ papers. Let me tell you, brother, it’s no walk in the park, although I do get to walk through campus, which has many park-like qualities. Also, sometimes the students write things that are very funny. Typically, they have not done so on purpose.
Speaking of which, I have no idea what “when the internet was still good” means, but then I’m not the one who said it. Since you’re the one who said it, it is discomforting to know that you don’t know what it means either. Do you often make declarations incomprehensible even to yourself and then send them off in personal letters to strangers?
Personally, I think shoelaces both got really lame in the mid-90s, but they seem to have really re-emerged during the last year or two, totally transformed and ready to assert their relevance–even necessity, perhaps–to the culture. I can’t wait to see what happens with shoelaces next.
In closing, I wish that I could promise to keep your secret about the simplicity of your cake recipe from Jimmy, but the fact of the matter is that I’m almost certainly going to post your letter and my response (that is, this letter which I’m writing right now) on HTMLGiant later this afternoon, or possibly even this morning, so I guess he’ll probably learn the truth that way.
JT
************DOUBLE YOUR BONUS*********
M. BAUMER REPLIES TO THE REPLY:
| from | M. Baumer |
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| to | Justin Taylor |
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| date | Thu, Dec 4, 2008 at 12:52 PM |
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| subject | Re: a note from thieves jargon |
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| mailed-by | gmail.com |
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Hey Justin,
I give you permission to post my email without my permission.
Please include this:
I also want to say something about BB that makes fun of the way he gets off or something, but I am not very good at shit talking.
Justin, I think you want me to kill myself. ‘Shoelaces’ was my self-termination code word when I was created as a sad pot of soup on the back left burner. Then some family ate me.
I honestly think lots of people would consider being gay with BB’s blogspot account. I guess this is a compliment. Sometimes I worry about saying anything bad about BB and any other expert bloggers because in the back of my head I think, “If they kill themselves someone in the future will read this comment of me calling them a ‘shitfuck’ and then they’ll google my name and find my address and come to my house via google maps and dump un-erasable spam on my front lawn and my wife will say, ‘how could you say that?’ and then stop talking to me over gchat and i’ll marriage will be over.”
Oh well.
To Blake
“You’re a shitfuck. Don’t kill yourself.”
Are we having a feud now? About what?
I’m sure you’ve all been keeping up this week with Nextbook.org’s five part series on Kafka’s Office Writings, which I first blogged about on Monday. But in case you haven’t, this is a good time to look over what you’ve missed so you can be all caught up for the big (?) finale tomorrow. The series, as I’ve mentioned now several times, is authored by Joshua Cohen, quite possibly the youngest working critic to be described non-ironically as “venerable,” assuming he has ever actually been called that before, which, if he hasn’t–well he has now.
(clicking anywhere on the text of a given day takes you to that day on Nextbook)
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After you’ve had your fill of nonfiction, consider perhaps some of his other literature. Cohen is the author of five fine books out from presses that Giant readers and contributors alike have deep affection for: A Heaven of Others (Starcherone, 2008), Two Tribal Stories (Small Anchor, 2007), Aleph-Bet: An Alphabet for the Perplexed (Six Gallery, 2007), Cadenza for the Schneiderman Violin Concerto (Fugue State, 2007), The Quorum (Twisted Spoon, 2005). A new novel, Graven Imaginings, is forthcoming from Dalkey Archive. Better get on over to his website and see what the score is.
