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.
POSTCARD #122: GROWING UP DEAD
This shit is badass and I am not even kidding at all.
Not by Michael Kimball, but also potentially of interest is the following:
I remembered this book as having "Postcards" in the title, and by the time I figured out what it actually was I had spent too much time looking for it not to use what I found, and for whatever it's worth one of the essays in it is actually about The Grateful Dead.
Anyway, here’s Matt addressing Blake:
>>Thanks, again, for being honest. That’s why HTML Giant is awesome.
I like being a stick in the mud as well, which is why I just removed your story and bio from the Thieves Jargon archive.<<
This caught my attention, because something very similar was said to me recently after I made some disparaging comments about my own work which had appeared in a back issue of a certain web journal which will not be named. (Mine came in the form of a threat; I haven’t checked to see if it was carried out.) Basically the editor’s thesis was, if I was critical of my own work, and by extension her magazine for publishing it (fairness to her: I was, and am) then fuck me too and she would “un-publish” me as a punishment.
I don’t know Matt, and I don’t read Thieves’ Jargon, so I’ve got nothing to say about him or his project that’s based on research or first-hand experince. But his comment, which may well have been made in jest, for all I know, really stuck with me, because in both cases–mine, and his, assuming the comment was in earnest–there seems to be a prevailing and unquestioned assumption that the purpose of publishing writing is to generate for the author a kind of “capital” or “currency,” which is then in some psychic sense “owed” to the editor, who seems to see him/herself as a sort of issuing bank.
This is a very bad way to think of yourself as an editor, and about the purpose of your editorial project in general. Of course, we know that at a certain level it is the truth of the case–a writer indeed does “get” something very real, albeit intangible (I don’t mean the check) from being in The New Yorker that s/he don’t get from being in Bicycle Goat Review. (Though, conversely, depending who you want to impress, you may well get something from Bicycle Goat that you don’t or can’t from the NY’ker. )
The question, to me, is whether generating this “currency” is the primary goal of the publication or just a happy side-effect. Answering this question is really easy. If you have to think about the answer to it for even a second, or if you are coming on the end of this sentence I’m typing now and still don’t know the answer, let me give you a clue: DON’T EDIT ANYTHING. YOU’RE NOT READY AND YOU WON’T BE GOOD AT IT.
When an editor of an electronic journal, who is in the unique situation of being able to “unpublish” in a way that no print editor can, threatens or actually carries out such an action, what they seem to reveal to me is the cravenness and intellectual bankruptcy of their own enterprise. When you do this, you deal a serious blow to your project’s institutional memory, its continuity, and its integrity. Plus you give a fiendishly literal twist to the phrase “So and so has been published in Bicycle Goat” as it appears in three-line bios all over the face of this great world.
Mourning the victims of Stalin's purges.
One of the most important things an editor can do is stand by the work he or she has published, even if–especially when–the author no longer does. We expect the author to grow and change, and maybe even to disown old work to make way for the new. The editor–especially when s/he is also the publisher and sole proprietor of the enterprise–is supposed to be a somewhat more practical cat, and to have a somewhat longer view of the situation.
Questions: if you “unpublish” me from your journal, does that mean my work is unpublished now? Is this like being a born-again virgin? And if I have a second change of heart, and love my work again, can I take the stuff you removed from Bicycle Goat and send it over to A Public Space? If/when my book comes out, and my work that you un-published is in it, should I put your journal on the copyright page like this: “Dinosaurs are Awesome” first appeared in Bicycle Goat A Public Space.
Crisis on infinite earths! Oh noes!
I’ll be the first to argue that editing and curating are artistic endeavors–at least as much as writing is–so if you want to disown an entire editorial project, that’s one thing, but to re-evaluate and selectively remove work you actually enjoyed and admired and were proud to publish based on personal offense at that writer’s (a) behavior, (b) lack of quid pro quo, (c) change of heart in re their own work and/or your magazine, (d) other, makes you one thing and one thing only: a bad editor.
Sorry, kids, but them’s the breaks.
Purity of heart is to will one thing.
Shouldn't the Union have seen this one coming?
Before deciding whether a man is a fool or a good artist, it would be well to ask, not only: ‘is he excited unduly’, but: ‘does he see something we don’t?’
Is his curious behavior due to his feeling an oncoming earthquake, or smelling a forest fire which we do not yet feel or smell?
Barometers, wind-gauges, cannot be used as engines.
–ABC of Reading, Chapter Eight
not Joshua Cohen. Or Kafka.
Check back at Nextbook.org every day this week for a new installment of Joshua Cohen’s writing about Kafka’s Office Writings. Also, there may be periodic updates here, highlighting our favorite pieces from the series and/or reminding you to go read it.
Who could say no to this mug?
Or this bug?
Poet Julia Cohen has been asking people for advice over at her blog, On the Messier Side of Neat:
>>I’m reading Everybody’s Autonomy by Juliana Spahr. I’m on page 14 so I have a ways to go. What I would really appreciate is if you, in the comment box, let me know which theory or philosophy book was the most transformative for you. What has most deeply impacted your way of thinking/writing? I will then read it.
Whoever recommends the book that then impacts me the most will receive a prize greater than or equal to one pound of elk meat. Ok, greater.<<
Here’s some of what’s come in so far:
Our own Mike Young got first comment, with >>The work of Emmanuel Levinas, specifically Totality and Infinity.<<
A guy named Gary McDowell suggested Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics of Space, along with an apology that it was such a cliche choice. No shame in a crowd, Gary! I’ve read that book too.
I went on this long-winded spiel about the nature of the question, then finally got around to naming Zizek’s Puppet and the Dwarf.
Mathias Svalina of Octopus Books (and of going steady with Julia Cohen) fame, picked The Giving Tree, but then Julia said her mom thinks that book is sexist, and pointedly thanked “everyone else.” (Hmm. Did I just start an “internet rumor?” Can I classify this post under “web hype” now?)
Kitchen Press (aka Justin Marks) weighed in with this: >> Why Did I Ever, by Mary Robison. It’s marketed as a novel, i guess because she calls herself a novelist, but one could certainly argue for it as a prose poem. or lyric novel. or some mixed genre something or other.<<
And other people wrote other things too. Maybe YOU will win the elk meat?
This could be your new life.
par oft an ongoing series, wherein my friend Danielle watches Jeopardy! and then emails me a diary of her concerns.
Oh my God, Alex Trebek has totally crossed the line now. First of all, the panel must have the lowest combined age of all time, and they’re attractive too. It’s like for one magical day someone parted the dark, pendulous storm clouds that hang eternally over the Jeopardy! set, and the light shone down upon these three rare specimens. And this totally sexy-librarian type is answering almost every single question; I mean she’s killing it. And as hot as that is, I almost feel bad for the dudes because they seem, of all things, pretty okay. Anyway, the girl just goes on smoking these guys’ asses and at the first commercial break I’m like, You know, there’s something magically rad about this episode. Okay, so: commercial break, and then back to the show, and as they zoom in on the set, I’m feeling pretty sweet. And then I realize that Alex has moved from his podium. He is standing next to the cool, nerdy girl, asking himself the question that–let’s face it, I watch a lot of Jeorpardy! and I think we can both agree that I really get it, so just trust me–could–nay, will– change her life forever: Of all the dumb facts on this gay blue card, which can I use to bring the greatest shame and humiliation upon this woman and her family? “She has a Master’s degree in something that I think would be very, very useful and important in this day and age”? Really? What? It seems that Alex is actually quite taken with her and not at all his usually you-look-like-someone-who’s-got-a-vagina-so-it’s-time-to-think-of-a-way-to-make-you-feel-bad-about-yourself self. It turns out that her degree was in Plant,Soil, and Environmental Science, but she was in the sustainable agriculture program doing good for the underdog but helping small farm farmers reduce their reliance on herbicides. “Okay, so what’s the best way to do that?” he asks. Really? What? Fill me in on the major findings of your master’s thesis and do be aware that I will interrupt you almost immediately? It’s like he’s an asshole by accident whenever he’s not busy being an asshole on purpose. So she handles fine and says “Be careful” which is kind of whatever, but okay at least you said something. And then Alex says, “That’s it? Just be careful?” RRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. He ruined the whole show for me.
[the following appeared a few minutes later in a separate email. -ed.]
The guy next to the environmental scientist just graduated from business school, where he studied marketing, and Alex tells him, Good for you, good for you.
A press gang.
Qin Gang's Press Conference
So last Tuesday I read some poems at an event put on by Boog City (site seems out of date) which featured four indie presses: X-ing Books (my guys), Open 24 Hours Press (no site I could find), Farfalla Press, and The Press Gang. Well, as you might imagine, everybody had the best time ever. I ate some cheese, and Anne Waldman did this terrifying thing where she shouts what might be Wikipedia entry about manatees over a boombox soundtrack of something that sounds like the music on the first Ani Difranco/Utah Philips collaboration. (I’ve actually seen her do this twice now, so I guess it’s like a thing.) Anyway, my favorite thing was The Press Gang, who put up an impossibly emo young poet named Evan Kennedy, who compulsively kicked the floor with his boot while he read. After the reading, one of the editors high-fived m and then gave me a copy of issue #1 of their ‘zine, vehicular. Then they wanted to come out drinking with us and I wanted them to come but then someone I was with said where we were going wasn’t really that kind of place, and her brother was in town visiting–all of which was true–so we didn’t get to hang out. Next time, next time.
Anyway, the zine, which is photocopied unbound pages tied up with a string, is a split between two writers: J.D. Mitchell-Lumsden and Evan Kennedy. JDM-L makes weird blocks of prose and presents things that look like they are diagrams, or used to be, or maybe will be soon. Kennedy, writing as “Evan Abandoned,” presents a sequence (?) of Bowie/club-kid inspired poems. Despite one poem actually containing the refrain “I am as lonely as a poetry reading,” it’s really interesting work, and I think he’s onto something. Evan’s section of vehicular is entitled “All the Young Dudes,” and here’s a poem from it, which I typed up just for you (I tried to approximate his spacing, but it’s admittedly a best-guess sort of job).
“In a Season of Switchblades”
for Saint Augustine
After an awkward phase, our bodies
became a pleasure to look at;
we got the hint that things were starting
to fill out.
We joined the Wreckers and
received matching coats. We bred
a subtle trouble through the school halls.
Even a little danger loved was death won.
There were the bloody-nosed at the video arcade
and haircuts in the bowling alley bathroom.
On one wall a portrait of Cabeza de Vaca,
another, all the animals he brought.
There were Swishers to smoke and
showers to get the stink off. The Cineplex
was brimming with unheard-of poetries.
The heroes were attributed human sins,
but not ours.
There was the tree we shook
after skinny dipping; pears fell into
mud that was up to our knees. Two eggs
dropped as well, and we palmed them.
+
BONUS: REFERENCE GUIDE TO EVAN “ABANDONED” KENNEDY’S “IN A SEASON OF SWITCHBLADES.”
Saint Augustine
Saint Augustine, FLA
The chorus of "Saint Augustine" by moe. goes "God is light, light is good, yeah God is good."
"He was trampled and killed in front of me. They took me down too...I literally had to fight people off my back." - Jimmy Overby, Wal-Mart employee
Fuck, man. I passed Valley Stream on the way to my cousin Jeff’s for Thanksgiving yesterday. His wife asked me if I was planning to go to any of the big special sales. It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about, then I said “why would anybody do that?”
Too bad nobody told those sick motherfuckers on Long Island about Buy Nothing Day. Oh, and just to give the rest of us some perspective:
"But Mom," my kids said when I told them what I'd done. "This is a FIRST-WORLD DEMOCRACY. Things like that might happen in Mexico, but not here." I told them they would understand when they got older.
So yesterday I had lunch with Rachel Sherman (author of The First Hurt), who also teaches at Rutgers. She’s wildly pregnant, and told me she’s due in about 7 weeks. She mentioned that the baby is a girl, and I asked if she and her husband had a name picked out. She said there were several in the running, but nothing was settled. I suggested that maybe the best way to come to a decision was through an internet contest. And so, after I agreed to her single and only stipulation–which is that the results are non-binding–she basically told me to go knock myself out.
So it’s now up to YOU to help NAME RACHEL SHERMAN’S BABY. The rules of the game are simple: post your nomination for the baby’s name in the comments section of this post. Eventually, Rachel will pick a winner, and also explain what type of winner you are: (1) “winner” in the sense of “yeah I might totally call my kid that” or (2) “winner” in the sense of “that was really funny slash original slash offensive of you, but seriously dude.” (UPDATE: Rachel says the winner also gets a signed copy of The First Hurt.)
To help get you in the right spirit, here’s a picture of a tiny adorable primate clutching a teddy bear.
Melchizedek Priesthood, Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, 1944
Featuring Matt Bell, Steve Almond, our own Jimmy Chen, and nine other people.
Twelve Stories says that they will put out an issue whenever they reach the critical mass of having–wait for it–twelve stories that they want to publish. I like this attitude.
Molly Gaudry (not pictured) and Blythe Winslow (not pictured) are the editors of Twelve Stories.