Tag Archives: books

Kristen Eliason’s ‘Yours,’

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Just a quick post to give whatever minor signal boost I can about this stunning chapbook. I had the pleasure of hearing Kristen Eliason read pieces from this series a few years ago at Notre Dame where she was the 2008 Sparks Fellowship winner. She’s a powerful reader and the poems are complete knockouts. It made me so happy to finally see them in print, and this chapbook from Dancing Girl Press is more than worth your dollars. Somber, quiet, introspective, heartbreaking, and very funny.

‘Yours,’ is available HERE

My Top 5 Books of 2014

It’s about that time again, isn’t it? We’re all just about ready to shrug into an awkwardly fitting new year, and all of the LISTICLES are flowering. Here then are my top 5 reads of this past year; note, these aren’t necessarily books that came out this year.

1) The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt

2) The Martian, by Andy Weir

3) The Peripheral, by William Gibson

4) Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, by Haruki Murakami

5) Ready Player One, by Ernest Cline

Honorable Mentions: In the Dust of This Planet, by Eugene Thacker, and Gun Machine by Warren Ellis

Lebbeus Woods’ War & Architecture and William Gibson’s The Peripheral

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“Architecture and war are not incompatible. Architecture is war. War is architecture. I am at war with my time, with history, with all authority that resides in fixed and frightened forms. I am one of millions who do not fit in, who have no home, no family, no doctrine, no firm place to call my own, no known beginning or end, no “sacred and primordial site.” I declare war on all icons and finalities, on all histories that would chain me with my own falseness, my own pitiful fears. I know only moments, and lifetimes that are as moments, and forms that appear with infinite strength, then “melt into air.” I am an architect, a constructor of worlds, a sensualist who worships the flesh, the melody, a silhouette against the darkening sky. I cannot know your name. Nor you can know mine. Tomorrow, we begin together the construction of a city.”

Came across this man’s work today at random and have been utterly obsessed with it. I have to imagine William Gibson has been inspired in some part this aesthetic — it screams the interstitial constructions and communities that are a large recurring theme in his books (chiefly, ‘The Bridge’ of The Bridge Trilogy comes to mind). Woods spoke about needing a way to see architecture in chaos, in the throws of climactic events… some deep part of my brain is trying to tie this in with  all of the bleak, gorgeous brain-scrambling Warren Ellis has been doing of late over at MORNING, COMPUTER.

Also, there’s Gibson’s newest, ‘The Peripheral’, finally out…I’m reading it at a strangely slow pace, partially because this is how I read my favorite writers, typically, and Gibson always. Partially it’s the structure of the book — it has absolutely zero ‘fat’ to it, it’s completely lean. It’s sparse in a literal sense but so immensely dense that you have to digest it slowly. He has more or less removed any kind of exposition at all, an ultimate gesture of ‘show don’t tell’. Description and dialogue, mood and character. The sci-fi markers and associated language of slang and other misc. signifiers are set before the reader, demanding to be made sense of. I remember way back in HS when I tried to get a friend into Neuromancer and he couldn’t get through 50 pages, saying it was just too hard to understand. Neuromancer practically spoon-fed you by comparison. I think some of this has to do with the fact that Gibson knows he has the sort of rare cachet with his readers, he knows that they’ll not only do the work but will love to do it. It’s ambitious, period, and possibly only something that could’ve been done with the confidence that comes with having done something well for a long time and been recognized.

There’ll certainly be a lot more to connect these two current obsessions after I finally finish the book, but they keep screaming to each other across the nether regions of my brain. Both of the futures in The Peripheral are fractured, cascading, held together by grand walls of customized minutiae and thin black cables.

GQ in conversation with William Gibson: Just how fucked are we?

Read the wonderful interview here.

This is a great interview; I’m d.y.i.n.g. for his new book coming out next week. I feel like Gibson has an almost singular genius for being able to seemingly reach at will and get the pulse of Western cultural anxieties, that he then just…curates into something bleak, funny, textured, but with some vague tinge of hope, po-mo nihilism only sometimes tongue-in-cheek.

Misc. Ratings

Books

‘Bird Box’,  by Josh Malerman — 4

‘Asylum’, by Madeline Roux — 3.5

‘The Martian’, by Andy Weir — 5 !!!

‘Friendship’, by Emily Gould — 3.5

‘Gun Machine’, by Warren Ellis — 4

‘Virtual Light’, by William Gibson (reread) — 5

‘Pattern Recognition’, by William Gibson (reread) — 5

‘Ready Player One’, by Ernest Cline — 4.5

TV

True Detective (season 1) — 5 !!!

Masters of Sex (season 2) — 4

Film

House of Wax — 3

Mama — 3.5

Not much to note; have been getting some good reading in. Cannot overstate how good ‘The Martian’ is, better than all the hype had even lead me to believe it would be. So incredibly smart, funny, and well paced. Ready Player One was as well, a book I wish I had gotten around to reading sooner.  Warren Ellis’ latest was everything I hoped for — the man simply doesn’t know how to put bad writing out into the world. He’s just so damn funny, in the blackest way possible, and simply knows how to write a good story. I was building my altar to him after ‘Transmetropolitan’ back when I was 17, and he’s never once disappointed me since.  There’s something incredibly earnest about how he approaches writing and his readers, he’s simply harsh enough on himself that he’ll never let a piece of shit out and tell you it’s worth your time. If he puts his name on it, you’re going to get him at his best.

Reread a bit of Gibson as sort of an old ritual, as he has his latest coming out later this month. I don’t really mark my calendar for any writer except Murakami and Gibson. Everyone is I love is insanely great, but those two are floating in their own universe, and  getting new novels from both of them this year feels like winning the lottery to me. Was thinking of rereading the entire ‘Blue Ant’ trilogy, but I’d really like to clear off some other pressing to-reads, as after finishing Gibson’s new ‘The Peripheral’ I plan to very seriously set aside most if not all of my reading to focus on writing again. I’ve had a couple ideas really eating away at my skull the last few years. Not sure which I’m really feeling right now, but I’m starting to lean a bit, having begun spending my time (via catching up on Ellis’ newest comics work) with comics again. We’ll see.

Stopped very early in the ‘Under 40’ alt-lit anthology just because…I don’t know. I feel the ‘alt lit’ ‘thing’ here and there, it never seems to quite sustain for long. Then I caught the slightest whiffs of all the mega cluster-fuckery going around Tao Lin ant HTML giant and everything and I just didn’t feel like it. There’s great writing in this anthology and I plan to come back to it down the road, it’s just not ringing my bells right now.

I’m working through Yerra Sugarman’s ‘The Bag of Broken Glass’, but I only read it in the late hours when I feel most focused, and it’s easily the most emotionally charged poetry I’ve read in a very, very long time, maybe ever. It’s a truly heartbreaking collection and I just can’t read it quickly, so it’ll take a bit.

I don’t know what to say about True Detective (season 1). Like Breaking Bad, I was sure it was good and had heard enough about it from people whose taste I trust that I knew it’d be good, but I had no idea it’d be the truly dark and strange and perfect beast that it is. Whatever big awards it pulls in (especially MM) it absolutely deserves without reservation. It took me to places I hadn’t felt since maybe Twin Peaks. I think it may have shot it’s own load though, I don’t know if any further seasons will ever match the voodoo that season 1 did, but I’m happy to be proven wrong. Easily, easily the best writing / acting / direction of any TV show since Breaking Bad, hands down, no contest.

Bruce Sterling’s ‘The Epic Struggle of the Internet of Things’

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This long essay from probably the most acutely insightful futurists of maybe even a couple of generations is completely a steal at $4. Get it on Amazon, like, fucking yesterday.

So the Internet of Things is not a coup d’état, it’s not Orwellian totalitarianism at work. However, it’s definitely about power, and also wealth and fame. Making your refrigerator talk to your toaster is a senseless trick that any competent hacker can achieve today for twenty bucks. It is trivial, but the Internet of Things is epic. It will entail a struggle — not for the Internet of Things, or against it — but inside, as it both grows and fails.

MORNING, COMPUTER

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There’s no writer / blogger / creator whose brain I most try to invade and shamelessly steal from as Warren Ellis.

Since 14 or so, every artistic obsession of mine (what I consume, what I want to create) is rooted in his varied, rich, visceral, staggering career.

Cityscapes, the dirty urban, the sprawling technet, the weird and shimmering PRESENT and all the ways it is tense, convulsing, reaching.

Rant over — but his scribblings over at are so beyond worth subjecting your eyeballs and feeble brains to.

Time for Dr Whisky and re-reading FreakAngels. Gnight dearest comrades.

Misc. Ratings

Books

‘You Can Make Anything Sad’, by Spencer Madsen — 4
‘Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, by Haruki Murakami — 4
‘Walls’, by Andrew Duncan Worthington — 3
‘Even Though I Don’t Miss You’, by Chelsea Martin — 4

Film

Transformers: Age of Extinction — 0.5
V/H/S/2 — 1.5

TV

American Horror Story, season 2 — 4.5

Poetry is nothing and yes it matters

Today’s NYT Room for Debate asking, ‘Does Poetry Matter?’

 

Stolen from twitter, my only response to this is “Fuck off with this question already.” Poetry doesn’t quite ‘do’ anything, no art does, that’s its eternal power (and the source of all the eternal ‘criticism’ it and the other arts get); it won’t put food on your table (probably) or solve violence in the Middle East or really anything else. What it ‘does’ is help fill in the vacuum between all these things and make days filled with hunger and violence a little more worthwhile.

40 Likely to Die Before 40 (Alt Lit anthology) Notes #1: Sam Pink

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(excerpt from his book, ‘Person’)

pg. 17 “I’m walking around Chicago, feeling like a piece of shit.”
     —I really liked this line, but for very unique/personal/weird reasons, probably. I’ve always been obsessed with big cityscapes. Chicago is one of only two major cities I’ve been to, and it’s the one I’ve been to most often & have the most positive associations with (the other being Detroit and negative). I’ve basically had a hard time falling asleep every night that I can remember, and especially during very stressful times in my life when trying to fall asleep at night I try to calm down by imagining walking around Chicago, filling in as many details and places from memory as possible. So both frequently in my imagination as well as a few times in real life I’ve literally had intense moments of thought and imagination while walking around Chicago feeling like a piece of shit.

pg. 18 “I always think about getting randomly hurt and how awesome it would be to just immediately be changed and removed from my situation. // To have something direct to worry about, like a broken leg or a really big cut.”
     —I feel like I can very much relate to this concept. It’s importantly not suicidal or desiring of pain, but entirely emotional / at a sort of stoic remove. It seems like a combination of feelings of frustrating stasis (wanting something to badly change but not knowing what/how/why to best achieve this changing) and a desire to have a focal point for anxiety/sadness/anger. This seems to be a very consistent theme in a lot of ‘alt lit’ and my own existence, the cliche generalized depression & even without contemplating how to change that feeling there’s a desire to have a direct and concrete locus to grasp onto. While never a cutter myself my understanding is that this is sort of why some people with depression/anxiety/stress cut, giving a clear physical sensation/point of focus, a way of funneling or releasing those feelings. I really enjoy the hyper-awareness of self / thoughts / emotions in this excerpt, and again it’s a consistent theme in alt lit. I feel like I really enjoyed reading one of Tao Lin’s poetry books where he talks a lot about what I perceived as both intrigue and annoyance at the ability of energy drinks to affect his worldview; I think there’s an echo of that concept here.

pg. 18 (general) The amount of self-deprecation is bothering me a little, making me feel slightly that it’s too affected / overdone, but that makes me think about how I usually like things being ‘overdone’ or excessive so maybe I like this, but I’m really not sure.

pg. 19 “And I can see either accepting everything that happens, or accepting none, but in between I lose hope.”
     —I really connect to this worldview. In a larger more abstract sense this seems to be my personality/approach to everything, I have a very addictive and obsessive personality; I’m never happy unless I’m doing something with extreme commitment, I don’t really do ‘hobbies’ well or dabble in things, I have to be doing things full bore or I think ‘What’s the point’. I’ve always not liked or not agreed with Socrates or whoever it was about ‘Moderation in all things’, the whole philosophy of moderation being the key to happiness. While self-evidently true in many things, as a larger philosophy it’s lost on me. I like how that idea is articulated here, how muddling about ‘in the middle’ means perhaps letting go of a more concrete / persuasive narrative.

pg. 20 “People are skating there together. // None invited me. // No, I don’t know, I mean that’s how I want it.”
     —Another recurring theme at least as I’ve perceived it in many alt lit pieces (and I feel a great deal of empathy toward this feeling) — the paradox of wanting to not be alone but also having social anxiety / wanting to be alone to do certain things or write, which inevitably incurs a kind of bittersweet loneliness.

pg. 20 “Not quite a piece of shit myself, but the streak for sure. // For sure the area the shit passes over and leaves behind parts of itself.”
     —I know this feeling and relate to it, but mostly marked this bit because I thought it was really funny, I laughed out loud.

pg. 21 “I want to itch my back until I feel pain. // No, I don’t know.”
     —Not this passage specifically, but it’s an example of a recurring rhetorical device / thought mechanic, where the speaker states something, a feeling or opinion, then immediately seems to reflect on it and reverse course, sort of like the skating passage. I think everyone has these moments if they’re honest with themselves, it’s interesting to me how it illuminates how quickly we can perceive/judge something or someone, have an authentic emotional response we feel in the moment is genuine and accurate but literally a second later we’ve already engaged in honest introspection and concluded we were wrong. This happens I think as easily with banal moments (like the one quoted) as it does with more complicated / deeply felt moments.

pg. 25 “In resisting the urge I feel like something like a rush of energy through my heart-area.”
     —Again this is one example of a recurring device, where the speaker uses strangely ambiguous descriptions. I feel like most of the time I understand why, because some sensations feel very vague in this is just attempting to be accurate, but sometimes it feels awkward / forced and I don’t know what it’s accomplishing and I don’t like it, it feels like a slack gesture, e.g. at one point the speaker talks about thoughts going into his ‘head-hole’.

pg. 27 (general) I really liked this scene in the 7-11, the kind of banal everyday but weird things that just happen, weird scenes we play a part in that could almost be some art house movie scene.

pg. 29 “My history is the history of things imagined and not-happened.”
     —I love this, I think it captures the feeling of how much time we spend playing out possibilities not only to current / future choices or occurrences but also reflecting on past choices and experiences and how it could’ve gone better or differently. I also had just read a quote or something somewhere on twitter I think, a quote by someone about life being 65% what-if. I just now remember this was a line from a recent Dean Young poem but I’m not going to look it up, but it was a funny chance connection and I think they’re both getting at the same thing.

pg 29. “I live in Chicago and I don’t get along with a lot of people and the reasons are always new and wonderful.”
     —Final line of the excerpt, and it it just touches back on everything throughout very well.