As regular readers know, back in the day, I made a deal with a man at a crossroads who pledged to give me a mysterious potato salad recipe (along with guitar lessons), if I would continue to reference the adventures of Jonathan Ames. Well, I’ve been doing this for quite a while. And there hasn’t been a potato salad recipe sent to my mailbox. So I thought that I would begin to take my involvement on the Ames reporting front to the next level.
Somehow, I’ve been coaxed by very pleasant people to be a part of the Craig Davison-Jonathan Ames “exhibition sparring event” (note the new terminology) that’s happening at Gleason’s Boxing Gym (83 Front Street) on Tuesday, July 24, 2007 at 8:00 PM. (If you heard about this event before, please note the new venue. Apparently, an amateur boxing law prohibiting opponents who were more than ten years apart in age from fighting forced the event’s organizers to find a new venue.)
At the very least, I hope to offer a few between-rounds interviews with Davidson and Ames for a future installment of The Bat Segundo Show. (Mr. Ames and I have been trying to get a third Segundo interview set up for some months now.) But I may also be involved, in part, with emceeing this event. If this turns out to be the case, having never announced a boxing match before, I plan to dutifully study the history of past boxing announcers and give it my all. That’s the very least I can do under the circumstances. A lot of this, of course, depends upon the organizers and my recurrent laryngitis, which is not fully recovered but well on the way to being gone.
But don’t let my dubious participation stop you from attending what is surely one of the craziest literary publicity stunts seen in some time. Here are two writers who would willingly beat the shit out of each other to promote their names. Would you go that distance?
Here’s the flyer:
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (
Ed, I wish I could be there! But since I can’t I want to warn you that if you go on Thursday, you’ll be two days late.
Thanks, Carolyn!
Ames acts like a gentleman but he’s a freakin’ maniac in the ring. He’s gonna tear that kid apart!
Anybody know who won?