Momentary Sayonara
Written byPosted on November 19, 2004
Filed Under McSweeney's, Personal
There’s nothing really to say. And the last thing I want to do is lecture like Neal Pollack. So I’m going the hell away for a week or so. I leave these pages to the annoying spammers, the killer barflies, and perhaps the Superfriends, if they even remember their passwords. No bullshit hiatus here. Just casual indifference and a return to these pages after a much needed lost weekend with Paul Giamatti. I might even teach a red state virgin a thing or two about reproductive rights.
Oh, and fuck you, Homeland Security.
[UPDATE BEFORE FLIGHT: Holy hell. Maud's opened up a can of whoopass on Neal Pollack. On the Pollack question, I should point out that Lenny Bruce's last days were spent reading from law books pointing out the absurdity of true writ. It was, by all reports, the dullest standup comic routine ever devised.
[Also, McSweeeney's Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories, Michael Chabon's followup to the Treasury of Thrilling Tales, is (so far), a marked improvement over its predecessor and well worth your time. It certainly helps that RotR fave David Mitchell has a Number9Dream-like tale in there, propinquitous to cool contributions from Margaret Atwood, Poppy Z. Brite, Jonathan Lethem, Roddy Doyle, China Mieville, Joyce Carol Oates, Stephen King and Peter Straub. Charges of nepotism aside (Julavits and Waldman show up), I'd love to see Chabon edit one of these things every year or two. Of course, if he could include a few overlooked folks like Paolo Bacigalupi, Barry Malzberg, Kelly Link, and the prolfiic Paul Di Fillipo, his rants against genre ghettoization might have more credibility. Now, flight.]
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5 Responses to “Momentary Sayonara”
Beyond Heaving Bosoms by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. The famed writers behind
Alice Fantastic by Maggie Estep. This wild and highly enjoyable narrative involves two sisters (presumably, the third one was still being rented out by Chekhov), a hippie ex-junkie mother who lives with seventeen dogs, a murder, gambling, and libidinous Hollywood actresses who live in Woodstock. But this is the wonderful Maggie Estep we're talking here. And what seems at first like a quirky yarn becomes something unexpectedly moving about connectivity. What I love about Estep's work is the way that she'll juxtapose an extremely astute observation (now that you mention it, why do cab drivers always have somebody to talk with on the phone past midnight?) with an often outrageous story development.
Generosity by Richard Powers. It doesn't come out until September 29th, but Richard Powers's latest will have anyone committed to books reconsidering their literary fervor. I foresee some animosity from the vanilla critics hostile to idea-driven novels, but book bloggers, YouTube chroniclers, and MFAs would do well to plunge into this chance-taking narrative, which introduces vital questions about what the reader's relationship is with media, scientific dissection, and "creative nonfiction." Are we rats fleeing to happy cities? Or can we find the humanism within the purported plague?
Pieces for the Left Hand by J. Robert Lennon. Lennon is one of the most underrated fiction writers working today. Much as On the Night Plain proved that Lennon had a lot more in the toolbox than heartfelt (and often very funny) suburban satire, this slim but fascinating volume juxtaposes 100 small-town anecdotes -- arranged by category -- in a manner that reads, at times, like Nicholson Baker's passions for minutiae and, at other times, Stewart O'Nan's concern for psychological detail. The result is fiction that makes us wonder about whether one person's subjective view of particulars can entirely be trusted. This book never found a publisher in 2005. But thankfully, Graywolf has released it in the United States, along with Lennon's latest novel, The Castle.
Wonderful World by Javier Calvo. This wonderfully raucous volume has been completely ignored by the Washington Post, the New York Times, and the Los Angeles Times. But it's probably one of the most delightful reading experiences I've had this year. Calvo cavalierly mashes up multiple genres and manages to mix up familial subtext with larger-than-life, almost cartoonish characters. (Indeed, one might argue that one mobster's penis is a character of its own in this sprawling novel.). This is not an easy thing to pull off, but Calvo makes it work. And it's helped immeasurably by Mara Faye Lethem's idiom-specific translation. (
The Means of Reproduction, Michelle Goldberg This thoughtful book tackles the complicated (and little discussed) subject of reproductive rights from numerous angles, which includes a number of unpleasant but necessary ones. The upshot is that there isn't a quick fix solution for declining birth rates and fundamentalist abuses. Just about every political faction has contributed to the friction. But you'll want to read this book anyway to refamiliarize yourself with the topic, but also to understand just what's occurred during the past several decades to get us where we are today. (
Couldn’t agree with you more, but feel compelled to point out that Kelly had a story in Thrilling Tales (it was actually inspired by the concept of the …is this a cat? zine by FOW).
I agree too. Started reading the collection last night and got thrilling goosebumps. FWIW, the Julavits story gave me the serious CREEPS. I kept looking over my shoulder.
p.s. Isn’t Maud’s whoop-ass a marvelous thing?
Gwenda: Actually, I cited Kelly Link specifically BECAUSE she appeared in the last one. The thing about these Chabon compilations is that if they intend to introduce an audience to “thrilling tales” or “astonishing stories,” then it would be prudent to single out the resolute storytellers that can be found in the so-called genre mags. That’s all I’m saying.
Haven’t hit Julavits yet, Carrie, but Mitchell’s sentence, “Hotel rooms store up erotic charge, and men sleeping alone are its copper wires” alone is worth the price of admission.
Literary sidenote: Brad Leithauser’s Seaward also has a great passage about the irresistible urge to masturbate in motels. (An impulse, I should add, not confined to men.)
Maybe there should be an anthology of this type of story as well? “Thrilling Tales of Pulling The Copper Wire at The Ramada”?
Ah, I see what you’re saying. The way I read it originally was that the credible would come if he included them, which he has (at least one cited anyway). I personally think he earned street cred by including Carol Emshwiller in vol. 1; everything else is cake. I can’t remember how the biographical notes were written, but it seems like it would be odd to single out the fact that some of these writers are genre and some aren’t overtly other than in listing publications? Anyway, my head hurts and I’m away from my books!
(And I thought the Conjunctions issue that came out around the same time had much stronger fantastical work.)