The Scoop

This is The Confederate Soldier from Big Sur by Richard Brautigan. I bought it on an afternoon trip to Olympia with Freddie, the one where we drove to Aberdeen after wards, listening to conservative talk radio the entire way, & stopped at Kurt Cobain’s first house, & the Star Wars store. The bookstore in Olympia was next to a burrito place with a bar attached. It was called Quality Burrito & it was a good burrito but not worth the nine dollars, which is a lot for a burrito. The book was in the “Beat Poets” section. It was wrapped in plastic & had a note indicating that it was second edition, above its price, as if to justify charging for it.

The narrator follows a wanderer throughout the bay of the 1960′s. The wanderer swears that his grandfather was a general in the civil war, & the narrator constructs a lengthy metaphor in which our hero is a confederate soldier fighting the culture war. Any past readers of Brautigan will recognize his simple, breezy, lyrical frankness. New readers will be pleasantly surprised as Brautigan maintains a refreshing levity throughout a melancholy work.

Weston Smith

Vonnegut vs. Vonnegut

My favorite work of Vonnegut’s is his last novel, Timequake, a book I was lucky enough to come across in the Sci-fi section of the ninth and Geary library [San Francisco, CA]. I had never even heard of the novel before.

Vonnegut spent nearly ten years writing Timequake & its only fitting that it has taken me months to write its review. It is unique, even among his other work, because it isn’t entirely a novel. Through Vonnegut’s stream-of-consciousness, the story follows key characters, including his alter ego Kilgore Trout, as they cope with a Universe that has forced them to repeat the last ten years of their lives.

The Universe, saddened by the decline of, well, everything, decides to go back through time to its much happier beginning. A short distance into its travels the Universe realizes that starting over will not change the outcome; that things are as they always will be, something Vonnegut has told us before. Picking back up in the year, 1991, the story’s inhabitants are forced to relive their lives exactly as they had the first time. The sad joke is that they know what they will do but cannot change it. If you chose the wrong spouse, drove drunk & killed someone, fell asleep with the candle lit and burnt your house down — all of it happening just as it had before, but this time with humanity on autopilot.

In the ten year re-run Kilgore Trout must re-write all the unsuccessful books he has already written. In this way we are introduced to a full collection of works started by Vonnegut himself but never finished. The book is sort of Vonnegut’s last hurrah—Kilgore is even the hero in the end. The book comes to collision as the year 2001 & the exact moment the Universe began moving backwards arrives. Free will returns but people have forgotten how it works. Planes fall from the sky, cars crash into buildings, people forget how to walk & fall to the ground. All but Kilgore Trout, who resuscitates them all with the simple phrase, “You were sick, but now you’re better & there’s work to do.”

It’s hard to review a book by Vonnegut without giving so much of the story itself, because so much of what Vonnegut writes is a direct expression of his own psyche. In the book he tells that this is not his first attempt at the novel, that Timequake One was a failure & what we are reading is Timequake Two. Though not much better, he criticizes, but more of what he was trying to accomplish. In the ten years it took Vonnegut to write & rewrite the novel it evolved into his own critique of all the things the world has lost or given up in the struggle for progress; all things he has been saddened to lose.

In my opinion, Slaughterhouse Five’s status as the “go to” Vonnegut is undeserved. I don’t argue that it isn’t a well written & well developed work of literature, it is spectacularly Vonnegut. Slaughterhouse Five joined the list of books taught to high school students because it was thought to be the most relatable for the average American; & perhaps, at the time it was. But so the war becomes what is focused on & the fantastical elements justified as analogies for pain & suffering, & ignored otherwise. But for me, the unnatural movement through space & time is what Vonnegut does so well. His ability to cover topics both rooted and other-worldly is what makes him an amazing writer, & one not chained to any specific genre. It is what makes each of his books contribution to the literary world

Antona Stanley

Something More Like a Feeling

I recently made a new friend via WordPress named Lua Fowles. Her blog is likeabowloforanges.wordpress.com & entails the struggles of both becoming a writer & the creative process of writing in general. There is something very personal about Lua’s blog. She writes with an intimacy about her profession that I may never be able to do myself.

Below are excerpts from her most recent story, “Something More Like a Feeling” which she has posted in its entirety on her own blog. The signs of good writing do not arrive all at once. But in bits and pieces through great sentences and paragraphs that flood the senses. Here are my favorite parts of “Something More Like a Feeling.”

Favorite parts in order of appearance:

“Finally, the boat moved with a loud, piercing whistle and started to divide the Bosporus into half as it made its way to the Asian part of the City. The cold wind stroked Mina’s face and she closed her eyes. The sound of the water was amazing… Marmara Sea, just floating like one, giant, mystical river between the two continents, sounding like a mutinous God to Mina’s ears. Poseidon’s rebellious son for simply dividing two continents, keeping them so close to each other yet causing so much difference, she thought. She opened her eyes and as soon as she did, she saw the Maiden’s Tower… There it was, that little tower standing on a tiny little island all by itself in the middle of an angry, dark river, forced to witness the division of the two continents everyday. Whenever Mina saw this tower, which was the first Sunday of every month, the same thought crossed her mind, It looks so lonely, I wonder how she stands against the current for so long.”

“She put two spoon fulls of Turkish coffee into the copper pot and added water. The secret was to not stir it with the spoon once you added the water… Every single woman in Turkey is a fortune teller, she thought to herself. There was always a coffee cup closed upside down to its saucer and waiting for the right eyes to come take a look and see the events of the near future. In every house… even in the government offices, Mina had witnessed that same closed cup on every woman’s desk. And if there is a closed cup, there is a Turkish woman who’s there to tell the fortune.”

Lua Fowles has great insight into Turkish life and also its geography. I have never been to Turkey and always enjoy reading stories about places I have yet to visit. I guess you can say I am an armchair traveler of sorts. If you wish to read all of this story please visit likeabowloforanges.wordpress.com.

Causeless Rebellion

I must admit, in spite of having a Bachelor of Arts in English & being a writer, I have never cared much for grammatical rules. I received my first fail in the third grade on none other than a grammar worksheet. In the twelfth grade, I once shouted, “what the fuck is a preposition?” in the middle of my AP Literature class. By the time college came around, my professors assumed I knew all that stuff.

The truth is: I did.

I didn’t learn grammar from repetitive worksheets or how-to writing manuals. I learned from reading voraciously. If I was unsure about whether or not a comma went inside or outside quotations, I consulted whatever novel I was currently reading. As a tutor at an after school program, I would circle comma splices & fragment sentences explaining to my students “you can’t be going to the store.” But when they asked, “Why?” I had no answer for them. It’s true. In teaching situations, why matters, but from a writer’s point of view, if it comes naturally & correctly because grammar was engrained in you through the organic process of reading, then is it really necessary to know why’s answer? Honestly, I don’t think so.

Some rules matter. For instance, when to use a semi-colon. Or the difference between who & whom. Who & Whom is the arch nemesis of grammar. This complex & unnecessary policy has forced me to research its rules on my own. After skim reading several grammar websites, I still don’t get it. Solution: avoid syntax that may place you in Who-Whom’s way.

Grammar is important. I understand this. One poorly structured sentence can skew an entire paragraph’s meaning. However, there are times when bad grammar can add depth to a work. Example: “local color” dialects. Normally, I steer clear of novels written completely in local dialect. I am currently reading The Book of Night Women by Marlon James which is written entirely in Jamaican English. The narrator often makes simple statements that are suprisingly profound because the jumbled words add meaning to what is written. When Lilith, the main character, sees her master for the first time his red hair is described as being on fire. “She see him plenty time from far but never look at him before. She look at him hair blaze” (James 79). When a person with a small vocabulary & a poor understanding of the English language has to explain what they see or are thinking, they are forced to choose words carefully. Although I am proficient in Spanish, there are plenty of vocabulary words I do not know. As a result, I often have to describe what I am talking about instead of speaking about the object/subject in question directly. This idea of speaking around the right word changes viewpoints, & ultimately, the image.

This is a liberal take on something most creative writing enthusiasts & literature junkies are serious about. Coming from an experimental writer who believes fragmented sentences implemented in short stories can add to a line & often, the piece’s meaning – I am biased. But, the English language is a tongue versatile enough to hold various, constantly evolving dialects, so why are we so resistant to exploring & challenging grammatical forms in print?

Is experimental & vernacular writing ignorance? Causeless rebellion? Or just a fresh take on the same old same old?

Candice Mays

10 Tips for Fiction Writers

The Guardian posted a great article titled “Ten Rules for Writing Fiction.” Various well known writers, including Margaret Atwood, submitted their top ten rules. Below is my favorite top ten list by Richard Ford.

1 Marry somebody you love and who thinks you being a writer’s a good idea.

2 Don’t have children.

3 Don’t read your reviews.

4 Don’t write reviews. (Your judgment’s always tainted.)

5 Don’t have arguments with your wife in the morning, or late at night.

6 Don’t drink and write at the same time.

7 Don’t write letters to the editor. (No one cares.)

8 Don’t wish ill on your colleagues.

9 Try to think of others’ good luck as encouragement to yourself.

10 Don’t take any shit if you can ­possibly help it.

My Top Ten:

1. Look like yourself. Wearing fedoras & vintage clothing just because it’s so San Franciscan will dilute your credibility & make others question how serious you are about really being a writer.

2. Stop talking about what you want to write & start writing it.

3. Live in the world! Get your inspiration from life in 3D instead of your favorite author’s work. A writer’s voice isn’t found until he/she discovers what about the world moves him/her from participant and observer into commentator.

4. Read everything.

5. Check your ego while brushing your teeth. Every writer needs feedback & constructive criticism. Even if you don’t agree with what an editor has to say, listen intently. Ego prevents writers from getting better.

6. Take a break from a story or piece. When I come to a standstill with something I’m working on, I put it away for a while & forget about it. Whenever I decide to return, the more recently revised sections are brand new to me, as a result, so is the entire piece.

7. Once you’ve decided you’re dedicating your life to writing, figure out what you are writing for. If it’s money. Retire immediately.

8. Get a day job. There’s nothing romantic about starving.

9. Join a writing community. Link up with other writer’s you admire & start exchanging work. It’s a great way to stay motivated.

10. Pray hard & often.

What would you suggest?

Original Link http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/feb/20/ten-rules-for-writing-fiction-part-one

Gasping for Sound

There are times when I read short fiction so profound, I feel ashamed after finishing it. Embarrassed I will have to read a second & third time in order to get the gist. It is a shame I welcome because my feelings of inadequacy mean I have stumbled over & through something remarkable.

I tripped over Frank Chin in the hallway of my undergraduate school’s English department. Books abandoned at the end of the school year were stacked in boxes lining the corridors. Picking my way through each bin, Chin’s words were buried alive within one of these gravesites.

The first read of “The Chinaman Pacific & Frisco R.R. Co.” told me Chin was a miraculous writer. The second gave me enough breathing room to inhale his intense & sometimes intricate prose while I found the correlations between time, the narrator’s struggles to assimilate, & his prodigal return home during the third run.

I capped my exhausted highlighter & wondered how a person can fit so many complex topics within nine pages. And then I asked myself an even more important question – why hadn’t I heard of this writer before?

Just a few of many quotes worth repeating covering subjects deserving entire novels:

Native Tongue – “She brought me to the kitchen… Here, private to say in Chinese… As if my mother would say all important things of the soul & blood to her son, me, only in Chinese from now on.”

Cultural Traits – “The secret of Chinatown rice. The hands come down towards the food. The food crawls with culture… I’d always be known by what I ate… we come from a hungry tradition.”

Assimilation – “We learned to talk like everybody in America. Learn to need to be afraid to stay alive, keep moving. We learned to run, to be cheerful losers, to take a sudden pie in the face, talk American with a lot of giggles.”

Other Works:
“The Chintatown Kid” – A short story
Gunga Din Highway – A novel

“The Chinaman Pacific & Frisco R.R. Co.” and other short stories written by Frank Chin can be found in Asian American Voices

Candice Mays

The Black Prince on BART

This morning while waiting for my train to arrive, I noticed a man in his mid twenties wearing a velvet blazer & sneakers holding a novel. Sliding further along the bench, close enough to read the cover, I saw he was reading The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch.

CM: Is that book any good?

Stranger: Yeah, it’s thick, but it’s a good read.

CM: I read Under the Net & didn’t like it too much.

Stranger: I read another one of her novels too &;;; I didn’t like it. But I figured I’d give this one a chance because maybe I was having a bad day or something when I read the other one.

About the Book –

Author: Iris Murdoch
Title: The Black Prince
Published: 1973
Awards: James Tait Black Memorial Prize

Minding the Gaps

If you go into a John D’Agata reading or open his book with skepticism. You will leave. A believer.

He begins with the end. Reading where the earth will be 10,000 years from now. Technical talk about polarizing planets & theoretical speech about how humans will eventually be their computers’ pets. John D’Agata doesn’t start off in the beginning like most writers. Then again – he isn’t like most writers.

Although D’Agata makes it clear this book contains no white space between subjects or paragraphs, he manages to make the leap anyways between seemingly unrelated ideas. The idea for About a Mountain, his latest book, began as faint curiosity about Yucca Mountain. A heaping mound of dirt in southwest Nevada. The Expert Judgment Panel’s designated storage unit for all of the United States nuclear waste. Yucca will withstand 10,000 years while it takes 10,000 years for the waste to magically decompose back into the earth. I stand with D’Agata atop this mountain & follow his words, his sight line, towards the stratosphere hotel where he believes he has spoken to the boy who plummets from its tower.

I am sitting in Levi’s mother’s living room, only after hearing about saints and volcanic eruptions and ultimately, the corruption of the universe. Whether it was because he was bored in Vegas or tired of his own mother. He does not explain. But for some reason, D’Agata volunteers for a suicide hotline in the nation’s suicide capitol. His first night on duty. He speaks to a teenage boy who abruptly hangs up. That same night. The first night. A teenage boy jumps from the top of the Stratosphere. John D’Agata believes Levi, the boy who jumped, is his teen. The one he tried to talk out of death. At the end of this visit to Levi’s home D’Agata’s informs me this is not his boy. And yet Yucca, the hotline, & Levi are somehow all connected.

The end helps me understand the beginning. John D’Agata gives me a step up to his leaps. Gaps between Levi’s suicide and the mountain. The human ability to disregard planet & life. I stare from mountain to building wondering if I can leap far enough. However, with D’Agata, I often & gladly fall. Into his prose, his imagery, his characters. Once he looks up from his work, I’ve hit concrete. But I have fallen, nonetheless, into About a Mountain.

Candice Mays