It's All About Causality

There's a schedule change coming my way at the end of this month, and it's shaking up the shape of my world. I'll have evenings free, which translates to a need of things to do in the evening. I've literally never had a job that's left me with free time before 7PM. This felt like a problem until I looked at our February author events, and was reminded how awesome, varied, and (often) free our events are.

Since I like to assume that my tastes are universal, or maybe just need to make myself accessible to stalkers, I'm going to tell you about the events I'm most jazzed about. And mind you, this is the jazziest I've felt about events. While there is a steady stream of awesomeness coming down the pipeline, sometimes we have a perfect storm situation. Interests dovetail, authors rock the house with Appalachian buffets, and people admit interesting or awkward things (depending on your perspective) during their face time with the author(s). This February is just such a month.

Going in the order of release dates, which actually matches up with their chronological order, we have an event with Jamie Ford at the Bellevue Regional Library on February 3rd. The event with be an installment of the library's Meet the Author series, where he will read a passage from Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, his debut novel, in addition to discussing the work that went into it. For anyone who has already read the book, which, if sales are a fair indicator, would be a lot of you, I don't need to explain why this event is well worth the potential trek over to the Eastside. For the rest of you, Jamie Ford is one of the nicest people you could hope to meet. He is a soft-spoken, down to Earth, and insightful individual that everyone should go see at a reading or literary event of some kind at least once.


The following week, we have Jane McGonigal showing up at our U-District store to discuss Reality is Broken. My love of video games is well-noted, and as you can read in my little questionnaire profile thingy, I love video games as a delivery mechanism for stories. However, another interest is in the way video games alter our thinking. While there is quite a bit that's been written about video games as an industry, this is the first book I've come across to really touch on what I'd call big picture issues in the fields of psychology or neuroscience. It's interesting to think about the way playing video games can shape our consciousness and the way we interpret and respond to our reality. In her book, you'll find scientific evidence supporting the notion that games are good for us. If you'd like to know more about how games can make us happier, more creative, and more resilient, this isn't one to miss.



Last, but certainly not least, we have an in-store event on February 17th with local author Jonathan Evison! I'm very unabashed about my fanboy-ism here, so I don't mind telling you that I totally hero-worship Evison. Which isn't to say that I've built a small altar with pictures, offerings, or burning candles. Instead, it means he's an acquaintance that I've come to admire and respect to the point of thinking he's one of the best people ever. And that's a thought substantiated by my analytical mind. You're unlikely to meet anyone more encouraging, genuine, or charismatic than him.

All of that aside, West of Here is an absolutely outstanding addition to his body of work. In this novel he shows what a truly amazing talent he is by adopting a style that will come as a shock to those who loved/read All About Lulu. It starts off with prose that feels much more in line with the early pioneers of the novel, with a story of life in an untamed land that would make Jack London jealous. Mind you, I don't say that lightly.


Part of me wants to keep this ball rolling, but there's probably enough here for you to consider. However, a short list of the events of March looks like another perfect storm month is en route. Among others, we've got T.C. Boyle (!!!), Adam Corolla, Michael Showalter, Suze Orman (my mom will be front and center), and Michio Kaku.

--Griffin

Something Norwegian This Way Comes!

I feel like I often start posts with something along the lines of "have you heard about this?" This time, I'm just going to say that I love graphic novelist Jason, and local publisher Fantagraphics (for doing the Lord's work and publishing his books here in the States).

While perusing the staff recommendations of a bookstore some years ago, my friend K. and I came across something that looked promising recommended by someone we'd come to trust implicitly. That something promising was Low Moon, graphic short stories written and illustrated by Jason (it's a pen name, by the by).


What immediately struck me (dare I say, both of us) was the simple, clean lines of his work. Every single line not only had a reason to be there, but it felt absolutely essential. While he occasionally makes use of color, he traditionally uses a pallet of simply black and white. His style is really, in every way, something of a shock to the system for me. I'm used to highly detailed works where artists are flexing a bit, really trying to show you what they're capable of. With his minimalist style, Jason impresses in a more understated way, but in a way that sticks with you. His anthropomorphic creations express so much with so little. Even in their failure to emote, they pull feeling(s) from you, the audience.

Appropriately, his art style isn't the only thing about Jason that makes him so distinct. His stories and the way that he chooses to tell them manage to somehow surpass the inherent beauty of his illustrations, which, in case you're skimming, is no small feat. With titles like I Killed Adolf Hitler and Werewolves of Montpellier, the former of which includes a spoiler in the title while the lattermost involves something of a werewolf battle royale in France, you can tell he's going in some fantastic directions. Even so, he manages to build worlds with rules and logic that you just understand. Aliens, Elvis impersonators, cavemen, zombies, pterodactyls, and pop culture references all fit perfectly into Jason's worlds. While at a glance the art could be seen as simple, the stories are anything but. You'll find highly nuanced short stories, collections of silly comic strips, and ultimately highly rewarding literary experiences awaiting you in his oeuvre.

As an aside, it should be noted that Jason will 'learn ya' things you wouldn't expect to learn. For example, did you know Dolly Parton originally wrote "I will always love you," a song that has been attached to Whitney Houston since The Bodyguard? This is something I gleaned from Why Are You Doing This? If you're a fan of this brand of random knowledge gain, I'd also recommend checking out the author's blog (with a name like Cats Without Dogs, how could it be bad?).

It should also be noted that much of Jason's work is brilliantly wordless. I can't stress how much I love, admire, and respect illustrators talented enough to pull off such an undertaking. As a fun little project, you should totally write a story, then convert it into a series of illustrations. While you do that, I'll be stroking this computer monitor, which is canvassed with pages from Jason's forthcoming short story anthology, Athos in America.


Oh! And to anyone who thinks they're too literary for an artist such as Jason: climb down from that horse! It's just so high. You might like The Left Bank Gang, as it features Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Pound, and Joyce as graphic novelists. They also pull off a serious robbery. Some of them die. Gertrude Stein's there, too.

--Griffin

Black and White Make Gray

As readers, we all have gaping holes in what we feel we ought to have read by now. It's this constant feeling that we're behind that, for me at least, causes us to read when we'd rather sleep, eat, socialize, or otherwise relax in some mindless way. Perhaps instead of playing a video game. We all have different routines.
That said, we all have these gaps. I'm saying it's universal, and by reading on you're agreeing with me.
You know what this is building toward, right? My own literary shortcomings.
As I've said before, I'm not particularly strong or current when it comes to books of a series. This would include any of the most beloved series of the past century, but seems to resonate with people in a different way when I say that I've never read the Harry Potter series.



Before you ask how I work at a bookstore, how I'm alive, or any of the like questions, allow me to explain. When the first book came out, I had already jumped the region between Young Adult and Literary Fiction, and I was reading the likes of Twain, Swift, and Hawthorne. In my own mind, I had left that realm and had no reason to look back. Fantasy has never been of particular interest to me, either. Sci-Fi, sure. Technology and aliens receive a reasonable intellectual investment because I grew up in a Star Wars household. Children training to be wizards and witches didn't really appeal to me as a child, or as an aging child (what others might call an adult).
It didn't help that I was in high school when the first two movies came out, and being a white dude with a fair complexion, scruffy brown hair, and slightly rounded glasses earned me the comments along the lines of "oh mah gaw, you look like Harry Potter!" Then 'Griffindor' stuck as a nickname, and all signs pointed to avoidance with a side of disinterest.

Around the time of the sixth book was released, I remember many friends giving the series a push and telling me I had to read it. Fresh off of not seeing the third Lord of the Rings movie on principle (no title could warrant that amount of Oscars, a stance that I maintain), I felt "what could it hurt to miss out on this?" Working at a bookstore for the past four years, I'm sure you can imagine this series has been recommended to me more than once. More than a few dozen times is probably accurate. I did work the midnight launch of The Deathly Hallows, after all. And yet I felt completely comfortable with my ignorance.
Someone very close to me, however, had planted an interest in the movies deep down in my heart. They were fun and light. Nothing revolutionary, but a better way to spend my time than with the latest Michael Bay flick (eat it, Bay!). Perhaps surprisingly, perhaps not, it wasn't until the sixth film that I really started to feel like there was more going on in this world than the films were conveying. This thought hadn't previously occurred to me. In my head, they were always "those kids books." How complex could they be, right? I've heard about books/series like the Hunger Games trilogy, Going Bovine, His Dark Materials, the Chaos Walking series, and etc. so I've had some idea of how mature YA lit. is getting. Harry Potter had just always seemed on the light, fluffy side of things to me. Ohh, what a fool I was...
As you might imagine, I'm officially reading these books now, and beyond the sheer enjoyment of the prose itself, I'm enjoying the conversations these books start. I recently had the misfortune of spending some time in the hospital, and had two conversations that went a long way in both distracting and comforting me. Talking to the nurse at the registration desk about the series after she called me 'Griffindor' was a departure from my high school response of "yeah *forced smile* likeI'veneverheardthatbefore *mumble mumble mumble*." Then, when the anesthesiologist saw that I had one of the books in my hand, the conversation stopped being all business, and instead he wanted to tell me about his strict ritual of seeing the films in theaters with his best friend, and the pact they made to do so. He also gave me some encouragement and advice in regards to the the fifth book, The Order of the Phoenix. He said that I "just need to get through it, because it's about to get so good." It has also led to conversations with co-workers that have been a ball. I'm not sure I've ever discussed any book or series to this extent, and never can I remember it being this much fun.



Basically, I feel like I'm on the inside of something where it's worth being on the inside. The diehards are much more fun than those taking a principled stand against the series. So if you think it's something you may not hate, give it a try. In fact, even if it's something you think might not be up your alley, you should still give it a try. I'm proof of the "what do we know?" factor. Here I thought I was too adult or too high-brow for this series, ultimately above it somehow, and now I can't wait to go to the Harry Potter: The Exhibition over at the Pacific Science Center and my eventual pilgrimage to the Harry Potter theme park in Universal Studios.
In the meantime, I think I'm just going to walk down to Kids Books and let Anna punch me in the liver.

Griffin

Venn Diagrams

I like Venn diagrams. I like the idea that you can take two different things, say, likes and dislikes, create circles for them to inhabit, and then find areas where they overlap and merge together cohesively. My favorite to date is a Venn diagram featuring Uncle Jesse from Full House and Jesus.

The overlapping points were "the hair" and "have mercy."

When two things that I love come together, I'm a pretty happy guy. Well, so long as the result doesn't suck, that is. In which case, I look/feel like this:


However, fortunately for me, I've had great experiences with the area between video games and literature, and that's what I'm here to tell you about.

Since first reading an uncorrected proof of Tom Bissell's Extra Lives: Why Video Games Matter, I've wanted to post something about it. Weighing my options, I decided that going on and on about my experience reading the book, my own experiences with the games he discusses, or which games I would love to hear him write about next wouldn't be a good idea. Fun for me, sure, but it would essentially be something just for me, which kind of defeats the purpose of making that public. No reason to expose you to any of that. But now, under this umbrella, Tom Bissell's work will lead the charge.

If you're at all interested in video games as a medium, you really ought to give Extra Lives a try. It's beautifully written, and provides analysis as well as insights into the gaming industry. While perhaps a smidge on the academic side, this doesn't detract from the writing. Instead, it seems to lend itself to a new kind of video game journalism. Part personal essay, part high-brow critique, and part exploration of where things fit in the grand scheme of things.

If you read this and like it, there isn't another book quite like it, but I would recommend checking out Kill Screen Magazine. It's stuffed with similar work. Or at least work approached in a similar fashion.

Next, we have Smartbomb: The Quest for Art, Entertainment, and Big Bucks in the Videogame Revolution. Sadly, I'm not yet finished with this book, but it's proven itself to be pretty interesting. Authored by a couple of journalists, Heather Chaplin and Aaron Ruby, this work has a different approach than that of Bissell's. While it's clear Ruby has some experience with video games, it seems more like an outsiders' guide to gaming. These are not enthusiasts who decided to share their hobby with those not in the know, these are journalists that saw an untapped field of exploration, and jumped on it. This isn't a bad thing. You just need to expect to read sentences like "The Electronic Entertainment Expo, or E3 as gamers call it..." and accept that fact that we, the gaming population, are something akin to subjects under a microscope within these pages.

Again, there's nothing wrong with that. It's just a touch alienating at times.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, both books profile Cliff Bleszinski (CliffyB!) but the portraits they paint are in stark contrast to one another. In one, he is a dainty man wearing an ill-fitting pimp suit, while the other has him on stage wearing a blazer-hoodie combo and brandishing a somewhat functional Lancer Assault Rifle. What a difference a successful, mainstream game franchise makes!



By the time I'm done with Smartbomb, I'm hoping to be prepared to delve into Games of Empire: Global Capitalism and Video Games. It's a critical studies title, and it will likely include a lot of densely packed language that I won't understand. But that's alright. From my experience, the bits that you can glean from such titles manage to justify the effort expended.

If instead the title leaves me feeling stupid, I'll find comfort in the new Street Fighter World Warrior Encyclopedia put out by Udon Entertainment. There are always ways to find solace within beautiful, comprehensive art books.

When done well, the combination of video games and literature are even better than a corndog dipped in mashed potatoes! So I recommend you stop reading this and enjoy these bountiful offerings, post haste!

Comfort Reading

Recently I've had a few disasters with books or authors it turns out just aren't "my jam." And by that, I mean I've made use of the Nancy Pearl rule (where you subtract your age from 100 to determine how many pages you must read before you can give up) twice and had to just give up sans rule on a collection of stories where not-a-one was of interest. Nothing was "bad" or "poorly written." Just not my flavor of fiction.

At any rate, this left me in kind of a funk. I picked up and put down a few books from my "to read" stack(s) before finally coming across the one I would start. Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s Slapstick, or Lonesome No More! was, for me, the one that broke me out of this funk and fear. I picked it up, and upon reading the first paragraph of his little introduction, I was back in it. I was back in the beautiful words, sentences, paragraphs, and ultimately stories that Vonnegut was so capable of constructing.



As an aside, something I love about Vonnegut was the fact that he gave himself a report card for all of his works. If you haven't read this obituary or Palm Sunday, you may not know this, but it's true. Slapstick was one of only two works that received a D, and that's just an odd detail sticking in the back of my mind. Thus far, I'm enjoying it. I suppose Vonnegut's D work, in my processing core, still surpasses many well-reviewed efforts by others.

Getting back on track... Basically, I realized that Kurt Vonnegut Jr. will always be an author that I'll be fully capable of reading and there will always be something there for me to enjoy. Up to this point, and I'm through the bulk of his catalog, I've never once felt like I was just slogging my way through. This makes him my ultimate comfort read. His work is the safety net that will always keep me from falling into the abyss.

To those of you out here in the blogosphere: who do you find you will always be able to read? Who reminds you how truly wonderful reading can be when you're feeling like a rudderless boat on the high seas?



R.I.P. you kind, common decency-infused man.

--Griffin

Getting to Know You: Matthew Simmons

Local author Matthew Simmons was kind enough to agree to be bombarded with a variety of questions. Here is a concise version of the words that went flying back and forth.

Who are you, and what do you do? Why should I be asking you questions?
I’m Matthew. I work at the bookstore. I write copy for ads, signs, and newsletters.
You say you’re Matthew and you work at a bookstore, but isn’t it also true you’re a writer of fiction? Who is Matthew Simmons: local author?
Umm. I suppose I am a writer of fiction, too. Beyond that, who knows.
Zombie virus attacks the planet. Not only are the recently dead infected, but the classically dead as well. Both Ovid and Horace are in your apartment. Who do you take down first?
Horace. It would be hard to convince myself to take out the author of Metamorphoses.
Do you go to the zoo often? I think you live near there.
Not as often now that the Nocturnal House is gone. One of the first short stories I ever finished involved that place. I think I managed to spot all the animals—even the rabbit-y thing. (Can’t remember what it was called.)
I was very sad to hear of the passing of the Pallas’s Cat. I used to go to the zoo weekly and every time I would walk by the Pallas’s Cat enclosure, the animal would be hiding or asleep. One rainy Sunday, though, I walked by, leaned on the railing and up popped its head. And then it walked out into the open, stared in my direction for a couple of minutes, and left.
How long have you had your cat, Emmett?
Seven or eight years? He’s from a kill shelter in Everett. Got there in time. Of all the cats in the shelter, he was the least interested in my arrival. I thought, well this cat isn’t into me at all. I think I'll take him home.
Scientists and politicians are asking James Cameron for advice, so now it’s your turn: how would you plug the oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico?
There’s another writer named Matthew Simmons who is an oil industry guy. Apparently if you ask him, he’ll tell you to nuke the well closed.
Me, no clue.

Who is your favorite superhero and why?
Matter-Eater Lad. Because after his career as a superhero, he became a public servant, and served the planet Bismoll in some sort of planetary senate.
What was your experience like at Warren Wilson? A Jello Horse seems to be inspired, at least partially, by your time spent there. But which instructor would you say, generally speaking, influenced or inspired you the most?
My favorite advisor at Warren Wilson was Mike McNally. On his book covers, he goes by T.M. McNally. Fantastic writer, fantastic teacher.
I liked Warren Wilson. I have quipped that when I wrote A Jello Horse, I was doing all the things I was told not to do, but I’ve mostly been kidding about that. It’s not so much what I was told “can’t work in fiction,” as it was simply I was warned that there are significant tonal or structural effects of using, say, present tense or second person. Choices have consequences. And a writer needs to compensate for what is lost when a constraint is placed on a piece of writing.
What music, movies, or non-literary arts have influenced your writing the most?
Some of my earliest attempts at creating fiction were when I was in college and making music with my friends. I spent time creating an elaborate fake history for a “band” I started. I stole this idea from Negativland.
When you feel kind of lost in your work, what do you do? How do you find your way again?
Start something else, usually. Which is, I’ve come to realize, a terrible idea.
I understand you and Ryan Boudinot go way back. Where does the story of your friendship begin?
Ryan and I did a reading together a number of years ago. It was me, Ryan, and David Drury (a writer and musician—check out his band Tennis Pro). We were asked to do a Monkeybicycle reading, they,
because both had been in the very first Best Nonrequired Reading, me I think because they were desperate. My buddy Shya Scanlon set the reading up. Ryan and David were pretty amazing. I was embarrassed by my material and my performance (it was, I think, the second time I had read something I wrote in front of a crowd), and I left quickly without talking to anyone.
Ryan asked Shya how to contact me, and he and David were kind enough to include me in a three-person writer’s group. It was the first time I had been in such a thing. During that time, Ryan explained the MFA system to me and encouraged me to consider looking into low residency programs.
Ryan’s early encouragement—and continuing encouragement—has meant the world to me.
What books would you suggest someone read to be reminded of the transformative power of fiction? Or maybe just five books you view as essential? Books that you would feel naked without.
I can read the story “Strays” by Mark Richard over and over without ever getting tired of it. It’s in a really good collection called The Ice at the Bottom of the World. Same goes for “The Ceiling” by Kevin Brockmeier.
It took me years to finally get up the nerve to read Moby-Dick. It bothers me that no one ever even suggested to me that that book can be very funny.
The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien? 60 Stories by Donald Barthelme? David Foster Wallace’s nonfiction or “The Suffering Channel”?
Here’s a book I love: You’re An Animal Viskovitz by Alessandro Boffa. Modern-day Ovid.
And Meet Me in the Moon Room by Ray Vukcevich. I love that book so very much.
***
Matthew Simmons is the author of the novella A Jello Horse, contributor to The Pacific Northwest Reader and Best of the Web 2010, regular contributor over at HTMLGiant, author of two forthcoming short story collections, and Seattle’s reigning Literary Deathmatch Champion (as well as The Man Who Couldn’t Blog).

Interviewed by Griffin

Meet the Bloggers

We are back again with our Meet the Bloggers series. Today I want to introduce you to Griffin Taylor.

Griffin is a jack of all trades in the bookstore world. He's worked at our Bellevue branch, in our events department and he currently is the master of shelving and information for most of our general non-fiction books. A proud English major, avid video gamer and enthusiast for Japanese culture, Griffin is super smart and funny. I'd recommend jumping at a chance to pick his brain.

What are 3 books that will always be on your bookshelf and why?

The Great Gatsby, because I was an English major, Breakfast of Champions, because it was my first taste of Vonnegut, and A Jello Horse, because it's an important reminder to chase after that dream.

What book blogs or websites do you frequently check in on?

Since I'm kind of a video game nerd, I'm frequently perusing IGN and Kotaku, sometimes Destructoid to keep up to date. In terms of more literary stuff, I used to check HTMLGiant rather obsessively (like, every 20 minutes, maybe), as well as the Stranger's book column.

Every reader has their favorite spot, where do you read and what do you need to have around you when you read?

You know, I'm not much of a ritualized reader. This is something that surprises me about myself, but it's true. Being a commuter of the bus riding variety, I find that I get a lot of my reading done in transit on one of those beasts. My personal favorite is the 540 to the U-District. Especially in the morning. It's usually pretty quiet, and quite empty if you ride at the right time.

If you could play one video game with one literary fiction author, who would it be and what game?

This is a difficult question for me, and I think you knew that it would be when you came up with it. I'm kind of split, and so I'll just share both answers. Tom Bissell is an awesome author, though I am only familiar with his personal essays about video games. Needless to say, as a fellow gamer, he's a prime candidate. As far as games go, I'm thinking something with implications and underlying themes that I wouldn't necessarily be aware of. I think I'd want to hear his take on Ico. So, with that said, the other scenario would involve Joshua Ferris. I know, I know, the guy's just blowin' up now that he's on the Top 20 Under 40 list The New Yorker put out, but he's one of my favorite literary figures. Why? The guy is an amazing speaker in addition to an amazing writer. The speaking part really blew me away at the author event we had with him last year. I'd want to play Red Dead Redemption with him. I wonder what he'd have to say about life and morality in the old west. Insightful and hilarious, this guy can do it all. Truly the sun and the moon existing as one!

What is your favorite section to shelve? 

My favorite section for shelving is history. Any kind of history. I think part of it is because I like all of the numbers (639, 678, 636.1), but it's also just a particularly interesting area in terms of what you can glean from covers. Such as the book Young Stalin. What did I learn from the cover? Young Stalin rocked the bohemian look, and seemed like kind of a pretty boy. I didn't see that comin'. 

You can see all of Griffin's posts here.

"Translation as Detour"

Being that Japanese Literature is one of my major predilections, I was thrilled to receive an invitation to the May 10th lecture given by Harvard University Professor of Japanese Literature Emeritus, and former Dawg (Husky), Jay Rubin.



If you read Haruki Murakami, you have likely read some of his translation work. He is essentially Haruki Murakami's go-to translator. If he's busy with another project, the work will go to someone else, but he's the first one to receive an offer. The English editions of Norwegian Wood, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, and Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman were all translated, masterfully, by him.

He also translates the works of Modernist classics such as Natsume Soseki and Ryunosuke Akutagawa. Now, I don't want to deviate too much with fanboy-ish endorsements, but I have things to say. First, if you're looking for beautiful prose and stories with feeling, look no further than the work of Natsume Soseki. Second, if you're a fan of short stories, you simply must give Ryunosuke Akutagawa a whirl. Have you seen the Akira Kurosawa film Rashomon? It's based on one of Akutagawa's stories (it's adapted from his adaptation of an ancient Japanese tale), and I would highly recommend checking out the collection of the same name (Rashomon: And Seventeen Other Stories).



Back on track with Professor Rubin, his lecture was titled "Translation as Detour: from Genji to 1Q84," and it was a great opportunity to nerd out. Professor Rubin focused much of his lecture on different translations of The Tale of Genji (which is a tome as historically important as it is interesting) and his own work translating the works of Murakami.

If I were to recount to you exactly what was said, it would be the superiority of the Royall Tyler translation of The Tale of Genji, and the interesting difficulties inherent in translating from Japanese to English.


Professor Rubin shared one anecdote that involved his current project translating the first two volumes of 1Q84 for Haruki Murakami. He assured us that this isn't a spoiler, but some of the characters see two moons in the sky. These folks are in the minority, as everyone else sees a single moon. But in Japanese, there is no distinction between plural and singular nouns. So the struggle, for him, has become sorting out how many moons each character sees. It occurs to me that only a certain kind of person will think that's funny, or even remotely interesting, but I'm absolutely of that variety.

At any rate, it was a wonderful lecture, and Professor Rubin effortlessly established himself as both intelligent and funny. Meanwhile, those of us in attendance ate it up, and gleaned what we could about his future projects.

So, for those of you interested in the process of translation, exploring the worlds of Japanese language or literature, I would recommend perusing his catalog. I'm currently thumbing through Making Sense of Japanese: What the Textbooks Don't Tell You, and hoping it manages to live up to its bold claim.

-Griffin

Just The Facts, Ma'am

To get this ball rolling, I'm going to have to provide you with information that will seem trivial at first, but I promise has some kind of relevance.

I've worn many hats around this bookstore of ours. Before making my triumphant return to the sales floor as a bookseller, I worked in our events department. This might seem like something I'm just throwing out there, as I don't intend to elaborate much more than that, but this means that I rubbed elbows with an unsung hero who is, in one case, becoming all the more unsung as time goes on.

On June 16th, 2009, we hosted an event for local author, and all around great guy, Matthew Simmons. We were there, at the College Inn Pub, for his novella (really a novelette, as you will often hear me say) A Jello Horse. Book Editor for The Stranger, and all around nice guy, Paul Constant was also in attendance.



At the time of the event, neither myself nor Mr. Constant had any kind of firsthand knowledge of the book itself. Matthew had intimated that there were jackalopes, but that was literally the full extent of how informed I was. Danielle, my equally bespectacled counterpart in events, had already read the book and shared a theory which was then transmuted into advice. She said something to the effect that the book was best experienced in one read. With a total of 67 pages, this is an entirely achievable goal, and something that I'm not alone in saying I totally appropriated from her.

These words undoubtedly influenced Paul to say what he said (re: how it should be read), and I can quite honestly say that they alone led me to say what I said in my staff recommendation for the book (something to the effect of "read it in one sitting. If not for yourself, for your children").

The reason why I'm writing about this now is that A Jello Horse has made it into its fourth printing from Publishing Genius Press, which has led to a new jacket design for the book.



See that in the bottom corner? Danielle's words have reached, I think, the height of what a reader's words can reach in regards to a work of literature. That is, a variant is featured on the cover of the work itself. So, to Danielle I say: thank you for sharing your words with us. It enhanced my experience with the book, and has done/will do the same for plenty of others.

Since I still have you here, I feel I should suggest that you take a look at the work of Matthew Simmons. He's an impressive talent that is really on the rise, and for good reason. Along with being the author of A Jello Horse, he is The Man Who Couldn't Blog, the forthcoming author of too many things to count (a novel and two short story collections, I think), and teaches a class at the Richard Hugo House from time to time.

But don't take my word for it! Instead, look at this and see (a second opinion) for yourself.

-Griffin

PS: Thank you, Paul Constant, for allowing me to lean on your words for some kind of credibility.

On Instances of Authorial Lurking

The subject line may not accurately describe what it is I wish to talk about, but I'm led to believe what I'm about to discuss is something entirely universal in nature. I like to think that we all find ourselves in situations where one author in particular is lodged firmly in our craw, and for whatever reason circles and swirls in your general area. It is entirely possible that my slightly obsessive nature intensifies this occurrence, but allow me to give you a rundown of my week with David Foster Wallace.

Thursday: Rearranging fixtures for our event with Karl Marlantes, who was immensely kind, not to mention modest (which is particularly refreshing given the unanimous praise his debut novel Matterhorn has received), this was the cover located directly in front of (and underneath) me:



Friday: While shelving in our Mathematics section, I noticed a book that was slightly out of alphabetical order. It was Everything And More: A Compact History of Infinity by one David Foster Wallace.

Saturday: Nothing.

Sunday: As if to make up for the day off, Mr. Wallace struck twice during our short day here at the bookstore.

First, a discussion about the ins and outs of book collecting brought about a digression (the only one of its kind) to the current value of a first edition, first printing of Infinite Jest.

Then, just before closing, I helped a customer locate a book for her book club. She wasn't sure who the author was, but she knew "Curious Hair" was in the title. As in Girl With The. Upon arriving in the section, there was a brief discussion about DFW and the importance of experimental fiction. As a degree carrying English major, I walked away elated by this exchanging of ideas.

Monday: Mere moments ago, I was hailed by one of our lovely events associates. When I reached the top of the stairs where she was prepping a display for this evening's author event with Kim Severson, she held a copy of the book that started all of this: Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself: A Road Trip with David Foster Wallace by David Lipsky.

While I was sold on the idea of someone (anyone, really) taking some kind of road trip with a figure the likes of David Foster Wallace, I am pleased to report that the specifics should yield far tastier fruit for all of us to enjoy (the specifics being that this road trip took place during DFW's book tour for Infinite Jest)!

As it turns out, we received an uncorrected proof of the book today, and it had yet to be claimed. Since I seem to be incapable of keeping my likes and dislikes to myself, it was known to the aforementioned staffer that I'm something of a fan. So, due to the fact that I have thoughtful, sweet co-workers, I sit here with a new book in my hot little hands.

With all of this out in the blogosphere now, I'm curious. When was the last time you, my patient, possibly bored reader, have had an author embedded in your life in oddly tangible ways? Furthermore, who was it?

-Griffin

The Series

This is my inaugural post here, and I hope to establish myself as someone who has much content of interest to offer you. With that goal in mind, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?

The series.

I've been a bookseller for long enough to genuinely wish that I could take part in one of those monstrously popular series. The Harry Potter and Stieg Larsson books spring to mind right off the bat, but to be fair, I'd even settle for being on board for something like Twilight. Anything that inspires the kind of obsessive hunger pangs that one must endure while they await the next volume.

The point I'm awkwardly fumbling around here is this: I simply haven't had the opportunity to experience the love, frustration, and waiting associated with serial fiction. Or any kind of serialized writing, for that matter.

Until one fateful day (a handful of weeks ago) when a co-worker told me about a comic book written by the incredibly talented Bryan K. Vaughan called Y: The Last Man.

I have to acknowledge, this is by no means a new series. It started its 60 issue run in 2002 and concluded in 2008, so I definitely missed out on all of the award buzz and fanfare.

At any rate, I trusted the co-worker who recommended it, and I saw that we had volumes one through four. Within the week, I had torn through all of them, was placing orders for volumes five through eight (as we had nine and ten in stock), and was literally dreaming about the series. Dreaming! It's so good that it literally permeated my subconscious, and got me to put down a collection of short stories that I'd been enjoying. When you're craving pizza, sushi will not leave you feeling satisfied. Though this series transcends mere sustenance, my friends.

This narrative is simply amazing. Not once did I complete a volume with anything but an intense need to continue the tale and know what happens next. Oh, the twists, oh, the turns!

To give you a spoiler-free idea of what you're in for, the premise is that one day in 2002, all of the men in the world die except for, you guessed it, our protagonist (and his pet Capuchin)! As Hollywood has proven with Every Which Way But Loose and Bedtime for Bonzo, anyone with a monkey is pretty worthwhile (see: Clint Eastwood, Ronald Reagan). I feel like this is a good time to mention that this series shares no similarities, and thus cannot be described as cheesy (or anything negative, for that matter).

Since receiving this final pay-off, I've been exploring new avenues in the land of graphic novels and arty comics. Brian K. Vaughan's stint with Runaways was pretty amazing, as well as Bill Willingham's Fables, and Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead.

Now, to the best of my understanding, these are all relatively well-established titles and authors. I don't wish to present them as undiscovered gems simply because their collective awesomeness went under my radar until somewhat recently. I'm just hoping that maybe someone will stumble across these titles, sample the flavor, and find themselves delightfully hooked on at least one awesome series.

As for me, I'm off to continue my romp through the post-apocalyptic world of Rick Grimes and co. in The Walking Dead Compendium.


-Griffin