lady friends

The Hearing Trumpet by Leonora Carrington is a celebration of unstereotypical womanhood, the freedom of aging and the power of friendship. I reviewed it here. I loved it, loved the experience of sharing it, loved the avenues of research it led me down. I especially loved Carmella, the narrator's best friend, and her easy relationship. I never realized that, while the narrator was the author's projection of herself as an impossibly old woman, Carmella had a real-life counterpart as well: artist Remedios Varo.

The women were both artists. They were both muses to cranky Surrealists. They both ran from the war and ended up exiled in Mexico. They were both held against their will--Carrington in a mental institution, Varo by the French police. They both had spectacular, hard lives, and probably found some comfort in the partial reflection of that reality in one another.

I learned about Varo in the great essay, How To Be Old: Two Women, Their Husbands, Their Cats, Their Alchemy, by Carrie Frye over at The Awl.* The essay focuses on the biography of the two women, how they intersect and how their friendship appears in each's writing, mostly The Hearing Trumpet. I called Carrington's language in that book "precise [and] pulsing;" Frye calls it "a kind of glissading bumptious kangaroo splendor." That assessment endeared her to me, along with her assertion that the writing in The Hearing Trumpet seems to impart the desire to make people happy, instead of to impress them.

All of this is to say that I want to read more of Varo's writing and see more of her amazing art. You should read this essay and follow what it makes you want to do.

*(But why is the title of the page "A History of Cat-Loving Women?" That is the worst.)

meta mail

The USPS charges shipping on stamp purchases. Laughter and tears, folks. Laughter and tears.

Eye of Horus by Alabaster

Oh to be an ibis in the grass in Alabaster’s Egypto-trip through dysfunctional family dynamics! A primer of sorts on the god Horus’ origins and exploits, this comic follows the titular god as a child. He hangs with his companion cat, Bast, heals hurt birds, dodges his murderous uncle and learns the secrets of his lineage.

Look at that wheat!

Originally printed in two parts for the Portuguese magazine Lodaçal Comics, this version is a limited edition of 75. The lovely letterpress cover shows Alabaster’s usual attention to craft; I especially like the triumphant ibis on the reverse. The black and white, copier paper, interior mixes traditional comics panel structure with full-page tableaux that echo the frozen depictions of ancient Egyptian gods but somehow keep them fluid. It is in these panels that you can best see Alabaster’s commitment to the decorative detail.

 I was a bit surprised that she didn’t wring more bitter humor out of the terror and misery of young Horus, as the suffering of child-like characters is central to her Talamaroo stories. (See my review of those here.) We don’t get to know too much about the boy, except that he is a nice, sheltered kid with sweet bangs and big battles ahead of him. The meatiest character in here is the evil Seth—I could practically smell the stink coming off of him; but then fleshing out personalities is perhaps the trickiest part of retelling ancient tales. Despite the small deficit in personality-based tension, there is still plenty of blood, sweat and eyeliner-stained tears in this story to keep me hoping for a next chapter some time soon.

some good things

"Attached to the box was a label that said: "Do not open until war is over." Which war? The Civil War? The War of 1812? What he discovered was a box filled with disguised anti-Nazi tracts hidden in packets of tea and shampoo and concealed in miniature books both popular and scholarly."
I always forget about the NYPL's blogs and then there they are, pointing me to amazing object, books or trains of thought and inspiring great ideas.

New plants are patented each week. Who knew? Here are some color pictures of them.
Additionally, prison libraries are covered more than I expected in a few of the blogs.
Also, a bunch of pictures of Christopher Walken!

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I really enjoyed this essay on book reviews, the desire to hurt/ignore/erase any "girl who fucks" and this: "I don’t want to write about rape anymore. But here we are." Trigger Warning by Sarah McCarry

The Public Life of Bees by Jessica Campbell

“Bee people—let’s face it, they are crazy about bees!” Now, I admit to liking bee imagery, which is what drew me to the zine in the first place. But I don’t think I qualify as a “bee person.” I am, however, an Oily Comics person and The Public Life of Bees is a black and white, quarter-size zine from their sweet dollar menu.

The text reads like into a lawnmower went several dry scientific tomes on bees, a couple of early-internet apian fan sites and maybe a yellowing copy of Weekly World News and what shot out was pieced back together by a madwoman.

It’s a quick read made charming by the drawings of Campbell, a painter. I especially like the beekeepers’ (bee people?) masked exchanges: ‘Jerry, are you a zombie?” ‘Naw, bro, I swear I’m not!”

you send me comics

Any idea what book this image is from?

First of all, the blog over at the The Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum is an amazing resource for comics lovers, especially if your tastes skew vintage. My favorite feature is "Found in the Collection" because it indulges the fantasy that working in an archives is an exciting adventure of discovery--the same fantasy that led me to get my MLIS, but perhaps that is another story for another time.

I missed Found in the Collection: E. Simms Campbell Letters when it was first posted, so it is old in internet time. The E. Simms Campbell Letters are, of course, timeless, as all good letters are. The writer, Elmer Simms Campbell, was not only the creator of the Esquire magazine mascot, but a working, African American, NYC cartoonist from the 1930s to his death. The letters speak to the cartoonist lifestyle, one of all-nighters, deadlines, loneliness, but also some pretty epic partying, life in 1950s Switzerland and the habits of some prominent jazz musicians. Reading them in full would be pretty much the best thing. Researchers, take notice!

^^^^^

Loved the interview with Ellen Forney over at inkstuds. They cover working in memoir, coming out as mentally ill, deadlines, drugs and doctors. I want to read Marbles, which I didn't want before I listened.

I simply like listening to Forney. Her verve for life is infectious and that is something I desperately need to catch. Her previous interview with Robin made me feel the same way.

^^^^^

From LWA

A postcard interview is one of the best things I've heard about in a long while. I am doing a postal-related interview for work and if deadlines were not an issue, this would be an amazing treatment. If only, if only.

The best moment of the weekend came at the very end: Almost-nine-years-old A on the yellow couch, reading Melissa Mendes' yellow Freddy Stories and laughing while the oldsters around her tried to caught our breath. I was going to take her picture, but there is something to be said for not having to model one's enjoyment.

"florists on the edge"

Nothing here is the thing I want.

I've been reading some back issues of Cactus and Succulent Journal that I picked up for a friend and never gave her. Succulent enthusiasts have a lot of drive. I've not been reading the comics and books I stocked up on to get through this long winter. I got to use some of my newfound cactus knowledge in an article I am writing for my day job, so there's that.

I am working on a series of collages for a zine about my friend Sally. Will it be done in time for _______? Will it ever be done? This is what I think about when I think about grieving or projects. It will certainly include a page of flowers. She loved flowers and I love flowers and flowers, flowers, flowers. I thought of this treatment while considering why I was so drawn to the Cactus and Succulent Journal, so there's that.

I've been listening to a ton of genre story podcasts. They get me through days working at home or puttering nights. Maybe not on the page, but I like ghost manifestations, fairy machinations, hodgepodge time and place, and such right in my ear. When I do venture out of my lair I read HAV by Jan Morris, which fits into my desire for wispy realities, so there's that.

postcards: here and there

Help Vermont collagist and Post Office owner Jane Davies keep her little P.O. open by sending her a handmade postcard! I suppose that you could help by sending a letter to anyone in Rupert, VT, but on the off chance that you don't know any one of the 704 or so citizens, the Postcard Project works just fine. Check out the galleries of cards that she's already received here. If you don't at least click through to see the postage-stamp-size building, you have no heart.

If you have the misfortune of being in the Boston area, you could relieve some of that pain by visiting the MFA for The Postcard Age, and exhibit of selections from the Leonard A. Lauder Collection. The collector himself will be doing a talk on his collection on March 6th. While you're there, hit up the European Posters exhibit too.

Leonard Lauder also has a collection housed at the NYPL. The Detroit Publishing Company Postcards are available to view online and show mostly cityscapes, landmarks and natural beauty, but also things like this:

Image ID: 62237

To see them, click on the tiny "See all images" link on the upper part of the page.

These essays at The Rumpus on mental illness are necessary:
Sick by Amy Butcher
That's Life by Seth Fischer
Through the Cracks by Sue Sanders

And these interviews with people who make things are very different and very interesting:
The Rumpus Interview with Natalie Dee by Jory John
The Rumpus Book Club Discussion with George Saunders

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Sometimes you order Breaking & Entering by Joy Williams from the internet and end up with a Lemony Snickett book but nothing else is wrong right at the moment.

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The only thing that makes the cancellation of Saturday delivery by the USPS not entirely heartbreaking is that it will make Mondays somewhat more exciting.

Let's all make someone's week's beginning better by writing them a letter. (New slogan possibility? Send check to P.O. Box 170293, Times Plaza Station, Brooklyn, NY, 1217-9997)

My young pen pal is on the list for this week; who is on yours?

Best I Read: 2012

Somehow I managed to not write about any of the books that blew me away this year. I would suggest that you get your hands on a copy of each one.

Dora: A Headcase by Lidia Yuknavitch
"Only one thing to do. I puke."

Most people who know me know that my least favorite genre is coming-of-age. I was a teenager once--first times don't fascinate me. Stories about troubled girls are usually so hackneyed and embarrassing that no feeling but disgust rises to the top. So this book by Lidia Yuknavitch seems like the worst thing: a modern retelling of a Freud case study, told in first-person by a teenaged girl named Ida.

The reason that Dora works so well, or at all, is Yuknavitch's excellent grasp of voice.  Ida's voice, reclaimed from the big cigar himself, is reimagined as a present-day patios of swears, nicknames and certain hallways of pop culture. It took me a few chapters to trust Yuknavitch and let myself be transported back to a time when anything was possible and nothing seemed worth doing, but the clarity with which she shows Ida's conflict brought me around. There is a respect for the potential power, positive and negative, of teen energy that I rarely see, and the deep knowledge that what looks like rebellion can sometimes simply be self-saving.

In Zanesville by Jo Ann Beard
A story about the friendship of girls that not only didn't make me want to hurl, but was wise and sweet in a way that surprised me and filled me with, what was it? Joy.

The book opens with the crisis moment in what must be the must under-compensated babysitting job ever. The first paragraph sets the tone well: "We can't believe that the house is on fire. It's so embarrassing first of all, and so dangerous second of all. Also, we're supposed to be in charge here, so there's a sense of somebody not doing their job."

The glorious descriptions of the ordinary desires (like Nehru shirts and tweed culottes on layaway, a feeling of belonging, kittens) and annoyances (like disappointing drunk dads, teenage sisters and slippery babysitting charges) of the main character enhance the simple story in a very satisfying way. Plus, it was sneaky, funny and sweet.

Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones
Once a week or so I hit the kitchen at my office job, get some tea and look at the castoff books on the counter. Usually populated by ghostwritten memoirs and diet books, this pile has yielded a few great finds. The best? This book.

Normally I wouldn't pick up a book with a comfy blue cover and an anonymous lady in an ugly dress but the name tickled my memory. Back at my desk I googled Jones and a review on HTML Giant by Roxane Gay came up: "This is another one of those books I want to just drive down the street throwing at people because it feels so necessary." When the mighty Roxane Gay wants to fling something at you, you cup your hands, ready to catch it.

Silver Sparrow is about two girls, fathered by the same man, one secret, one "legitimate." I am not telling you anything you won't find out right away. The first line of this book is "My father, James Witherspoon, is a bigamist." Despite the fact that the secret that is central to the story being open to the reader from the get go, there was something brisk and thrilling about the plotting that made me fly through it. The story is told through the voices of each sister, and through them, and tales within tales, Jones makes achingly sharp observations about family, the legacy of sexual violence, sacrifice, anger and power. I also like the details of 80's Atlanta that come through in the girls' assessments of one another.

Zazen by Vanessa Veselka
When I think of this book my chest tightens and I remind myself to just breathe, just breathe and be glad that writers like Vanessa Veselka are getting published in my lifetime. It is that good.


Zazen is a punch-in-the-chest kind of book about radical politics, failure, mental illness and, eventually, hope. It conjures up visions of a near future with images from the present, recognizable to anyone who, let's say, ever lived in a communal house or when vegan or demonstrated outside a business, full of righteous anger. Or maybe just lived in a place like Portland or San Francisco after the shine of "alternative living" wore off. This book is for all the fallen true believers out there who still hold a tiny sliver of hope in their hearts, a sliver that never gets to glint in the light and causes more aching than they'd like to admit.

One of the more surprising things about the book was Veselka's use of the sibling relationship to fully develop the main character, Delia, and subtly provide back story without straining the first-person framework. Delia's feelings about her brother and sister are complex and true, and given weight that I rarely see and greatly appreciated.

Fantastic Women: 18 Tales of the Surreal and the Sublime from Tin House edited by Rob Spillman
I picked up this collection on an evening that I promised myself that I would not buy a book. That night, however, I really needed to be transported to another world, any other world. This book, a staff pick at The Spiral Bookcase, is filled with some of the best writers working today, including: Lydia Millet, Kelly Link, Lucy Corin and Samantha Hunt.

Relationships rub the wrong way, Drive-Through-House cookie recipes are tested, skin is shed and children feared in these stories. My favorites get at the strong crypto-currents of emotion behind everyday things like family, work and love. "Drive-Through House" by Julia Slavin is the first that comes to mind. A take on familial obligation, the story captures the dust and exhaust flavor of a dying roadside attraction and the cramped sadness of being afraid to leave a house that has no door.  "Snow White, Rose Red" by Lydia Millet, which I read first last year in Kate Berheimer's collection My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, is a juicy story told from the point of view of a "disappeared" man, a sort of house-breaking hobo, with a slightly sinister unreliability: "I met the girls and instantly liked the girls, Of course I liked the girls." "Americca" by Aimee Bender asks if memories are gifts and answers that growing up is a kind of loss no matter what.

The superb choice of stories in this collection inspired me to purchase two other Tin House collections and seek out the novels they've published. That says it all, I presume?

All of this "coping," all of this "getting by," all of this "day by day" has turned me towards writing poetry. One of my open secrets is that I wrote poetry for many years, most of it lost now. The way that scraps of thought could be fixed by a poem was very soothing to me. I am soothed again by that now. Well, perhaps soothed is the wrong word, marginally satisfied is probably better. I can pin down the small truths and then let them rest.

I keep starting essays about grief and end up with poems. Maybe it is the sudden lack of perspective I am suffering from, but a poem seems like an option now in a way that it hasn't in a long while. I don't know how I feel about this except that any writing is better than none.

<<<>>>

Does what you write, or how you write it, change when your circumstances change? How?

Goodbye, friend

Today I am heading down to Philadelphia to my great friend Sally's wake. I will be witnessing the sorrow of my two friends, Jenn and Greg, her children, as well as the many other people who loved her and relied on her.

My own sorrow is furtive and strange. I am in shock--I don't believe that she is gone, but I know that it is true. I fear that I won't be able to support my friends in their grief because of the power of my own. I am afraid that I will become furtive and strange, myself. I am afraid of life without her.

Sally had much to teach someone 40 years her junior about life, but one of the things that made her special is that she also was always ready to learn something about it, too. As you can see from the photo below, she was always up to help out with a project, especially if it meant trying something new. That is what I will keep with with as I try to create a lesson out out a tragedy.

Photo by Jennifer Shahade

Dr. Sally Solomon 

1940-2013

lounging with giacco

So, I felt like a sack of pain today so I hung with Giacco and worked & read.

Starting in on Y.T Yost's new food-themed anthology and George Saunder's new story collection Tenth of December, I am struck with how much I love short stories. Drop me in a world, make me believe it and I will be yours.

[Giacco was rescued by Sugar Mutts. Here is his page, check it out!]

more bad, good dog

One of the most distressing things about grief for me is its tenacity. It just comes and comes, never forgetting for more than a few moments. When you are a person with depression, this doggedness can turn great sadness into a feeling of sickness or even, in my case, a sense of being trapped in a nightmare. The depression augments the grief like diarrhea atop a shit sandwich. More bad.

I've been eating a shit sandwich for several months. But these days, unlike in the past, I have a persistent, inconvenient, desire to stick around on this planet. So the question became: How to keep on keeping, etc. AND smile every once and awhile?

I started looking at adoptable dogs on petfinder a few months ago to distract from my dad's tidal wave of a diagnosis. It was calming, and free and sane. Fast forward to B & I checking out an adoption event and then emailing a few choice petfinder folks. Only one rescuer responded, but the dog we were looking at got adopted. However, there was a new dog that she wanted to get out of the shelter ASAP. Enter Giacco (jee-ah-koh), foster dog extraordinaire:

Giacco is 50 lbs. of puppyish fun with some learning to do. He is getting adjusted to tryharderland and is always ready for some quiet reading time. We are not sure about the long-term feasibility of having a dog, but getting to know him has been a jolt of love and difference that my brain needed.
[Giacco was rescued by Sugar Mutts. Here is his page, check it out!]

Regional Relationships 3: Yock Yok by Feresteh Toosi & Neil Brideau

After too many days, I hit up my PO Box and found this package from Regional Relationships, a Chicago-based outfit that investigates the idea of "regional."

This third installment of the series is by artist Feresteh Toosi and cartoonist Neil Brideau. It includes a comic, dishtowel and audio interview on CD.

The project explores Yock, a noodle dish that goes by many names, including "old sober."  The comic takes the reader through the many legends about the tomatoey noodles through interviews, tall tales and even some true crime. The last line in the comic is "It's old food, and broke people eat it! Go eat some!" But there is no recipe. It is cute, thanks to Brideau's art style, but slight, and left me wanting more.

The dish towel was my favorite element. With its combination of utility and fantastic elements— it places the geographical area where yok exists in a mythical context—makes it an interesting and enduring item that will remind you of what you learned every time you use it. I especially like Brideau's sea monsters.

The presentation of the CD led me to I expect much more from the interview than a less-than-five-minute chat with a friend of the artists who makes a vegan yock and appears in the last two panels of the comic. It feels tacked on to the project and actually takes something away from the exploration.



I am not sure how this project fits in to the rest of the project but I'd like to find out. Subscriptions are pricey, but there is a budget option for $30/year.

Baby Geisha by Trinie Dalton

What better surprise from a trip to L.A. could there be than a Trinie Dalton reading at Family Bookstore. I already talked about that here, back when it actually happened. I recommended this book to Prickly Pete by saying that they were perfect stories for his trip to the city: short, full of vice and sweetness. Since he hasn't didn't return it until now, I'd like to believe that the rec went right.

Dalton's work crackles with desert heat with bursts of wildflower color. It is utterly surprising without cheating her characters of depth or realness. She captures what is sneaky and interesting about Southern California: bad-drug haze, almost petulant natural beauty, burnout wisdom and the fringes of society and sanity.  

"'Is that a mushroom cult?' people whispered as I fluffed up kale bundles." (Escape Mushroom Style)

Journeys and their place in personal reinvention, or perhaps, redemption, are a running theme in the collection. Whether it is to a sloth sanctuary in Costa Rica, hot for a Pulitzer (Pura Vida) or a three-dollar-a-night campsite in the Ozarks (Wet Look),these characters are trying to run towards their better selves and mostly failing.

Baby Geisha is about half stories and half monologue—The Sad Drag Monologues to be exact. I preferred the stories, especially The Perverted Hobo, Wet Look and Jackpot (II), because they are denser and more of a much-need, imagery-laden, punch to the brain, but enjoyed the rhythm of the monologues. From Small Time Spender, in reference to free enlightenment in the age of "austerity":

"The all-loving, all-embracing wise universe: the Jewel Tree Meditation is free... Enlightenment awaits us, in the form of Stevie Wonder. He's living with his hot wife in Detroit. Time to write a fan letter."

Boom Boom Boom. Loved it.

2012 reads

Fantastic Women: 18 Tales of the Surreal and the Sublime from Tin House edited by Rob Spillman

Blood Child and other stories by Octavia E. Butler

Nurse Nurse by Katie Skelly

The Opposite House by Helen Oyeyemi

Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi

Forecast by Shya Scanlon

Significant Objects edited by Joshua Glenn & Rob Walker

Red as Blood, or Tales from the Sisters Grimmer by Tanith Lee

Seven Gothic Tales by Isak Dinesen

Anna & Eva by Jennifer Daydreamer

Oliver by Jennifer Daydreamer

The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi

Someplace to be Flying by Charles de Lint

Chester 5000 by Jess Fink

Radio Iris by Anne-Marie Kinney

Torch by Cheryl Strayed

Firebirds Rising edited by Sharyn November

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Better With You Here by Gwendolyn Zepeda

How to Get Into the Twin Palms by Karolina Waclawiak

Dora: A Headcase by Lidia Yuknavitch

Three Messages and A Warning: Contemporary Mexican Short Stories of the Fantastic edited by Eduardo Jiménez Mayo and Chris N. Brown

There Once Lived a Woman Who Tried to Kill Her Neighbor's Baby by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya

Only Skin by Sean Ford

kus 11: Artventurous

My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me, edited by Kate Bernheimer

In Zanesville by Jo Ann Beard

Girl, Reading by Katie Ward

kus 10: Sea Stories

Are You My Mother by Alison Bechdel

Kiss & Tell by MariNaomi

Silver Sparrow by Tayari Jones

Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente

The Ask by Sam Lipsyte

The Accidental by Ali Smith

Baby Geisha by Trinie Dalton

kus 9

Embassytown by China Mieville

Tell It Slant by Beth Follett

Kraken by China Mieville

Wit's End by Karen Joy Fowler

Zazen by Vanessa Veselka

To Each His Own by Leonardo Sciascia

So many good things about bad things

It has been an amazing few months in essay. All of these transported me to a questioning place, guided me through an emotional minefield or somehow blew me a kiss. Please leave your recent favorite essays in the comments.

Nina Simone's Gun by Saeed Jones at LAMBDA Literary
"She went into the garage. When her husband, Andy, came home a few hours later, he found her sitting on the floor with a mess of tools spread out in front of her. Nina Simone was trying to build a hand-made gun."

What Music? by Brian Allen Carr at The Rumpus
"He had been out drinking with strangers—at least, that’s what the detective told us. The last words we know he said were, “Good night, new friends."

New Romance: A Practicum for the Living by Nadine Friedman at The Hairpin
"And because subconsciously I didn't want to love anyone, ever, I asked my new boyfriend to come, presenting it somewhat like a day trip to an upstate winery."

Go, Go, Go, Go, Go: Theo Ellsworth's The Understanding Monster by Martyn Pedler at Bookslut. "Time is the only thing that'll help? Then why are clocks ticking and suns setting and seasons changing with an almost sarcastic speed and everything feels worse and worse?"

The Uneasy Relationship Between Mental Illness and Comedy by Jaime Lutz at Splitsider
"Plenty of vulnerable people are drawn to, say, Scientology; why wouldn’t some of them instead be drawn to the equally expensive cult that is the Upright Citizens Brigade?"

31 DRAWINGS THAT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING IN LOVE AND NOT BEING IN LOVE by Eleanor Davis

It is no secret that I love Eleanor Davis. When I discovered that she'd be making a mini of her pieces for the most recent Giant Robot Post-It show I felt the gimme-gimmes overtake me.

I rarely allow myself to submit to such clammy passions, but it seemed a win-win situation. Sure the black of the stapled spine is already creasing away and there are a few unexpected blank pages, but considering that a pencil drawing of baby by Davis was included--like a best and most unexpected autograph--this $5 treat is all-ok with me.

Davis' usual botanical flourishes are a lush and almost furtive presence in these small, black and white drawings. It is almost as if the branches, leaves, flowers and berries want to distract the viewer from the things that the human figures are doing to one another, or sometimes the things that they refuse to do.
 

Some drawings are subtly heartbreaking >>>
Some are so sweet that you let out a breathe that you didn't know that you were holding in >>>

One of the things that draws me again and again to Davis' work is the way pain and hope are entwined in even her simplest images. You can feel the struggle to find answers to why we should persist. She often focuses on sex, love and the body and, unsurprisingly, all of those themes are present in 31 DRAWINGS THAT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING IN LOVE AND NOT BEING IN LOVE. Sometimes, especially in her sketchbook work, anger or disgust with, well, human beings, comes through first, but instead of feeling like a reminder of horrors, there is an interrogation of relationships that challenges and inspires me.