Odds and Ends

Well, yours truly and Mrs. truly are soon to be homeowners for the first time, which means the book packing has begun. If you don't hear from me for a while, it probably just means that my newly muscular arms destroyed the keyboard in a display of unforeseen strength. Until then, I will do my best to keep you apprised of noteworthy events, books published, and the like.

I did manage to attend the reading at New Orleans' historic Latter Library this past Saturday, August 1. Laura Mattingly, Danny Kerwick, Martha McFerrin and Chris Champagne were the participants, all very good in their very different ways.

Mattingly, introduced by emcee and occasional participant Gina Ferrara as someone who rafted the Mississippi (particularly impressive to this reader, presently working on Huck Finn and Life on the Mississippi), seems to write from a perspective of youthful discovery, including handwritten poems seemingly random pieces of paper. The highlight was her last poem, about a tattooed street youth named Cisco, lingering near death after being stabbed. Compassionate and powerful, it reminded me of Jim Carroll's "People Who Died," alchemically bestowing dignity on someone who superficially seemed to live his life in rejection of it.

Danny Kerwick read from his new book You Stand Alongside Death, a book-length poem released by Foothills Publishing, and illustrated with a gorgeous painting by Patricia Kaschalk. I will try to have a review of the book posted soon, but the excerpts read by Danny had a crystalline beauty to them, each image a carefully and starkly crafted moment of consciousness that has unsuccessfully eluded capture.

Martha McFerrin was the member of the group with the most high-falutin' academic credentials, and she did make generous use of references to Yeats and Knossos and Orpheus. But a keen wit was wedded to the esotericism (I might have made up that word), and she wrote wistfully of her roots in northeast Texas, a piney-wooded region that has produced its share of unique individuals (think Bill Moyers, George Foreman, Bubba Ho-Tep writer and cult novelist Joe Lansdale, and Albert Parsons, the former teenage Confederate soldier who married a former slave and ended up at the end of a noose, executed for his agitation in Chicago on behalf of the campaign for the eight-hour working day).

Chris Champagne, known for his one-man theatrical performances lampooning New Orleans public figures, finished up with some surreal wordplay, including a remarkable Hemingway parody that transcended mere imitation. We've all heard a few sentences or even paragraphs from the competition in Key West every year, exploiting the obvious cliched bread crumbs that Hemingway graciously left on his way out, but Champagne took it to a whole new level, channeling, I don't know, Alfred Jarry or Antonin Artaud or someone within that whole Paris orbit.

Unfortunately, I believe that the Latter Library's readings fall on the first Saturday of the month, which conflicts with the Freret Market, where Deep South Samizdat Books has an ongoing presence, providing greater New Orleanians with quality literature in a wonderful outdoor setting (when the fires of Hades are not upon us in the summer).

For those of you outside of the city, you can always shop online at amazon.com/shops/deepsouthsamizdatbooks. Recent additions to the online inventory include A Thomas Merton Reader, Wallace Stegner's Joe Hill, a biography of Jane's Addiction, studies of African-American religion, some writings on economics that are probably helpful for those of you still trying to make sense of the real world, and books by Kinky Friedman, Doris Lessing and Primo Levi.

And finally, from the digital mailbag, Joe in Brooklyn writes:

I'm seeing spots over here, man!

Anyway, GREAT first post. I was not familiar with Kaufman's manifesto. Love how you weaved it in. I've booked marked it and will be checking it daily (okay, weekly) and am already trying to come up with something worthwhile to contribute.

However... I will do none of the above unless you CHANGE THE COLOR. Black is devastating to read on, especially since once you click off it and go to a more neutral (esp. white) backgrounded page, you feel like you are going blind.

Joe

RESPONSE:

Ask (or in this case, demand in all caps), and you shall receive, my friend. As you can see, my crack technical support team worked overtime and did in fact change the color of the background from black to white (when will we get beyond this?), thereby eliminating any shortcuts to edginess I previously enjoyed. It's just up to the writing, now, I suppose.

But on to Bob Kaufman. How could you not know the Abomunist Manifesto, Joe? What did they teach you in that Yankee MFA school, how to sit around on the floor with wine and cheese and mispronounce "allegorical" and "didacticism" (Woody Allen, Manhattan)? Get your head out of that Don Delillo novel, put down the bagel, and march down to the Strand and get some Bob Kaufman. And while you're at it, grab a copy of the Times-Picayune and read in pure, unadulterated fear the Saints and LSU previews as they both prepare for utter domination. Talk to you soon, my friend--Parker