Hey Joe

Larry Brown - A belated tribute

Larry Brown

1951 - 2004

 

Because I wasn't writing this blog back in 2004 when author, Larry Brown passed away, I never had the opportunity to write about him for my celebrity deaths category. This sucks because I love his work and his passing was a great loss to literature.

I was introduced to Brown's work by an anonymous poster in the Craigslist writer's forum. I had written a post asking for some good book recommendations and someone suggested Larry Brown, a "Southern writer with some clever stories." I did a little research and ended up purchasing Father and Son, a book Brown wrote in 1996.

As I've mentioned in numerous book posts, I love flawed characters, and Brown's books are full of them; drunks, hoodlums, thieves and sluggards coexisting with decent, hard-working, common people. Most of his stories take place in the south (Brown was born, raised, lived and died in Mississippi) and often exhibit the harsh side of life. His characters are not always sympathetic, but they are true.

Always an avid reader, Brown began writing and submitting short stories in 1980, (an inspiration to us "older" writers) while working as a firefighter for the Oxford Fire Dept., and eventually received his first publishing credit with a story in the bikes and boobs magazine, Easyrider. In 1988 he published Facing the Music, a collection of short stories, followed by a second collection, Big Bad Love in 1990.

I also credit Brown for turning me on to writer Harry Crews. I believe it was in Billy Ray's Farm where Brown credits Crews' Feast of Snakes as an influence

Brown's full collection is below. The ones in bold are those I've read, all of which I can recommend.

• Facing the Music (1988) - short stories
• Dirty Work (1989) - novel
• Big Bad Love (1990) - short stories
• Joe (1991) - novel
• On Fire (1993) - autobiography
• Father and Son (1996) - novel
• Fay (2000) - novel
• Billy Ray's Farm: Essays from a Place Called Tula (2001) - Essays
• The Rabbit Factory (2003) – novel – as of the date of this post I am still reading, but so far it's great.
• (posthumously) A Miracle of Catfish (2007) - novel – (not sure if I want to read this. He died before he could finish it and the book supposedly ends with his notes as to how he planned to end it. That could be…unsatisfying.)

A heavy smoker, Brown died of a heart attack at his home near Oxford on November 24, 2004 at the age of 53. His early death robbed the world of what surely would have been a much larger body of outstanding work.

Summer fodder

I'm pretty tired this morning. That's what I get for going to bed thinking about bills and money and financial crap. After tossing and turning for about 20 minutes I gave up and got up and watched most of Alien Nation.

So we went to a used book sale at the local library on Saturday; tons of books and too many people, lured by the bargain of $1 books. But I elbowed my way past the old biddy's scrounging through Oprah's Book Club selections to scrounge up a few selections of my own.

I've never been a huge Jack London fan, but he wrote some classics and I've had drinks at Heinold's First and Last Chance Saloon several times, so I figured I owed it to old Jack not to leave his work floundering amongst the supermarket paperbacks. He's lucky it was only a dollar though.

Yea, I bought this because I'm queer. Shut the f*ck, up. Actually I've probably read more about Burroughs than anything he actually wrote. I think the most Burroughs I've read were bits and pieces from The Portable Beat Reader; one of those books for folks who really don't want to read any of the beat writers, but want to pretend as though they have. I tried to read Naked Lunch once and just got all befuddled. We'll see if Queer has a similar effect.

The naked chick caught my eye. What can I say? Saw the relatively sh*tty movie with Meg Ryan and Mark Ruffalo several years ago. The books are always better than the movies so what the hell.

Comedian, Steve Martin wrote this novella several years ago and I recall hearing some good things about it. I believe a movie was made as well but I'm not sure. I know that if it was, I've never seen it. I've always liked Martin, and figure this will make a good addition to my Steve Martin library, right next to Cruel Shoes on my bookshelf.

My buddy Tom was telling me about this book. I believe it's Clavell's first novel. I've never read any Clavell but he's supposed to be good. I figure since King Rat is his first novel and not nearly as thick as Shōgun, it's a good one to start with.

This is another book that I've heard good things about. Actually it may have been the John Cusack movie that I heard good things about; a movie we actually just saw for the first time several weeks ago. I'm sorry to say that I was disappointed in it. Maybe it's a "younger man's" movie. Maybe the book is too.

I didn't actually buy this book as I already own it, a first addition with a personal message written to me by my pal Chuck Kinder, however whilst rummaging through the many boxes full of books that were under the display tables, I came across a pristine hard cover copy of this, his most recent book. So I shoved aside a few copies of Koontz and King and gave old Chuck a more prominent place on the display table.

You're welcome old buddy.

Salinger found

Monday night, once again unable to sleep thanks to the Prednisone, I stayed up late and finished Salinger: a Biography, by Paul Alexander. I also finished off a chimichunga and the last of the Tyson Spicy Buffalo Strips ®

The difficult thing with a biography about someone as reclusive as J.D. Salinger is that the author must basically piece together his book based on what has already been written, personal letters and interviews with those friends, old classmates, professors and colleagues of Salinger's who were willing to speak with him. Without any cooperation from the subject, much of the book is simply speculation with lots of "it can be assumed that…" or "Because of "X" it can be inferred that Salinger felt this way…"

I must admit that as much as I love The Catcher in the Rye, and many of the Nine Stories, frankly I found Franny and Zooey and Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction rather boring and aimless. I fear that after so many years in seclusion, seemingly out of touch with the world, that even if Salinger has been writing, much of his work could prove to be bizarre, rambling, introspective slop.

The book paints him as an obviously gifted writer, but one whom for various reasons, chose to withdraw from public life and no longer publish his work. While there seems little doubt that Salinger has spent much of the past 30 years writing, there is also much speculation as to exactly how much. There is mention of as many as 15 fully completed novel manuscripts locked away in a safe, but no one seems to know for sure. Perhaps he's destroyed much of what he's written or has simply filled page after page with gibbery bullshit. Who knows? Does he watch the news or have internet access? How much has he kept up on the happenings of the world beyond The Claremont Eagle Times?

It's no secret that Salinger's combat experiences in WWII had a lasting impact on his psyche and his work. Much has also been written about his proclivity for younger women, those "…Just past the last minutes of girlhood," and there are those who speculate that because of this particular yen, Salinger has chosen to avoid public scrutiny, lest he be branded a child molester, or at the least a dirty old man.

We do know that Salinger has two children, actor Matt Salinger and daughter Margaret Salinger. Margaret's memoir, Dream Catcher, was published in 2000, shortly after the publication of Alexander's book. According to Margaret, J.D. is still writing and is able to live on the royalties from The Catcher in the Rye, (and the others) which sells in the neighborhood of 250,000 copies a year.

There was one passage from the book which spoke of Salinger's early publishing days that I really enjoyed:

"At the time, Collier's, along with Esquire and the Saturday Evening Post, was among a small number of magazines that controlled the commercial fiction market. During the 1930's and 1940's, before television, magazines that published popular fiction attracted enormous audiences and generated substantial sums of money in advertising revenues. To ensure their competiveness, magazines paid those writers who could produce material so much money that some authors were able to make a living writing nothing but short stories."

What a great time that must have been, before society became dependent on television for its entertainment. Back when short fiction was not only valued, but valuable.

So in the great tradition of short fiction, I give you a few of my own published works, for which I was paid enormous and substantial sums of Jack-squat.

• P5K
• American Dream Job
• The Bellhop
• The Decision

Searching for Salinger

So I was thinking about J.D. Salinger the other day. I don't recall what prompted it. Probably my Catcher in the Rye reference in this post. But I got to thinking that this guy has got to be pretty damn old. To save you the trouble, he turned 89 on January 1, 2008.

I hope my thinking about him, and the fact that he's pretty damn old and certainly must be part of someone's celebrity death pool, doesn't somehow jinx him, thereby causing him to croak.

On the other hand, I also read that according to Joyce Maynard, Salinger continued writing even though he chose not to publish, viewing publication as "a damned interruption." And that Salinger's daughter, Margaret Salinger, described a detailed filing system that J.D. had for his unpublished manuscripts:

"A red mark meant, if I die before I finish my work, publish this 'as is.' Blue meant publish but edit first, and so on."

So, yeah. While I certainly wish J.D. no ill will and have no desire to see him make an appearance in a Celebrity Death post, I sure wouldn't mind a few new tidbits of his work.

Let’s just call it official

As you may recall, recently I decided to try and tackle Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song.

As I indicated in my 2-4-08 update: "I got almost 100 pages into this bitch and just got bored with it. I guess I really don't care enough about Gilmore (or Mailer) to wade through it.

So with having moved on to I Am Legend, I will officially declare myself a pussy. But as my pal Chuck Kinder said, "What's wrong with that? Some of my best friends are pussies."

That being said, so far I'm really digging Legend. Originally published in 1954 it was clearly a huge influence on the zombie movies of George Romero, as well as the work of novelist Stephen King. I've heard both good and bad reviews of the Will Smith movie; however I will form my own opinion once it's released next month. I'm a sucker for good zombie/vampire movies (also looking forward to 30 Days of Night and The Mist) so my inner sucker will likely sway my review.

Mailer, Kinder, Gilmore, and one fat mother of a book

In a recent e-mail exchange with my pal, Chuck Kinder, I wrote:

Hi Chuck,

I'm not sure if you were a fan of Mailer's work or not. I have never read any of it but was wondering what you would consider:

• A good book to introduce myself to his work
• His best work (Not always the same as the first point)

Chuck wrote back:

My favorite novel of Mailer's was actually his first, his big war book, THE NAKED AND THE DEAD. My favorite overall book of his was THE EXECUTIONER'S SONG, a nonfiction work about the killer Gary Gilmore. I was a big admirer of Mailer's, both as a man & a writer. He did it his way.

As Chuck indicated, The Executioner's Song is Mailer's 1979 Pulitzer Prize winning novel about Gary Gilmore and his execution by the state of Utah. So based on my good friend's recommendation, I have once again lugged this behemoth from our local library. I'd checked it out shortly after Mailer's passing, but found myself intimidated by the sheer girth of the thing, (that's what she said). At 995 pages, it's not a book for pussies.

I'll let you know soon whether or not I'm a pussy.

Update: 2-4-08

OK, I'm officially a pussy. I got almost 100 pages into this bitch and just got bored with it. I guess I really don't care enough about Gilmore (or Mailer) to wade through it.

On to Matheson's I Am Legend

The economics of literature

I was saddened to read in our local paper that Bonanza Street Books, a Walnut Creek fixture for more than twenty years, will be closing its doors for good come March 2008.

One of the few remaining independent bookstores, Bonanza has suffered the fate of many if not most independent small business owners; they can no longer compete with the "box stores" of the world, be they Barnes and Noble, Wal-Mart or Costco. One day the small business owner will become a thing of the past, and we'll spend our money and eat our meals in nothing but chain restaurants and stores.

I've always been a fan of bookstores, and the used book store in particular. Used bookstores offer the possibility of discovering some hidden treasure; a first edition of an old favorite, or perhaps a book by a favorite, lesser known author whose works are not normally stocked at the big stores, lest they sit on the shelf too long.

I'm actually somewhat surprised that in this day and age there are still a few independent bookstores around, although we SF/Bay Area folks are a literate lot. In addition to Bonanza, we still have Clayton Books, Bay Books, Hooked on Books, and Berkshire Books, all within approximately 10 sq miles of each other. Unfortunately, I don't imagine that used books bring in much money and Bay Area rents are far from cheap. I fear it's only a matter of time before many of these places disappear.

But saddened as I am at the decline of the independent, I'm as guilty as anyone in helping to hustle them toward obscurity. While I do tend to buy mostly used books, I get most of them at half.com or Amazon. I've grown so used to the convenience of the online shopping experience that I tend to over-look the exorbitant shipping costs most sellers seem to charge. Does it really cost $4 to ship a book or am I just taking it in the ass? Regardless, the simplicity of a few key strokes and mouse clicks acts as a gentle lubricant; a soothing balm.

If I could find what I'm looking for at some of the independents for the same price that I find online, I'd be more apt to employ their services. But when was the last time you saw a book in great shape for .50 at a bricks and mortar bookstore? So even accounting for the $4 shipping costs, I still get the book I want, in good condition, mailed directly to my home at a decent price. I save on gas and time and probably the cost of the book because on the off chance the book store does have what I'm looking for, they're still going to charge me around $3 - $8 for the book, which in the end works out about the same.

Boy, what started off as a battle cry to save the independent has sort of turned into a case for obliterating the sorry bastards. That won't do.

OK, in an effort to walk the talk (How I loathe that term) I have e-mailed a wish list to Clayton Books and Berkshire books, asking if they have any in stock and if so, their asking price. I will keep you posted on the responses because I know, as always, how much you care.

Update - 1-17-08

I have yet to hear back from Berkshire Books (I foresee their inevitable extinction), however, not only did I receive a prompt and courteous reply from Clayton Books, but they had two of my selections in stock and could receive the others within 2-3 days. Thus, they are holding I am Legend and have ordered Notes of a Dirty Old Man. I expect to pick up my purchases this weekend.

I actually had inquired about six books, but unfortunately Clayton Books only had access to new copies,  no used. Being a cheap bastard, and only having $25 on my gift card, I could only purchase two. Two books plus tax will more than likely still require me to come out of pocket with some cash. Amazing.

I will continue to await a response from Berkshire Books.

Chinaski to the rescue

After spending the past several weeks reading Are We Alone, today i finished it and have moved on to Hollywood by Charles Bukowski.  My mind having been expanded beyond the limits of time and space; questioning the truth about life, our very existence and purpose, I need the simple, straight forward truth that is Bukowski; what you see is what you get. there are no questions, just what is.

I have to admit that much of Are We Alone sailed clear over my head. I've come to accept the fact that I am not nor will I ever be, one of the great thinkers, the men who are able to make sense of the theories and ponder the big questions and actually come to some sort of conclusion beyond "Gaak."

For the next week or so it will be life Bukowski style, wine, women and song. But if you think Buk wasn't a big thinker, then you probably have not read him. For between the lines of excess are scattered more than a few pearls and nuggets of truth and wisdom. And the brain doesn't hurt so much after reading him. That's usually caused by the booze.

Open letter to Dr. John

After a recent post, Dr. John recommended I read Are We Alone?

Dear John,

Last night, my head exploded. The next time I see you, please remind me to kick you in the nuts.

Hope you are well.

Joe

November 15 - Buried in Books

As you can see, I am currently reading Gonzo - The life of Hunter S. Thompson. It's an oral history, meaning that the book is comprised of quotes and recollections from those who knew him best. So far it's OK; I guess I just prefer a straight historical/chronological-type biography. A collection of quotes and memories just feels too choppy and not enough like a real book. In any event, it is an interesting read, and he was definitely a strange and brilliant character.

But on the subject of books, I recall an episode from The Twilight Zone series (season one; episode eight to be exact) entitled "Time Enough at Last." The central character is one Henry Bemis, "a bookish little man whose passion is the printed page but who is conspired against by a bank president and a wife and a world full of tongue-cluckers and the unrelenting hands of a clock."

An avid reader, Henry Bemis would steal into the vault at the bank where he worked. There he would spend his lunch time lost in the pages of a book. One day he is knocked unconscious by a mysterious shockwave. He wakes to discover a a world destroyed by nuclear war. Obviously distraught, Henry plans to commit suicide. But wait! Is it? It IS! A library!. Oh joy! Rapture!. Henry suddenly finds himself surrounded by books, books and more books; all the time in the world and no one around to cluck at him. He searches and gathers, a veritable kid in a candy store, books to read for years to come. Oh but the Gods of Fate are not kind to poor Henry, for just as he settles down to read his first selection, his glasses fall from his face, shattering upon the rubble, leaving Henry "forever trapped in a blurry world."

So yea, kind of an odd and random lead in to simply say that I'm kind of feeling like old Henry these days; more books to read in the time I've got to read them. In addition to reading Gonzo, I currently have the following books on hold at our local library:

• An American Dream - Norman Mailer
• The Executioner's Song - Norman Mailer
• Are We Alone? - P.C. Davies
• Mariette in Ecstasy - Ron Hansen
• The Walking Dead Vol V - Robert Kirkham

Believe it or not, I've never read any Mailer, so naturally when he croaked I figured, OK, now I have to read him. My friend, Dr. John, in response to my The Truth is Out There post, recommended Are We Alone. Says the good doctor, (Davies) "writes books for everyman that address the philosophical questions well. He is not hostile to the idea of God, like so many physicists are." I like to think of myself as an "everyman" so while I don't often take book recommendations (don't ask me why, I'll explain it one day) I'm willing to give it a whirl.   

I also just read a review in EW where the reviewer described Mariette in Ecstasy as the best mystery (possibly detective novel) he'd ever read. And it's an oldie, originally published in 1947. I don't have the review in front of me but I'll check it out again and update this section. Why don't I just wait until tomorrow to publish this post? Because it's NaBloPoMo dammit and I'm under a deadline here!

In addition to the books above I've also got a few Harry Crews on the shelf that I have yet to read. Richard Russo has just come out with a new book, Bridge of Sighs that I will need to pick up. Shitty title - sounds like a chick book, but everything else Russo's done has been so great that I can't let the title dissuade me.

So as you can see, while I may not have enough to get me through more than perhaps seven weeks of world annihilation, given my current time restrictions I've certainly got more than enough to see me through the winter, and probably well into spring. And with that, enough writing. Let's do some reading.

P.S. - The review of Mariette in Ecstasy was written by James Lee Burke, who said: "Ron Hansen's M.I.E. is the best "mystery" I have ever read..." "...If you read this book, I promise that you will never forget it."

So there you go.