Another Itasca

Another Itasca

 

It’s here of course in

The blondes all the blondes

In sunglasses and jean jackets

That barefoot girl running to

Some assignation carrying

Her sandals the braid flapping

Down the middle of her back

Or the other the brunette

Standing with sad stoic patience

Now one legged like a stork

Waiting for what she’s not

Really sure

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Quote Bag: Shake

 

Let’s shake some heavy stuff out of the Quote Bag, shall we?

 

IN THAT YE ARE CANNIBALS, what meat should I offer?

– Austin Osman Spare

 

Feeble puffing is not my forte. It will do these fellows good to hear the truth, and stimulate them to worthier efforts.

– E. A. Poe

 

Cerebral play is only a mask. Underway beneath this mask is the invasion of the brain by forces unknown to us.

– Andrey Biely

 

Full speed through the darkness, no helmet, with a deep conviction that life could only get more and more fantastic.

– Johan Theorin

 

The animals, plants or inanimate objects, are no sooner confident of success and security than they are utterly destroyed by some superior and usually unconscious agency.

– Sir Kenneth Clark

 

I said to myself: you’re all excited, aren’t you? You kid yourself that she’s merely literature to you – yet that wizened soul of yours put out fresh shoots the moment she’s friendly to you and starts looking at you with those eyes of hers.

– Knut Hamsun

 

Tess Durbeyfield did not divine, as she innocently looked down at the roses in her bosom, that there behind the blue narcotic haze was potentially the ‘tragic mischief’ of her drama – one who stood fair to be the blood-red ray in the spectrum of her young life.

– Thomas Hardy

 

Once her perfect beauty had blinded others. Now they were blinded by her disarray.

– Thomas H. Cook

 

Sexual preoccupation is an imperious thing, and when it’s in full color, it makes all other preoccupations look slightly beside the point.

– Suzanne Berne

 

There was no face in the world so utterly satisfying – no, not one, among the lovely clever good ugly silly wicked faces of this world, all anxious, all selfish, all mean, all unsatisfied and unsatisfying.

– Baron Corvo

 

She was as lovely as only an Irish woman can be, having that in her bearing that betokened quiet pride, having that in her eyes that betokened great longing, having that in her body that betokened happy promise.

– Radclyffe Hall

 

What I woulda done to her shall not be allowed in this Bible. Yet it woulda been spelled LOVE.

– Jack Kerouac

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Men’s Adventure

In honor of their 25th anniversary, those Krazy Krauts at Taschen are republishing some of their finer volumes at a new low, low price. Taschen has always had a fine foreign eye for the pulp sleaze of the good old USA, and one of the reissues is a killer book called Men’s Adventure Magazines, which is mostly ultra-yummy covers from those classic slices of red, white and blue id. I couldn’t help jotting down a number of my favorite article titles, sprinkling a little UBU dust on them and artfully presenting them to you, my beloved readers. And remember it’s all true!!

 

Men’s Adventure or

Nympho Quartet vs The Sex Beast Of The Sea

 

7,250,000 Sex-Starved Man-Hunters On The Prowl

Nothing Can Stop The Strippers

The Vicious Vampire Vamps of Vera Cruz

The Hot House Hussies Who Teased A King

The Doomed Harlots In Hitler’s House Of Horror

The 9 Nudes of Count Perigrin

The Nude Bikini Debs Of The Death-Head Gang

The Underwater Nymphos Who Blasted Tojo’s Navy

The Golden Nympho Who Smashed The Luftwaffe

The Nympho Huntress Of Buckoo Reef

Nympho Gaucho Of The Mato Grosso

The Torrid Tiger Nymph Of Nyasaland

The Commie Hating Joy Girl From Yonggampo

Mme. O’Connor And The House Of Unique Cutlass Colleens

Love Saleswomen On The Loose

Nude Lust Slaves Of Hitler’s Russian Monster

Nude Goddess Of The Aborigines

Velvet-Skinned Doll In The Bonanza Bar

White Flesh For The Warlords Of China

Soul Mates Of Torment For France’s Monster King

Chained Nude For The Monster’s Rack

 

The Nude Swindles Of Piera The Playgirl

The Orgy Trap Of The Commie Brainwash Girls

The Ten Day Orgy Of Brazil’s Lost Women

The Fantastic Lust Plot Of The Nazi Harlot Spy

The Wild Rescue Of The Commies’ Top Sin Doll

The Sex Pills That Are Making Teenage Girls Nymphos

Stretch Pants Teens – Sex Revolt Of Suburbia

Passion Playgrounds Of The Teen Jet Set

Springtime Passion Rites Of Teenagers Gone Wild

Nude Coeds Reward Campus Rioters

Hell Night Orgy For High School Virgins

Torture Trap Of The Nympho Schoolgirls

Lethal Lust Of The Teenage Prom Dancers

Lust Slave Of The Teenage Passion Queens

Jap Water Torture Of Exotic Guerilla Girls

Nude Crossing Of East Germany’s Death Ship

Death Orgy Of The Doomed Vice Queens

 

Cannibal Crabs Crawl To Kill

Mad Monkeys Manned The Lifeboats

Fish With Human Hands Attacked Me

Slashed To Bits By Killer Bats

Chewed Alive And Screaming

 

Trapped In The House Of Nazi Dagger Girls

Trapped In A Blizzard Of Mink Clad Nymphos

Trapped By The Wild Nymphos’ Lust Orgy

I Was Trapped In A Beatnik Brothel

I Was Doomed By The Monkey Gods

I Was Captured By The Love Hungry Virgins Of Tibet

I Ate The Sex Plants Of Ponape

I Watched Myself Being Eaten Alive

I Fought The Queen Of The Switch-Blade Jungle

I Gave My Legs To The Maggots of Africa

I Saw Them Sacrifice Virgins To The Giant-Condors

I Led France’s Silken Harlots Of Slaughter

I Led The Nazi Nymphos Against The Red Hordes

I Led The Revolt Of Castro’s Hell House Harlots

I Sell Love And Passion To Way-Out Women

I’ll Roll You In The Passion Pit Palace

Kruschev’s Secret Wife Was My Mistress

Satan’s Pigs Ate Us Alive

 

Hophead On The Run

Harem Stealing Yank In Arabia

The Redhead Nympho Was A Cannibal

Nude Queen Of The Communist Cannibals

Never Marry A Cannibal

They Made Me Eat My Mate

Give Your Daughters To The She-Monster From Hell

Find The White Queen Of The Jap Guerillas

Swim Through Your Own Blood To Slaughter Beach

 

 

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Lucky

Lucky

 

We meet on the stairs

She’s always late has

A job selling candy

On the other bank

Just before class

She sits next to me

Stretching her legs

Tight white pants feet

In and out of moccasins

Outlined eyes under almost

Orange hair something

Startlingly lioness in

Her half assed amiability

Her effortless growl

Low and Bacall

 

Lucky I’m so good at

Having nothing happen

 

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Department of out of Control Prose and a Pinch of a Shimmy and a Twang

Somebody take away this writer’s pencil!

Anna Ash – 8:30 p.m., Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tearoom, 114 S. Main St. Ash and her friends take stringed instruments and mingle them with a smidgen of soul and a pinch of shimmy and a twang. Her new album is "hello friend (from bird above)." No cover.

Oh, and friend below? Cover your head!

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REPRESSION

repression
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Quote Bag: Symbolism and Its Discontents

 

He thought that the light had ceased to shine in the west and the black wings of night approached across the misty ocean.

European culture had uttered its word. And this word had arisen like an ominous symbol. And this symbol was a dancing skeleton.

And the best in mankind which was not yet asleep was turning into sectarian madness and the ecstasy of delirium.

We "decadents" are convinced that we are the final link in an endless chain of experiences – that central station from which new paths will lead.

– Andrey Biely

 

Indeed, in its wider manifestations, the symbolist movement may be interpreted as a sort of modern Renaissance – one followed by a reformation, the politico-religious debate and strife that have predominated since the 1930’s and driven the esthetic vision very much underground.

For Biely the word was symbol, a unity of two incomprehensible substances: space and time.

– George Reavey

 

One of the objects of the Symbolic quest: that the myth, charged with special cosmic powers and appeals to the irrational, gave new meaning and sacredness to a succession of human gestures.

– Francine-Claire Legrand

 

"Symbolism" was the term Biely always used for the primary concern of his art and life – the tie between man and the transcendent. Rather than being a merely a literary fashion or a category of fictional devices, therefore, this was for him a radical epistemological stance: a new form of cognition, most often based in visual perception, that would accomplish nothing less than the transformation of mankind.

This is a classic example of a symbol as Biely understood the term. The perceiver creates an artifact – the image that exists only in the words that embody it – by infusing something he has seen with his "internal experience." And because these are rooted in a transcendent realm, the resulting symbol becomes an expression of a supernatural truth.

– Vladimir E. Alexandov

The life and works of a symbolist writer are inseparably connected, for his writings reflect his inner experiences insofar as they enable him to glimpse, in moments of creative ecstasy, the absolute that lies beyond the veil of Isis.

Symbolism implied a revelation of ultimate reality through the physical phenomena of our world.

– Oleg Maslenikov

 

The Symbolists did not wish to separate the writer from the man, the literary biography from the personal. Symbolism did not wish to be only an aesthetic school, a literary trend. It constantly endeavored to become a vitally creative method, and therein lay its most profound, and possibly unrealized, truth: its entire history, in essence, passed in the constant striving toward this truth. It was a series of attempts, at times truly heroic, to find the union of life and creativity, its own kind of philosopher’s stone of art.

– Vladislav Khodasevich

 

The symbolist, on the other hand, redefines the whole process of knowing and the status of reality in the light of poetic method. He tries to take both poles of perception into account at once, to view the subjective and objective worlds as functions of each other by regarding both as functions of the speech in which they are rendered. Here is the sum of his quarrel with reason.

– Charles Feildelson, Jr.

 

True symbols, in the sense that the term is here used, are the means by which we express our understanding, or helplessness in understanding, of what we cannot articulate verbally or by any other means. Symbols actually accrete and store the power with which we credit them, and become the more inexhaustible of that power the more they are used, providing the user still feels within himself what the power is.

– R. P. Blackmur

 

He got into everybody’s unconscious with his symbols. That’s part of what he’s about, you know.

– Gregory "Gigi" Hemingway

 

To find new and unexpected links and to add new possibilities to symbol was to many generations the essence of "wit."

Suffice it to say that to him and his contemporaries the Garden of Venus was still peopled with symbolic beings whose very beauty was charged with meaning.

– E. H. Gombrich

 

Whether celebrated in a poem or painting, Rossetti’s susceptibility to feminine beauty pervades all his work without abatement. The result is a tension between the actual model and the written or painted object that the artist utilized in order to re-create an alternative metaphor of exquisite beauty which fused real and imaginary viewpoints.

– Maryan Wynn Ainsworth

 

It must not be thought that in the Intelligible World the gods and blessed see propositions; everything expressed there is a beautiful image.

– Plotinus

 

He is often sublime, at times grotesque, and he is always bordering on the pathological. His painting is the fruit of hyperaestheticism, of abnormal, intolerable intensity. Attraction towards the inherent reality of things is not enough to explain this profound and complex art. He is certainly very conscious of the beauty of colors, but he regards them primarily as a fantastic language, a means of interpreting and visualizing Ideas. In almost everything he does he is a symbolist.

– Albert Aurier

 

A formidable withdrawal of the modern imagination toward the past, an enormous scientific inquiry, and hitherto unknown passions for a vague and still unknown supernatural have driven us to incarnate our dreams and perhaps our trembling before a new unknown in strange symbolism which translates the contemporary spirit just as ancient symbolism once interpreted the soul of the past. Only we don’t place in it our faith and dreams, but rather we put into it our doubts, our dreads, our ennuis, our vices, our despair and probably our dying agonies.

– Emile Verhaeren

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Razor point II

 

Razor Point II
 

Redwing sweatshirt green rain slicker
But not a sincerely ironic rugby shirt
Muttering over some tear or stain
War Story Science Fiction Mental Illness
All in one (relatively) thin ponytailed volume
All of them insufficient models of reality
Legs out on another chair battered Nikes
Holding her pen oddly with ring finger
A puzzle without preconceived solution
A telegraphic schizophrenic tale another
Angle on the relationship between fact and fiction
Her profile a silhouette from Henry James
Both always fiddling for attention – she succeeds
I was thinking as I crossed the bridge even the river
Here has a history a manner of combining facts
She is just a single version of that history
I see the aspect in which I have an interest
Sitting Indian style points out her significance
Involuntary memory the only real connection
Phrases real images pop up again and again
Yellow legal tablet coiled on her desk as
She dashes epigram glances at my head
Establishing a provisional plot around us
Presupposing a different sense of reality
Trying to construct a world from
Two characters in a classroom

 

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Master of the Delta by Thomas H. Cook

 

And here’s my brief review of Thomas Cook’s wonderful, brand new book:

 

 

Master of the Delta, Thomas H. Cook, Harcourt, $24.00

The first element that always draws me into a Thomas H. Cook novel is his magnificent prose. Lush and musical, it’s the perfect vehicle for his tales of buried sin and hidden guilt which often take place in the oldest and most haunted parts of our country.

Master of the Delta is Cook’s latest work, and it’s a very strong addition to a truly distinguished body of work. Set in a small town in the Mississippi delta in 1954, it’s narrated by Jack Branch, the scion of an upper crust family, who, from a somewhat condescending sense of duty, has, like his father before him, become a teacher in the local public high school. Deeply interested in the question of evil in an academic way, he’s soon to encounter it in actuality.

Jack learns that one of his more talented students, Eddie Miller, is the son of the notorious "Coed Killer," and encourages him to come to terms with his family’s history by writing a paper on his father and his crimes. Eddie pursues his task diligently, and in so doing unearths old secrets that threaten the social order of the town.

But along with his great prose, arresting characters and evocative settings, Cook is a masterful plotter, and events in Master of the Delta unfold in intriguing ways, the book concluding with one of his trademark twists, at once completely unexpected and totally logical. With his complex prose and almost overwhelming sense of the tragic, Cook may not appeal to readers who like their mysteries light and inconsequential, but those who aren’t afraid of the dark will appreciate his masterful handling of every literary element and savor Master of the Delta as I did.

 

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Interview with Edgar Winner Thomas H. Cook

Thomas H. Cook is one of a handful of contemporary writers who fill me with awe. When I heard he was coming to the store I was absolutely ecstatic, because he’s one of the really great authors around now in any genre. As part of the attendant publicity, I conducted the following e-mail interview with him, which will appear soon in several places – but lucky RADIOFREEUBU readers can savor it now!

The first thing that always draws me into the "web" of your novels is your prose, which is remarkably rich and musical. Do you spend a lot of time polishing it, or does it just come out that way and need only minor adjustments?

I spend a great deal of time on the actual writing.  I am a great fan of the "passage," a paragraph or description that is exactly right.  I also love a well-turned phrase, and really enjoy coming across such things in the books I read.  I grew up reading both Hemingway and Faulkner, and although each was quite different from the other, I found that I loved them both, Hemingway for his precision and Faulkner for his song.   When a phrase seems right, I rejoice, but I also really have to avoid being purple, because Faulkner could surely colorize the page, and when I’m not careful, I do, too.  I really do have to watch it, but even so, I lose it sometimes, then go back and cringe.

 

Are there any prose stylists you model yourself after? I always see some echoes of Faulkner in your sentences.

I hadn’t read this question before answering the one before it, so you’re certainly right, there are those shades of Faulkner.  The older I get the more I try to rein them in, however, and with RED LEAVES, I tried to be pretty spare.  But dead writers die hard, and once someone’s in your brain, as Faulkner is in mine, it’s hard to keep him out.

As far as modern writers, I am a fan of Ian McEwan, Alice McDermott, Alice Munro, Barry Unsworth and Robert Stone, though I can’t say I try to model my writing on theirs.  

 

But in my opinion, you’re more than just a stylist, you’re the total package. Most of your books have a plot twist at the end that is both logical and unexpected. Do you plan out the ending and the very plot twists from the very beginning?

I never use an outline, never do a treatment, and never know how my books are going to end until the ending comes.  This is very nerve-wracking for a crime novelist, since ambiguity cannot be my theme.  Main stream writers can get by without some fixed resolution, but crime writers really can’t, and it is this part of crime writing, the rigid need for a "surprise" that drives me crazy, and which I wish I didn’t have to do.  Most mystery endings require this "surprise" and it very often falls on its face.  I wish we could move mystery readers beyond this requirement, somehow, because I’m sure they are very often disappointed by endings.  General readers never require a ‘surprise’ from their mainstream writers, and I think these writers can work more freely because of that.  For me as a reader, the book is still primarily about the story, and a good story does not need a surprise ending or some cheesy kind of "resolution."

 

Setting is another important ingredient in your work. What draws you to New England and the South?

I have lived for long periods in both areas, as well as in New York. I currently live on Cape Cod and in NYC, so these areas are the ones that quite naturally present themselves as settings.   In addition, I often write about people in small towns, and those settings are plentiful in the South and New England.  I’d love to write a novel set in Europe, but it would have to be about a guy from the South or New York or New England currently traveling in Europe.  Otherwise, it just wouldn’t fly.

 

 

You’ve also written a couple of true crime books and had protagonists who were true crime writers. Did the experience influence your vision of evil and would you ever consider writing another?

I would love to write non-fiction again, though not necessarily true crime.  That said, writing those two true-crime books loaded me up with material for my fiction, and even provided a few set pieces in Evidence of Blood.  I have been contracted to write a very strange travel book, however, one which will probably take two or three years to write, but which I am enjoying very much at the moment.

 

If I were going to predict which crime writer was going to collaborate with Larry King on a comic thriller, you are not the first person who would come to mind. How did this come about and what was the experience like?

The publisher, I think it was, had the original idea of Larry writing a mystery.  This was quite a while ago, and so I can’t be sure of the details, but this strikes me as the case.  The publisher contacted a friend of mine who recommended me for the job.  I had always wanted to write a comic novel, because my stuff is so dark, and it can really get depressing sometimes, but the fact is, no one had actually planned for it to be a comic novel, at least not at the beginning.  Anyway, Larry and I met for lunch in Washington and got along very well.  He’s a very smart guy, and as you would expect, a pretty good guy at conversation.  We hit it off, and decided to do the book.  A few weeks later 19 barbarians drove two planes into the World Trade Center, and after that Larry and I decided to write a Valentine to New York City, and that’s how Moon Over Manhattan was born.

 

After your three book series with Frank Clemons, you’ve always written stand alone books. In not writing a series and your strong tragic sense you’re in opposition to a few of the prevailing currents in mystery. Do you ever feel isolated or have pressure to write a more conventional series?

I tried to write a series, but got bored, and so stopped doing it.  Part of writing for me is the pleasure of creating new characters in new settings.  Series writing just wasn’t for me.  Have I suffered as a result, at least in terms of fame and money?  Yep, I probably have.  But the last book in that series was so bad that I’ve come to face the fact that had I written a series it wouldn’t have been very good, so the bucks and celebrity would probably have slipped from my fingers anyway.

 

Do you read a lot of crime fiction? Do you have any favorites in the field and can you recommend any newer writers to our customers?

I read a great deal of non-fiction and a good deal of mainstreams fiction, but I also read crime novels, though listing my favorite authors in print would entail slighting others so I think I’ll play that one close to the vest.  I will say that my favorite crime novel of recent years was A CRIME IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD by Suzanne Berne.

 

Are you working on another novel now? Can you give us a sneak preview?

The new novel is called THE FATE OF KATHERINE CARR. It is about a man who is increasingly drawn into a story written by a woman who vanished twenty years before.  The book takes place in a small New England town in the present, and centers around George Gates, a former travel writer who specialized in writing about places where people disappeared, sometimes individuals, like Judge Crater, sometimes whole societies, like the Lost Colony.  Since the murder of his eight year old son, Gates has written stories about the sunny side of things for the town paper — flower festivals and profiles of local celebrities.  Enter Arlo MacBride, a retired missing persons detective who is also the subject of one of Gates’ profiles.  MacBride recalls the case of Katherine Carr, a woman who vanished twenty years before, leaving nothing behind but a few poems and a "weird story."  It is this story Gates reads to Alice, a child dying of progeria, and about whom he is also writing a profile for the paper.   The reading of this story spurs Gates and Alice to inquire into its missing author’s brief life and dire fate, an exploration that leads each of them to discoveries of their own about life and death, mystery and resolution.

  

 

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