Not a command, but a benison.
This site is my publicity vehicle, obviously, albeit imperfectly driven. Ofttimes, I even forget to announce my announcements . . . etcetera . . . and “So what,” you ask? Precisely! But today we shall point toward other publicities just cuz.
I read Brendan Connell’s recent novel Unofficial History of Pi Wei. (Say that out loud, why don’tcha. The only way to get the joke.) Witty pastiche of Kung Fu movies and ancient Confucian / Taoist analects. (I’m no expert in either of these forms, admittedly, but the author clearly is.) As with all his work, Brendan is both irreverently creative and creatively reverent. He’s not the least bit reluctant to explore every limit of the formal constraints he’s imposed on himself. Which is the definition of art, perhaps. I should warn you this novel makes a strong case for sex with trees.
I read a wild, unexpected novel-in-stories by someone gorgeously named Ysabeau Wilce recently. Prophecies, Libels & Dreams: Stories of Califa. I had actually ordered a bunch of old mags from a local small press and they threw this book in for the hell of it, maybe as a thank you for spending so much, and it turned out to be the standout of the bunch, by far, for the ecstatic language and the colorful characters, including a charming and petulant youngster—really the best kind of literary character there is, don’t you agree?
Let’s see, I should mention the BEST BOOK I READ LAST YEAR. I don’t know yet, let me consult my listings. Okay. I’m going with Kleinzeit, by Russell Hoban. Let me tell you the story behind my reading this book. There I was at the Amherst Jones Library randomly perambulating the stacks, and my fingers arrested ’pon a particular title (being Kleinzeit, duh), and I deshimmed it from the shelf, opened it unto mine eyes, and what were the very first words I did behold? “Yarrow: fullest stock.” I shit you not. So I checked it out of that there library posthaste, of course. Promptly read it. A bold and brilliant book! Par excellence in language, form, ideas, general zaniness. Such random encounters are my stock in trade, literarily. What I’m saying is all my best literary experiences have sprung from the void. You have to allow it to happen. (And of course, it doesn’t happen online. There’s no such thing as a random encounter when algorithms are runnin’ the show. It’s all decided for you.)
Please take note of all the recent releases at Whiskey Tit. I can aver in particular that Joey Truman’s Postal Child sequel, Postal Child Parlay is an absolute delight to read, and the man’s talent continues to blossom with each new release. I didn’t see the merit of the first Postal Child when I first read it, but Truman’s subsequent releases Killing the Math and Kinderrinder corrected my impression (viz., impressed me), and Parlay is simply a sublime work of the imagination, and I’m honored to share the Tit List with this most writerly gentleman. He has a cookbook coming out now, too, which I am salivating to see!
Please also take note, I was recently notified by our old friend Robin Wyatt Dunn of his upcoming release, The Black King of Kalfour. February 1 will be the time to pounce on that volume at your favorite online emporium of ebooks or paperbacks, take your pick.
Hmm, I usually include links to things I mention, but I don’t feel like it at the moment. Manana. That doesn’t look right. Mañana? Mmm, that impertinent ñ, shaking its wiggle all over the place.