real people

As you may have surmised, while my novel is entirely fictional, it does invoke a number of “real life” celebrities from various art worlds, both highbrow and lowbrow. For a little while, I thought it would be interesting to contact some of these “real” people and give them an opportunity to deny any association with my fictional characters. I thought this might help my readers distinguish between fiction and reality.

The first person I approached was the philosopher Slavoj Žižek. I went to a talk he gave a few months ago at Cooper Union. The talk ended kind of abruptly because there was a bomb threat, but Žižek was gracious enough to stick around for a bit to sign copies of his book. I stood in line, but when I reached the front, instead of getting his autograph, I handed him a copy of my manuscript and said, “I wrote a novel and you’re a character in it.” He seemed kind of taken aback. He said, “Oh no, what, am I like that Jim Carrey character in ‘Dumb and Dumber’?”

I had inserted a brief note in the ms with my email address. I suggested that he might want to make a formal statement denying any actual association with my fictional characters. I’m afraid he didn’t write me back. I followed up with a message to his website. I thought he might want to say, “Santutxo Etxeberria is a figment of Barbara Browning’s imagination. He was never a guest at a dinner party attended by me, Analia Hounie and Gayatri Spivak. Furthermore, Cameron Diaz does seem like an interesting person. Why is this treated as a comical assertion?”

Again, he didn’t respond.

Then I thought maybe I should just pilfer some material from real interviews that were already a part of the public record. I thought maybe I could just cite them as though the celebrities were talking about my characters, but I could footnote the original sources so that any curious reader with an internet connection would quickly discover that they’d actually been talking about other things.

I ran this by a lawyer friend. Since I already mentioned that “Lacanian lawyer,” you may think I know a lot of people in the legal profession. In fact, I don’t. But I’m starting to find that lawyers can be pretty interesting people (who knew?). One of them told me I needed to worry about “rights of publicity,” which is basically exploiting somebody else’s celebrity status for your own personal gain.

I wrote one of the big shots in this legal field. I said I was thinking about trying to use a blurb from Björk that was pilfered from some random e-mail interview she’d done for the Brooklyn Rail (“i always feel i say too much...”), and maybe another from Mikhail Baryshnikov on Larry King (“Next question.”) – as though they were trying to be discreet about the identity of Vivian’s lovers. I said, “Are they likely to sue me?” He said a lawyer could really only prudently respond that anybody could sue you... He did, however, think it was an interesting idea... But very possibly actionable.

I gave it one last shot. I sent the manuscript to Laurie Anderson. She was so nice! She wrote back right away! She thought the book looked “cool”! But she declined to give me a blurb denying any association with Binh...

Binh wasn’t surprised. He said, “Laurie is a very sweet girl...”

Two Dollar Radio Shirts Make Your Nose Not Bleed at High Altitudes.

Because people are quite generally rad, we've gotten a really quality recent crop of model pictures from exotic locales.

People in Costa Rica, Peru, and on our tee page on mountains in Vermont defying nose-bleeds!!!

I love it.

Ponytail Live in Berlin

Binh was at this show. He never, however, made a music video for Ponytail. Also, anything you may have heard about a "slumber party" with the Vivian Girls is just gossip. But the story about the "playdate" with the couple he met at the UdK was true.

A Lacanian Love Story

I was recently introduced to a woman who was described to me as a “Lacanian lawyer.” I thought that was funny! She turned out to be charming and very interesting. Her area of expertise is art law. She writes about “moral rights,” a branch of the law which basically says that if you are an artist and I buy a painting you made, I’m not allowed to draw a moustache on it, even though I “own” it. I’m not supposed to compromise your artistic vision.

I found this appalling! The Lacanian lawyer was also concerned. We bonded over our mutual powerful reaction to those doodles that the Chapman brothers did all over that set of Goya etchings.

I mention this because Binh and I also discussed the Chapman brothers. He has some pretty unpredictable views on the topic of intellectual property. I am basically a communist, so I have my doubts about property in general, but Binh is a little more concerned about controlling his product. This may just be because I am something of a charlatan, while he’s what you might call an artist of genius.

Goya, needless to say, was an artist of genius. Still, or maybe because of this, I find this doodle by the Chapman brothers profoundly moving.

By the way, when I’m asked to describe my novel in a phrase, I sometimes say it’s a “Lacanian love story.” I think this is about as funny as a “Lacanian lawyer.”

wurm

Here’s a short video by Binh. He filmed it on his cell phone. He says he particularly likes the sound, although he has no recollection of the worm making this much noise:

An Arty Berlin Theme Hotel

I am thrilled that my novel, The Correspondence Artist, will be coming out with Two Dollar Radio. When Eric asked me if I would blog a bit about my book, I thought it might be interesting to give potential readers a little background information about my characters – specifically, the four fictional manifestations of “the paramour,” the narrator’s celebrity lover whose “true” identity must remain undisclosed.

I’m dedicating this week to items relating to Duong Van Binh, the twenty-something digital art star currently living in Berlin.

My narrator, Vivian, first met Binh in the lobby of an arty theme hotel there called Propeller Island City Lodge. It’s run by Binh’s friend, Lars Stroschen. Lars also has a record label (experimental electronic).

That first encounter between Vivian and Binh is a little disorienting. There’s a weird confrontation with Binh’s jealous ex involving Coca-Cola and violence. Vivian’s confusion on that trip is only augmented by the fact that she’s staying in the “Upside Down Room”:

Still, despite my narrator’s awkward experience, I wouldn’t dissuade you from staying at Propeller Island. In fact, you may want to check out a couple of the other rooms:

The White Ribbon

Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon has already been exterminated, exfoliated and hermaneuticized, and will undoubtedly be the subject of numerous PhD theses. But let’s cut to the chase. The film’s historical context, the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand in Sarejevo, immediately forces the viewer to pluck out his or her retrospectroscope. Should the viewer call to mind Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s Hitler’s Willing Executioners, which throws cold water on the banality-of-evil theory invoked by Hannah Arendt in Eichman in Jerusalem, or turn to Elias Canetti’s Crowds and Power to understand the impending sense of doom and horror that grows amidst Haneke’s astonishing, unflinchingly beautiful set pieces? Christian Berger’s cinematography owes more to Zeno and Parmenides of the Eleatic School of pre-Socratic philosophy than to film-school technique, as his black and white shots strive towards a prison-like stasis. It is almost disturbing to detect motion in some of the compositions, which are interrupted by movements so discreet that we at first mistake them for trompe l’oeil.

Etiology and innocence are the themes that Haneke (The Piano Player, Caché) is playing with, and his mise en scène is virtually inextricable from the narration. The oppressive luminescence of sunlight on snow is one of the recurring images in this exploration of human sadism and childhood’s lack of innocence. The butchering of an already crippled bird, the torture of two children (one retarded), the tripping of a horse and rider, an adolescent put to sleep with his hands tied to preempt masturbation—these are just a few of the images woven into a tapestry of evil that becomes a work of great beauty. Evil beauty is not an oxymoron if we consider The Divine Comedy, or Nancy Milford’s book about Edna St. Vincent Millay, Savage Beauty. Emily Dickinson's memorable line, “Split the lark and you’ll find the music,” gives a hint what Haneke’s getting at, only in this case it’s the music that leads to a dead bird. One can’t help can’t help but think of Bergman’s Winter Light. Haneke’s stern pastor is a dead ringer for Gunnar Bjornstand, who plays a similar role in the Bergman film. The two cinematic personae are due for a tête a tête.

[This was originally posted to The Screaming Pope, Francis Levy's blog of rants and reactions to contemporary politics, art and culture.]

Our Authors are Effing Rad

In the future we plan to incorporate blog posts from our various authors, since it can become kind of stale (and redundant) reading (and writing) solely from one person's vantage. And what better source for additional perspectives than our very own authors?

Starting Monday, Barbara Browning, author of the forthcoming The Correspondence Artist (early 2011) will be guest-posting for the entire week.

Equally awesome on the awesome-thermometer, is that we asked some of our authors whether they'd be willing to model our line of tee shirts for our website. Below are some of their glamour shots (there are more to come!):

Xiaoda Xiao, author of The Cave Man and

The Visiting Suit: Stories From My Prison Life (Nov. '10).

Grace Krilanovich, author of The Orange Eats Creeps (Sept. '10).

Joshua Mohr, author of Some Things That Meant the World to Me

and Termite Parade (July '10).

Amy Koppelman, author of I Smile Back.

Francis Levy, author of Erotomania: A Romance.

Questions for John Martin

In 2007, while we were waiting for our new distribution contract with Consortium to take effect, I spent some time researching older presses and publishers because I found it both interesting and inspiring. I read about Noel Young of Capra Press "69ing" books by featuring an experienced author on one side and a debut writer on the opposite, which is where I got the idea to flip the two autonomous Wurlitzer novels Flats and Quake. Around this time I was also fortunate enough to meet Barney Rosset (twice!) and hold his Hedada Award (which was extremely heavy).

From my internet scrounging, Young appeared to be a part of a vibrant West Coast publishing scene that included City Lights and John Martin's Black Sparrow Press. Black Sparrow, to me, felt like a working-man's Grove Press. While the two don't necessarily feel comparable other than that to my impressionable mind, they were two of the vital independent presses of the mid-century that truly pushed literary culture forward. But where Grove seemed attracted to the spectacle of the obscenity trials and the opportunity to publish work that intentionally frayed nerves, Black Sparrow seemed to embody a more hard-nosed literary idealism.

I mailed John Martin a letter and he sent me an email in response. He was very encouraging, and said:

"There really is no sure-fire 'formula' for first establishing a publishing company and then making it successful. But you have to be smart enough and lucky enough to attract and choose authors whose books will actually sell. (Publishing only your friends or yourself will lead to disappointment.) Then there's the matter of sufficient capital. I started Black Sparrow in 1966 with a cushion of ca. $30K which both kept me in groceries for 2-3 years and also paid off the cost of the books as I published them. I also kept my day job. And by the time that money was gone Black Sparrow had begun to turn a tiny profit. Not to scare you off, but to start Black Sparrow again in 2007, and to publish the kind of literary books I was interested in, I think I'd need a cushion of at least $300,000 to pull it off. ($300,000 in today's money just about equals $30K in 1966 money.) At the same time hard work can overcome almost any obstacle and I wish you all the best!"

Martin had sold his collection of rare first-editions in order to strum up that initial $30K.

Over the past couple months I've been exchanging emails with Martin, with the intentions of interviewing him. I'm not certain it will pan out, thanks largely to scheduling and finding the time, but I did scribble down a number of questions that I would have liked to ask the man:

What was the atmosphere of the time like in the ‘60s when you decided to start publishing?

Was there some kind of specific impetus you can pinpoint?

Was it hard for you to part with the copies of your rare first-edition books?

Did you feel as though you were part of a community in Santa Barbara?

Your books have a very particular, intentional aesthetic – what was your inspiration?

I read in a previous interview you gave that a press from the ‘20s, Black Sun, was your guiding light so to speak – can you tell me about your attraction?

What was it that drew you to Bukowski initially?

You offered him a monthly advance to publish with you, which was part of your monthly salary at an office supply company?

Your meeting with Bukowski has been romanticized throughout the years – who were some of the other authors that you published who made an impression on you? Or make for a good story?

Thanks to your particular taste and publishing choices, you were envisioned as a champion of the undercurrent, the counterculture. What were a couple of books that you published that you feel exemplify this reputation, that you think maybe if you hadn’t taken them on they may not have been published?

Noel Young printed some of your books, as well as ran his own press. I’ve heard he was a character. What was your relationship like with him?

Did you have any relationship with Lawrence Ferlinghetti or Barney Rosset?

What was your reception like among New York City’s literary elite?

You’re well known for bringing the work of Paul Bowles back into print, and your correspondence is archived at the University of Delaware. What was your relationship like with him?

I’ve heard people say really complimentary things about Jane Bowles’ novel, Two Serious Ladies, which I see is now published by Ecco – was this one of those books you sold the rights to Ecco?

Were there any other authors whose work you tried to bring back into print but couldn’t for one reason or another, or someone else beat you to the punch?

Who were some of the contemporary presses who you considered allies or peers who may have drifted into obscurity now or ceased publishing altogether?

You operated through a period of encroachment from box stores on neighborhood bookstores – nowadays, these box stores are the ones struggling, with Barnes & Noble executives anticipating half of their mega-stores closing in the next year or so. What’s your take?

What do you make of all the fuss being made about e-readers and print-on-demand book machines? And of software like the “Vook”?

The last two years, the writer who has won the Nobel Prize has been published in the U.S. solely through university or independent presses before receiving the award – is this a recent trend? Does it surprise you?

Are there any contemporary writers you would have liked to publish?

A friend who is a publisher mentioned to me that he doesn’t read as many actual books as he used to, which is something I’ve begun to notice as well. Did you have a similar experience? Did you ever feel that you were missing out on contemporary literature, especially in the late ‘60s or ‘70s when there seemed to be a period of greater experimentation or risk in publishing?

5 For $45

This week, our special offer is any 5 TDR-published titles for just $45.
[Offer available through 3/15.]

Gazelles Talk Like Girls, BTW

Kieran O'Hare used to draw a strip called Unnihilistic when Noise was an ill-formed editorial-type thang, before it morphed into the blog you behold today.

He's a pretty great artist. He started his own blog, and has a trailer for his new short film, called 80 Billion Guys, screening as part of the FilmShop's show tonight at the Music Hall of Williamsburg.

Here's the trailer:

And a short called Three Tigers and Another Tiger:

Henry Miller: Asleep + Awake

Unlike most email bulletins, I consistently look forward to opening the one sent from Arthur Magazine. There's never any shortage of relevent and amusing content.

From the latest bulletin there are new reviews from Byron Cooley and Thurston Moore, quality music recommendations for beach-fire singalongs, and the following documentary of Henry Miller giving a tour of his bathroom:

HELP: We Need a Name!

We're putting together a music concert and social to take place in May that will benefit literacy, specifically Girls Write Now, a truly worthwhile organization servicing teenage girls in New York City. We need help coming up with a name for the event!!!

In the past, we've called the show 'Rock for Literacy' (lame) and 'Get Lit' (amusing, but...). So, please, write in with any ideas and suggestions. Ideally, to avoid the mental image of lighters and communal sing-alongs, I'd like to keep the word "benefit" out of the fray.

Pertinent details are being ironed out now, and we hope to have more information on the event - such as a specific date, location, and bands - available by the end of this week.

Also, anyone who may be interested in sponsoring the event can drop an email for more specifics to Brian Obenauf at brian [at] twodollarradio.com.

Why Does Love Sound So Boring?

It very well could be the phase I'm at in life, but I cannot imagine a book summation sounding any less appealing than the lead review for this Sunday's New York Times Book Review:

"In Cathleen Schine's novel, two sophisticated Manhattan sisters, one wildly emotional, one smartly sensible, come to the aid of their beloved aging mother."

The book is The Three Weissmans of Westport, a novel by Cathleen Schine. It is within possibility that the book is amazing. Although it is hard not to imagine that someone was searching for a decent novel about love to coincide with Valentine's day, and I'm wondering: is that necessary?

How Do You Follow Up Tut-Tut, Now Shake Ya Butt?

Japanther's last album, Tut Tut, Now Shake Ya' Butt has pretty much become a mainstay in the Two Dollar Radio radio. Our little girl, Rio, likes to dance around screaming "Tut Tut, Now Shake Ya' Butt." Apparently a new album is out March 2, with another title Rio should go ape for, Rock 'n' Roll Ice Cream.