Read Stories, Buy Books, or Find Out About Upcoming Readings.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Real Quick Local Note
My novel, Landscape with Fragmented Figures, and my full-length poetry collection are for sale at the Court Street Gallery in Saginaw. It's in Old Town, folks . . . one of the coolest places in Saginaw. Support me and a local business by buying one of my books (or a book from someone else) from the Court Street Gallery.
I just finished reading Dostoevsky's Notes from the Underground. I read it first almost twenty years ago, and I had this idea in my head that it was this big, ground-breaking, formative book for me. Having just finished it, I don't see how it could have been. Don't get me wrong...I'm not going to dis the big D. I enjoyed the wildly neurotic main character...too intelligent to "fit" into the machinations of society. Maybe that's what draws young readers to the book...this idea that intelligence and perception are burdens. Young thinkers reject and embrace the world at the same time. That part of the book I can really understand. Still, it wasn't this overwhelming read for me this time...not at nearly forty years old. Was it ever an overwhelming read or, at twenty, did I just feel cool having actually finished a book by Dostoevsky. Hell, I think it's the only manageable book, page-wise, that the guy wrote. I can still remember the six months (or more?) that I lived with The Brothers Karamazov (which I also remember as a great book).
Interesting what memory does with the books we read. In memory, do those books become something else? Well, I mean they have to. They must end up affecting us more in a subconscious way rather than a conscious way. In the end, like with the main character in Notes, maybe reading just makes us miserable...by making us intelligent and perceptive.
I don't know. But, it could be all my reading that triggered the cynicism in the blog post below. Though, I reread it, and I stand by what's written down there.
As to other reading, I just started (and am enjoying) E.L. Doctorow's City of God. I don't know much about Doctorow, other than he wrote Ragtime (which I haven't read), and he gave the great quote: "Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."
In any case, I'm digging City of God. It's a tough read. Lots of thought. Lots of jump in narration and narrative point of view. Still, worth staying with. Doctorow strikes me as a writer, not a creative writer (see my post below). Doctorow is a statesman of letters.
He's dealing with faith issues in the modern world, for Christ's sake! Who does that? The book was published in 2000, so that's pretty darn contemporary for me.
The idea of the importance of a "community of writers" is a myth started by MFA programs to help justify their existence.
Writers should probably work alone without a lot of quasi-friend/hangers-on back-patting them into an unrealistic sense of self importance.
Writers in groups begin to sound like each other, mimicking what works for others ("works" meaning getting published in obscure magazines that nobody reads)
"All writing fails." (That's not me, that's Faulkner)
I mean, if a guy like Faulkner felt like his writing failed, then it seems a little silly for writers to pop into the blogs of fellow writers to tell them how fantastic their work is. It's delusional, really.
Hemingway was in Faulkner's town once. He called Faulkner up and said, "I'm in your town, and I'm drunk." Faulkner said, "Me, too," and then hung up. Hemingway, in his clumsy way, had invited Faulkner to join him in a community. Faulkner made the good choice.
My father once said that there are no statesmen anymore, only politicians.
Playing off that, I'll say that I don't think there are writers anymore, only creative writers. That ain't good. Creative writers seem to behave in many ways like politicians. Really. It's true.
This cynicism will end soon, don't worry. My new book, Threatened Species and Other Stories, comes out soon from Whistling Shade Press. After that, all of my blog posts will be rosy, positive, and sales-oriented. This post will probably be deleted. (at least I'm being honest about all of this)
I've really been admiring what they do over there. Really fun and smart and irreverent articles and updated quite frequently.
The story they recently published, The Aquarium, is quite strong . . . and about much more than simple bestiality with an octopus. (probably got your attention with that one!)
FC seems to be run by some young guys, and the fact that they accepted a story of mine makes me feel kind of young. I found a few more hairs sprouting up in my bald spot, so thanks to The Fiction Circus for that.
A quick thanks to Steve Himmer over at Necessary Fiction for nominating my story "Inside Job" for a Million Writers Award. I admire Steve's selections for the magazine, and a nomination coming from him means a lot.
Looks like many, many stories are nominated, but online editors are only able to nominate three stories from what they published the year before . . . so this feels like a nice pat on the back from Steve.
I had a flash fiction piece published over at Word Riot. Editor, Jackie Corley, asked me to send an Mp3 of me reading the story. I did her one better. I had my wife read the story (since it's told from a woman's point of view), and I only came in when the male character spoke. I think our recording turned out pretty good.
I was thinking about a story today and how different (and better) the story turned out thanks to Miracle Jones over at The Fiction Circus. Thinking of it made me think of a few of the editors who got their hands in there and made my work better. So, I thought it appropriate to thank those editors. Let's see . . . there's Larry Smith at Bottom Dog Press (helping me edit two novels), Robert Bixby at March Street Press ( who helped me cut entire chapters from Into the Desperate Country), Joel Van Valin at Whistling Shade Press, and Tim Green at Rattle magazine.
Of course, I can't forget Josh Maday and Matt Bell. They were never editors for me at a press or magazine, but they were my writing buddies for a time. We had some great evenings in my backyard over in Bay City...talking about writing, talking about reading, drinking, eating steaks. I didn't want some of those nights to ever end...and some nights they nearly didn't. We were each in our own way discovering ourselves as writers...and as supporters and critics of each other's work. I learned a lot from those times, and some of the stories of which I'm most proud ("Smolder" and "The Neighborhood Division") came from those times.
The three of us aren't nearly as close as we used to be (disconnected and not trying would be a good way to describe it)...and probably we won't ever be again. That's how things often shake out in this transient world in which we live. Still, tonight, when I pour a glass of red, I'm going to toast Josh and Matt. Thanks, guys for really good memories...and for pushing me to grow as a writer.
Jeff Vande Zande lives in Michigan's Lower Peninsula, in Midland with his wife, son, and daughter, where he teaches at Delta College.
His poetry and short stories have appeared in over fifty small press magazines and journals, including College English, Passages North, Rattle, Adirondack Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, and Fugue. Two of his poems were nominated for the 1999 Pushcart Prize, and poet Jim Daniels nominated his work for a 2003 Pushcart.
In June of 2001, March Street Press released his chapbook of poems entitled Transient. In 2002, Partisan Press released his Last Name First, First Name Last. March of 2003 saw the release of his chapbook of poems, Tornado Warning (March Street Press). And, in 2004, Bottom Dog Press released a full-length collection of his short stories. March Street Press also released a chapbook of three of his stories entitled The Bridge. All three stories take place around Michigan's Mackinac Bridge.
