All Things Pankish

Literary Los Angeles: Working from Home

I recently read a statistic (from a source I have since misplaced and so can’t cite here) stating that Los Angeles has the highest percentage of freelance, temporary, and contract workers of any city in the country.  While this is a vague and uncited statistic, it fits with my impression of L.A., that work of many kinds here is improvisational, provisional, hard to define and hard to depend on.  Certainly of all the many places I’ve lived, Los Angeles is the one where a restaurant is just as likely to be full on a Tuesday morning as on a Saturday afternoon.

“Don’t you people have jobs?” I often fume to myself as I look for parking at the shopping mall on a weekday afternoon, all the while conceding that I too am a freelancer, and I too run errands at two o’ clock on a Wednesday.

The advantages of freelancing (or rather, of working from home, something not all freelancers do) are many and obvious: no commute, no dress code, no cubicle.  But one of the disadvantages is a lack of community.  Though this always comes out utterly trite at job interviews, it’s true: my favorite thing about all my past jobs has been my coworkers.  I liked talking with them, joking and commiserating with them, gossiping about them after they quit or were fired.  I liked after-work drinks, company Christmas parties, and sad little office birthday cakes.  Coworkers are a sort of second family, if often a dysfunctional one.  Freelancing is lonely.  Most of my “coworkers” are virtual ones, often hundreds or thousands of miles away, in many cases people I have never met face-to-face.

It is for that reason (among others) that I do almost all my work from coffee shops.  Or specifically, from a pool of two or three coffee shops where I am a regular, where I see the same freelancers and their laptops every day, where I check in much as I used to do at the office, to ask how someone else’s script is going, or how their website is shaping up, or whether they’ve heard back from their agent.  Without a real office, these non-traditional workers and I have nonetheless built a community.

The coffee shop that I go to the most often is a Starbucks.  I support local businesses as much as I can, and there are several local coffee shops I love: Intelligentsia in Silver Lake for its outstanding coffee; Swork in Eagle Rock for its friendly vibe and demarcated free-for-all children’s play corral.  But Swork and Intelligentsia are a drive away, and Starbucks is only a very short walk, so Starbucks wins out more often than not.

My local coffee shop and its staff are major parts of my life.  It was the first place I took my new baby outside of the house.  I make everyone who works there fudge for Christmas.  They know my order and have it all written out on the cup before I have to say a word, and they know my husband’s too (though not his name, leaving them to mark our cups rather charmingly as “Summer” and “Summer’s Husband”).  They ask after my daughter Beatrice when she isn’t with me, remember my parents from their frequent visits, and notice when I’ve been out of town.  I’m friends with most of the staff – even Facebook friends with one barista whose son is a little older than my daughter and who dispenses been-there, done-that advice on teething along with my iced lattes.

In the way that vines overrun a concrete wall, the neighborhood has reclaimed the Starbucks, turning what was once a generic chain store into an authentic community hub.  I’ve overheard job interviews, conference calls, and more than once, what sounded like a sales pitch for a pyramid scheme.  There are also families, students, and a group of about a dozen elderly Armenian men who sit on the patio all day playing backgammon.

(One time I arrived at Starbucks on my way out of town shortly after their 5:00am opening time.  “I must be your first customer,” I said to the barista.  “No, they were here waiting for me to open the doors when I get in in the morning,” she said, indicating the backgammon players.)

Like coworkers, my fellow customers are a heterogeneous group that was randomly assigned to me through proximity and it is through proximity that I have come to enjoy seeing them every day.

Now that I am considering moving to a different neighborhood in Los Angeles, I have started feeling sentimental about my local coffee shop.  Of course I’m only planning on moving a few miles away, but Starbucks is sufficiently ubiquitous that there will be maybe a dozen closer venues than the one I currently think of as my office.  Happily, as L.A. is a city of freelance workers building communities on the fly, I’m sure I’ll find another thriving professional coffee shop scene wherever I go.

Breeding and Writing: Awesomely disturbing kids’ books

Because you know you have to know.

There are lots of publishers out there with some nauseating stuff, but we’re not talking about Elmo or (god forbid) Spongebob paperbacks and coloring books.

So sick of those. Ugh.

Anyhow, not them.

No, what we’re discussing today, boys and girls, are some supremely messed up, real-life books for kids. These books exist. They are not photoshopped gags–I checked.

Most are even available on Amazon.

First, I give you Bedtime Stories Gone Awry, featuring such awesome titles as I Wish Daddy Didn’t Drink So Much, The House that Crack Built, and Does God Love Michael’s Two Daddies? for starters.  (And um, no, they boldly predict He doesn’t. Of course. Barf.)

In a similar vein, check out 12 Bizarre Books You Won’t Buy.  It’s hilarious. Personally, I think my favorite title has to be It Hurts When I Poop… though Where Willy Went: The Big Story of a Little Sperm is a close second.

But don’t just take my word for it. (Cue Levar with some bad-ass synthesizer music. Sport that banana-clip, Gordie!)

Check out those two links above, because there is cover art to be seen. Oh, yes there is. Some if it you can’t unsee.

Incidentally, researching for this post has quite inspired me. I mean, if people will buy this crap, what wouldn’t they shell out good money for?

I’m browsing this list for my next bestseller. (Okay, it’s the first. But who’s counting? I’m only joking a little bit. Watch for me soon with a picture book at your local Barnes & Noble.) Sample nuggets from the list include You Were an Accident, Grandpa Gets a Casket, Some Kittens Can Fly!, and How to Become the Dominant Military Power in Your Elementary School.

And if you’re still not quite disgusted/amused enough (you’re not!?), check out Cracked’s version of books that should–but thankfully, don’t–exist. And believe me, they get rough. You’ve been duly warned, you sick puppies, you.

Ask the Author: Johnny Peters

In the June issue, Johnny Peters makes his fiction debut with an elegant story, “Science.” He talks with us about some theories, choreography, Bill Nye the Science Guy and more.

1. When you got the acceptance letter, what was your reaction? Please choreograph your reaction in interpretive dance.
It would have been exactly like Marty’s dance in “The Big Lebowski,” but my wife won’t let me stand on our chairs.

2. What, in the voice’s theory of “Science”, causes the following

-Hurricanes
Are formed in the summer months due to areas of low pressure which build up over waters heated by the yearly migration of the newts which live in the molten center of the earth, who must reduce their body temperatures in the depths of the ocean in order to spawn.

-Unstoppable oil spills
The Wrath of the World Squid

-The Tea Party
Dissatisfaction due to the perceived disconnect of the political intelligentsia from the desire of the citizens’ individual moral agency. Or pancreas weevils.

3. What science superhero would you be (like Iron Man or Captain Planet)?

From a moral standpoint: Professor Arthur Barnhouse. Coolness: Iron Man. It would also be okay to be the naked blue guy from Watchmen. This answer might be cheating. I might be better suited to a science villain. In which case: The Deadly Bulb.

4. Who do you think would win in a fight using only lab equipment as weapons: Mr. Wizard, Bill Nye, or Walter White?

Short answer: Mr. Wizard last man standing.

The initial problem of getting them together would require Dr. Brown from Back to the Future. Or Tralfamadorians might cooperate for educational purposes. The scientists would presumably be pitted against each other at the height of their powers, which involves some speculation as Bill Nye and Walter White are still alive and growing in scientific might. We would also have to arrange some type of inter-reality transport, since Walter White is fictional. We’d have to get Doc by these means, as well. Obviously, Bill Nye and Mr. Wizard would unite against Walter White before their final death match against each other (a science version of Highlander—Ramirez and MacLeod would have fought each other, had it come to that. Same thing with Mr. Wizard and Bill Nye). Mr. Wizard’s victory would be due to his inner calm. While defeating Walter White, he’d be contemplating his inevitable confrontation with Bill Nye, whereas Nye would be entirely focused on defeating White.

If you throw in Beakman, Nye goes down first, White second and then Mr. Wizard. I don’t think you could keep Lester out of the battle, assuming he was brought in from the past or the battleground was located in 1993.

5. Why does Texas hate science in their school textbooks?

This is a difficult question for me. I attended a Catholic school. We learned about evolution, genetics and the causes of earthquakes. We did a dramatic reading of Inherit the Wind. I read a lot of Clarence Darrow’s lines, which involved some incredulous yelling. I’ve never seen the problem between evolution and creation. Something cannot evolve unless it exists. I will come out and say that I think young earth creationism is bonkers. It’s bad theology. It’s reactionary.

It’s important to understand one’s opponent. If one who disagrees can step back, view the Christian God as the Good, then it makes sense that The Bible would trump everything.

I suspect that most of those who reject evolution don’t understand what they’re rejecting. I don’t think they hate science so much as they love their religion (flawed though their understanding of theology may be). This may appear to be the same thing. It may come to the same end.

Books You Should Buy

Click on the covers to buy.

News News Big Big News

Congratulations to Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz who is the recipient of the 2010-2011 ArtsEdge Residency at the Kelly Writer’s House at the University of Pennsylvania. Aptowicz plans to use the ArtsEdge residency to work on a non-fiction book about the life and times of Thomas Dent Mutter, founder of the Philadelphia’s Mutter Museum. This is a well-deserved recognition and we cannot wait to read that book.

There is a massive double issue for the 28th issue of Smokelong Quarterly featuring Jenn Gann, Kyle Hemmings, David LaBounty, Michelle Reale, Laura Ellen Scott, Eugenia Tsutstumi, and last but not ever least, xTx. There also interviews with these writers and you can find links on the front page. David also has work in Four Paper Letters.

Teresa Milbrodt has a fine, fine story up at Guernica.

Tender Buttons, a collaborative work including PANK contributors Amy McDaniel, Reynard Seifert, Eric Beeny, and Desmond Kon, is up at Titular.

At Sleep Snort Fuck, Shannon Peil muses. There’s also a great little thing from Ani Smith.

James Tadd Adcox offers good reasons for biking in Chi-town. Tadd’s The Artificial Mountain was also shortlisted for 2010 DIAGRAM chapbook contest.

The tenth installment of You Must Be This Tall to Ride includes a story by Andrew Roe.

1565 is the year in question for J. Bradley.

Nick Kocz is included in Pedestal 58.

The first chapter of Shane Jones’s The Failure Six is live at Dark Sky. In their weekly interview feature, Ethel Rohan interviews Matthew Salesses.

A new piece of Craigslist fiction by Ben White is up at Staccato Fiction. He also has a story in the Thirsty First Bird Review and you can buy the debut issue of that magazine here.

Five shorts from Gabe Durham are up at Monkeybicycle.

Excerpts from The New Adventures of Harriet The Spy by Jen Michalski is up at This Zine Will Change Your Life.

The debut issue of Rick Magazine (formerly The Mississippi Review Online) includes work from Clay Matthews and Meg Pokrass.

JP Dancing Bear has poetry at Improbable Object as part of a pre-launch for Intersections. Got it? Good.

Are you reading the fine fictions William Walsh is posting to Necessary Fiction?

In the first Funny Women short at The Rumpus, Summer Block shares some e-mail from Lorin Stein.

Bonnie Zobell writes about the Tin House writing workshop.

Foxes, the story not the movie, by CL Bledose at the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.

Robb Todd writes about traveling to Nicaragua for the New York Daily News.

Union Station Magazine features two poems from Ocean Vuong.

Trapeze Magazine interviews Desmond Kon.

Ask the Author: Rachel Adams

Rachel Adams writes of Sex and the American Rabbit in the July issue and talks with us about mythical voyeuristic beasts, Hemingway’s safeword and other curiosities.

1. What mythical beasts would you watch have sex?

Unicorns. The loudest prudes always turn out to be hypocrites, so you can bet behind closed doors they’re pretty kinky. It’s not like promiscuity is contagious, unicorns. Actually, that’s a lie: it’s pretty contagious.

2. What do you think Ernest Hemingway’s safe word was?

Tender Buttons. (He never used it.)

3. Who would be the appropriate celebrity voice over actor to read “Sex And The American Rabbit”?

Definitely Jack Black. He’s got the eyebrows for the job.

4. How did you learn what sex was?

A neighbor kid told me it’s when two adults get naked and roll around in the grass together, which means I’ve only done it correctly two times thus far.

5. Who would play the rabbits in the film adaptation of “Sex And The American Rabbit”?

I have a phobia of anthropomorphized animals, so I can’t even begin to imagine such a thing.

This Modern Writer: A Day as An Extra —An On Set Dispatch From Vallie Lynn Watson

Ed: Vallie Lynn Watson recently edited the fine, fine, Writing, Place and Film issue of Rick Magazine and she was kind enough to write a dispatch about her day as an extra on the set of MY FAVORITE TEENAGE SOAP OPERA SET IN NORTH CAROLINA IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD or as you may refer to it, the one true show to rule them all, One Tree Hill. If you are a fan of the best show in the whole wide world, you will love every juicy moment. If you are not a fan, I am sad for you.

Had to be at a parking garage at 6:30, and they drove me in one of their ever-present long white vans to Clothes Over Bros, a block away. Went in a side/back door and joined about a dozen other people of all ages/races in a small, sort of hot room. We’d end up being in this room off and on for half the day, toiling in folding chairs. Had to fill out tax forms—I hadn’t even thought about getting paid as I of course would’ve done it for free, but I’ll get about $100 for the day.

I was in four scenes (fingers crossed that they’re all used!). The first two were really taxing: I had to walk back and forth in front of Clothes Over Bros. The first of the two was about nine o’clock, and when I rounded the corner on my walk, I almost ran smack into Austin Nichols (Julian), who looks hot as shit with his hair all curly and unkempt. And then Lee Morris/Norris (?), Mouth—or as I like to call him, Minkus—was right behind him. The scene was the two of them exiting COB, and in most of the shots I was walking right past the front door as they exit. Right when we were finishing all this up, Sophia Bush (Brooke) walked up in the clothes she was filming in a couple days before (a tight, lovely gray and black number and weird heels—they have this bulb-like thing at the bottom of the actual heel).

(By the way, if you wanna try to spot me, this is all for the second episode of the season. I am as short as I always was, my long, blonde, curly [probably frizzy] hair was down, and I was wearing an empire-waist turquoise/green patterned dress that may be too boobalicious and probably makes me look pregnant, though I sucked tummy in with all my might. And was wearing too much makeup).

Back to the waiting room for a couple more hours in the folding chairs. Most everyone was nodding off. It was warm, and they didn’t supply us with coffee! They did provide us with weird (leftoverish) food throughout the day, and water.

About noon, more walking in front of COB. I could see inside that Daphne (Brooke’s mom) and Sophia were filming an argument. At the end of the scene, Daphne exits COB. She looks as mean as I expected. I kinda doubt I can be seen in this shot.

Back to the waiting room, and the nice older ladies I’d made friends with at 6:45 started to get on my two-hours-of-night-before-sleep nerves. They thought it was cute to stand in a line and show off their ballet plies (sp?). I kept going to the bathroom (people probably thought I had some drug problem!) because to get there, you had to go through the middle room that is attached to the actual COB store/set (for those who don’t know, this is an actual space, a former business, in downtown Wilmington). I could see all the cloth chairs with names on them (Brooke, Millicent, and Julian’s were in the back corner). I could see the monitors that the directors/producers were watching on. Once on the monitor, I could see Sophia goofing off, making faces right into the camera. Cute. There was always music blaring between takes, probably to keep the energy up.

About 1:30 we were all driven in the vans to lunch (oh, got to walk through the front of COB, the actual “store,” which was cool) two blocks away, in a Hilton conference room. Before we even walked in I could hear Sophia’s throaty voice. She was at a corner table, sitting next to Lisa Goldsomething (Millie). As I was getting my food at the buffet I heard Sophia say something about her and Austin (Julian, her on and off-screen boyfriend) having watched Ghostbusters the night before. I sat down and tried not to stare at their table (she was still wearing her black and gray) but it was hard not to. She’s very loud—her voice carries—and seemed to draw all the attention in the room.

About three, another dozen extras who’d be playing doctors and nurses in the next two scenes invaded our hot folding-chair room. About four, we were all white-vanned over to Cape Fear Community College to film two hospital scenes. This time our holding room was a large lecture classroom, much nicer except the old ladies sat down next to me and drove me batshitcrazy. As I texted my friend Vickie, I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW ALL DETAILS OF ALL THREE OF YOUR DIVORCES, ANNOYING LADY! At one point, oldlady2 said, “I wish I knew how to text so I wouldn’t have to speak.” Really, lady, really?

Different people were chosen for different scenes. About 4:30, I was chosen and went to the “hospital” cafeteria where I immediately heard Sophia, then spotted James (Nathan) who was not sitting in his cloth “Nathan” chair but instead, tucked into a back corner quietly reading. Tried hard to see what book it was, but couldn’t. Sophia, who he recently dated, approached him with her IPad thingy and said, “Can I show you something?” He was polite to her but standoffish.

Then Joy (Haley) came in and the three of them set up for their scene, sitting at a cafeteria table. The conversation was about Brooke’s mom calling the cops on her, and something about Haley being pregnant (I still have not seen the last six episodes of this past season, so I’m not up on what’s going on. Going to wait to get the season 7 DVDs next month and watch the season in its entirety, some weekend with a couple bottles of wine.)

In this scene, I had to walk across the cafeteria, pretty much right behind Nathan&Haley. Of all the scenes I filmed I’d guess this is the one I could most likely be seen in. I’m carrying a turquoise purse.

Back to holding and then about an hour later, me and a goth (is that still the right term?) dude were chosen to film a scene in the “hospital” waiting room. We were sat in some chairs, goth was told to play with his IPhone and I was given a coffee cup of water to be sipping on. As they were setting up, Jackson (Jamie, the darling little kid who’s no longer blond) sat down in the chair next to me and was playing and talking to everyone.

It was six chairs, three on each side, back-to-back. Sophia sat down on the other side; we were back-to-back catty cornered. They filmed a scene where Jackson ran up to her. If this airs, you should be able to see the back of my head and maybe a little bit of my profile; I kept turning my head that way some but didn’t want to be too obvious. At one point, Joe Davolla (director) came over and very quietly—as though trying to convey the mood—suggested Sophia act more longing (something about wanting a baby).

A little more time in the holding room and then at 7, the white vans took us back to the parking garage. I so wanna do this again!

the unfirm line – Peter Schwartz

“Tell me there will be beaches in my future.”

Peter Schwartz, “Tell Me”

There are so many ideas that come to mind with this line. Some linear, some not so much.

- my wife and I will have out beach house one day on the Pacific

- I have never really lost anyone close to me. When it happens, I am sure it will be crushing.

- There is a line from a Radiohead song … “Maybe you’ll be president and know right from wrong.” I tear up when I hear it and think of my kids.

and while we are talking about futures … “My future’s so bright …” but this is horribly dark.

Electric Parade: The iPad and i (three months later…)

It’s been three months since I bought the iPad. For me, that’s plenty of time to fit a new gadget into my life or, rather, realize it’s taking up space, like so many USB cords and cheap earbuds and travel chargers. I give myself props, though. I embraced the iPad with an open mind, even though for the first three weeks, I considered selling it. I enjoyed it, yes, but I came down with buyer’s remorse. Of all the things I truly needed at the time, such as a new external hard drive, a gadget with redundant functions—internet, apps, music, etc.—should’ve remained at the bottom of the list. But those damn Apple Stores. They’re electronic brothels.

When it comes to “light browsing,” that aimless, blog-hopping habit, I’ve all but abandoned my Macbook. Right or wrong, the iPad is perfect for perusing the web while on the couch. That is, of course, until I run across a site that runs Adobe Flash. I will admit my growing frustration with its inability to view some videos, unless the kindly webmaster coded the clip in HTML5. So I’ll either sit at my desk and view it from the laptop or, if I’m being ridiculously lazy, I’ll walk over, wake up my laptop, sit back down and log into the Macbook via remote access on the iPad. Clearly, I won’t be deterred.

And there are times when I think about using the iPad exclusively. With a dock and Bluetooth keyboard, I could make the case for the iPad as laptop replacement. It’s almost there. With a dongle, I could connect the iPad to my monitor and—success!—my life as laptop owner comes to an end. For some, this setup simply won’t do. Can’t say I blame them, because there are reasons why I can’t quite commit to the iPad full time.

For one, I’m no fool. As I write, Apple CEO Steve Jobs sits in his bathroom, swiping away at iPad 2.0, to be released shortly before or after the holidays. I know this because I know Apple. I can’t knock the hustle. Apple gives out a little at a time, an update here, a refresh there, and you’re left with the decision: do I upgrade or not? So when the Turtleneck struts onto the stage and introduces iPad 2.0, featuring a front-facing camera and additional memory, I’ll have to decide. In the meantime, I have to wait for more functionality…

…like a USB port. Right now, my monitor is flanked by two external hard drives (one for Windows, one for OSX). These are my security blankets. I don’t trust “the cloud” enough to beam my files into server farms in California or Virginia. I’m old school. I need local backups. The iPad is still tethered to a full-function computer, specifically to serve its need to sync with iTunes. In other words, the iPad is not a stand-alone device. Maybe Apple never wanted it used as such. Fair enough. However, I can think of someone who does…

…Android, spawn of Google. Or maybe Hewlett Packard and its recently-acquired Palm software. And I guess Microsoft has a shot (so long as it keeps Windows 7 away from any tablet). I’m waiting for the competition. I’m a little surprised that nothing noteworthy has been released by other companies—just a lot of press releases stating their intent to sell a tablet. Vaporware, for lack of a better word. Give me an elegant UI, battery life comparable to the iPad, a USB port (even at the expense of some battery life) and memory card expansion (shame on Apple for keeping this out of their mobile ecosystem) and a decent price point. I might be inclined to hand down my iPad to my fiancee.

So okay, I want to use a tablet full time. But like I said, it’s been three months and apparently, something occurred to make me want to do away with my laptop. Not one thing, but a series of unrelated events: remote desktop access, drafting Pank columns, outlining or “mind-mapping” ideas, zooming through my RSS feeds for more idea generation (or mere entertainment), watching Netflix , and reading e-books. For what I need, a laptop now seems like a nuclear warhead when, in fact, all I require is a pistol. Once upon a time, that was the selling point from computer companies—”you never know when you need more power.” Then netbooks came along and users began to notice the truth: checking Gmail and playing Farmville aren’t tasks in need of an 8 GB RAM behemoth (the latter needs Flash, though).

An aside: as far as e-books are concerned, I’m a convert. Granted, I’ll never do away with my physical books, or my craving to buy and hoard and read more of them, but I get it now. Between Amazon’s Kindle app and Apple’s iBooks, I now see the appeal. Find a book, click one button, purchase is executed, download commences and in one minute, I’m reading Octavia Butler’s last novel, Fledgling, or Zadie Smith’s collection of essays, Changing My Mind.

As for the iPad as a writing instrument, it’s okay. Seriously. I mean, in the absence of a physical keyboard, the touchscreen will help you get the job done. It’s not perfect; as you type, the letters do not appear above your fingertips (users of the iPhone and other devices know what I mean), so it’s easy to misspell a word. Too easy. The predictive dictionary, as you add new words to it, improves over time, but I can’t front: it breaks up the flow of typing far too often. I like the iPad for journal writing (MaxJournal is my app of choice), when I don’t care about form or accuracy—or lucidity, perhaps. I’ve written a few column installments on it and, again, it gets the job done. Aggravating, yes, but effective.

These days, I look forward to taking it on the road. My honeymoon approaches and, as of today, I’m leaving the Macbook behind in favor of the iPad. And why not? Watching movies and listening to music are de facto methods for passing time on an airplane. I no longer have buyer’s remorse—no need, since the money is long gone. I think it’s in a good place inside my writer’s toolkit, perfect for writing while on the go, yet a bit stifling when I’m home, my desk and chair inviting me over for a bit of quality time.

If I had to sum it up, I’m a fan of this new iteration of the tablet computer: mobile and sleek, as opposed to those bogged down by full-sized operating systems. It ain’t perfect. Three months later, I’m waiting for other companies to take their shot. I’m a tablet user, but I’m not a Mac, that’s for damn sure. First one to convince me to sell my Macbook wins.

You can find more from the author at www.mensahdemary.com or on Twitter @mensahdemary.

Rob Sherman’s Valve Works: A Review by Dan Holloway

I read a tweet a few weeks ago that “most people who claim to be at the cutting edge have no idea where the cutting edge even is”, so it’s always interesting to check out things that claim to be new and exciting to see just how original they are.

Philistine Press claims its works are like nothing else. Rob Sherman’s Valve Works is a collection of poems, each one about a part of the body and accompanied by a beautiful woodblock-style steampunky drawing of the part in question by artist Sarah Ogilvie. Given the title, I was expecting the body parts all to be membranes or places of exchange, which they generally are (though the big toe sneaks in as an extremity).  The poems themselves give little sense of being about exchange or permeability, the flow in and out of the body of, well, stuff, whatever that stuff may be. Which is even odder given the introduction that proclaims, like a manifesto of human sensual existence:

We are like chimpanzees struck by lightning, gazing in smoking wonder at our throbbing erections, struggling to hold the words we want in our recessed brains, but, in the end, just wanting to fuck something… to discharge the electricity.

Rabble-rousing stuff, promising a fascinating entry into the body-morphology cannon that includes J G Ballard, Jeanette Winterson, David Cronenberg and no end of contemporary Japanese art and cinema. Not to mention at least two generations of theorists who claim that when we write we are simply recreating our bodies on the page, so that when we write actually about bodies we are holding up all kinds of interesting mirrors to ourselves and the societies of which we are part, carefully dissecting ourselves to reveal how much we are prisoners of our desires.

So I was surprised when I started reading the poems themselves by how playful they were. Playful and rather fun, picking up the cheeky humour at the very end of the introduction rather than the politics of the rest of it.

The poems take the form of addresses (elegies, odes – it’s all very Keatsian) from Sherman to his body parts, in which he outlines the role that each plays in his life through various metaphors and similes. To his heart he says:

You look like a dog’s head, panting, repeating noise

Whilst to his teeth he proclaims

You are a display case of flint tools and iron arrowheads,

A doddery, crooked, Easter Island of relics,

There is no doubting Sherman’s deftness with language nor the tightness of this collection. This is most definitely not a selection of poems thrown together; it is an author looking at the parts that make up himself, one by one, examining each with an identical eye (which sees, as he notes in a wonderfully acute phrase “but all through water”).

And this is how, I can’t help thinking, this collection should have been packaged. It is wistful, nostalgic, intimate, tinged with the deep sadness and realisation of approaching old age. It’s Alan Bennett, it’s Prufrock, it’s Prospero throwing away his books. But it’s NOT Ballard or Cronenberg or Tetsuo. Likewise the artwork is old, it’s drawn like woodcuts from a 19^th century how-to book. Which is another strand of slight confusion. Each poem is surtitled with a quotation from a medical dictionary, making it clear this is in the grand tradition of how-to books and encyclopedias. This is possibly the most interesting (and it’s very interesting) point Sherman has to make – that we love to look outside ourselves for self-knowledge, even when what we’re looking for knowledge of is inside. But it does muddy the waters again as to what Sherman THINKS he is doing.  Which wouldn’t matter if it was clear that he wasn’t actually thinking anything but was simply putting things down on the page and letting us draw our own meaning – but the introduction dispels that.

All in all, Valve Works is a very good collection of poems by a very talented poet, accompanied by exquisite illustrations. But it should be happy to be that, because it is most definitely not at the cutting edge of body writing. Compare it, for example, to Marc Nash’s Feed Tube, with its strung out lines and pools of words simulating the membranes and real and artificial tubes through which a heroin-addicted mother slowly poisons her child.

I have to add that I like what Philistine Press are setting out to do. Bringing writing to the public that the mainstream would not, and doing it for free through ebook technology, is something I believe in completely, and am trying to do with Year Zero. What Philistine possibly need to learn, though, is that there is a wealth of brilliant material out there failed by the mainstream – work like this – but very little of it is cutting edge. But the fact that most of it is not cutting edge is nothing at all to be ashamed of. Much better to package it for what it is.