I just happened upon a bad review of the 2008 Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook w i n g'd by Kyle Simonsen. Personally, I love this book (which I suppose is not surprising since I published it; Blood Pudding Press is my own small press). Indeed, I recently reread it for my own pleasure and liked it just as much as I did more than a year ago. Not so for coldfront reviewer Melinda Wilson. She was very much less than impressed.
The review kind of irked me. At least it was a thoughtful review. I looked at the reviewer's bio--she is the managing editor of coldfront (the reputable and multifaceted poetry book review site where this review was published), seems to be a pretty prolific reviewer who is willing to speak her own truth (and I think that honesty is definitely a good trait in a book reviewer; I don't wish for ass-kissy, back-scratchy, schmoozy book reviewers), and is a published poet herself. All good traits. Still, the review left me with the vibe that she was being a little too quick to dismiss just because the material of this chapbook inhabits a style that annoys her personally. I mean obviously having one's own personal preferences and pet peeves in poetry makes sense, but just because something doesn't mesh with one's own stylistic preferences, does that mean it's weak or bad?
For example, it would seem that this reviewer does not care for artifice or pop culture references and I happen to like that kind of hoopla. She talks about the first poem in the collection and being put off as soon as she hits the Kevin Federline reference. She remarks that KFed was a cliche long ago. Well, I would agree that few people want to see his mug on reality TV these days, but in this case he's in a poem and in a doe's mouth. How is he a cliche in that context? I've never seen him in a doe's mouth in real life. In fact, in real life, I didn't even think that deer were carnivorous or particularly predatory. They're certainly not man-eaters. Yet in the first poem in Kyle Simonsen's collection, we have a deer that is carrying KFed off to some nefarious fate and the speaker of the poem, despite his own mixed feelings, misgivings, and personal disdain for KFed (or what KFed respresents) ultimately saves him anyway. To me, part of what this poem presents is a warped natural landscape infiltrated by media influences, yet at the end humanity rises above--or does it?
To me, this poem and most of the others in Simonsen's collection are a provocative amalgamation of the natural world being encroached upon by more insidious superficial and fictive elements and vice versa. It's a strange fusion of humans and other animals and machines--each of which swap traits at some points and become monstrous in one way or another and encroach upon each other. I think the collection offers some apt commentary on contemporary culture with its confused intersections of reality and fictive media, celebrity idolatry, the steamrolling of corporate rhythms, and an underlying primal longing to get back to a more natural state--but perhaps it's too late; perhaps even that natural state has been corrupted by carnivorous deer and other mutant life forms and giant billboards shedding their skins into the earth like sex-selling snakes.
Of course the landscape of these poems is warped, because they're reflecting a warped landscape. I don't know whether or not KFed is a cliche when it comes to poetry, but I do know that reality TV show culture continues to proliferate and permeate and so I think it is apt that the first poem in this collection makes reference to certain celebrity fixtures, including a rather undesirable reality TV kind of creep and his insidious seep into public consciousness. Are poets just supposed to ignore all the warped stimulus creeping in on us and focus on more serious stuff? I don't think so. What is serious anyway? What is important anyway? Sometimes I like art that reflects the messed up landscape of contempo culture and does so creatively and I think that Simonsen's work fits the bill.
The reviewer also objected to what she perceived as extraneous cleverness in the collection. I don't consider myself a fan of clever either, but maybe we have differing definitions of cleverness. To me, cleverness is kind of like soul-less crossword puzzle wordplay, whereas I find Simonsen's work to be both uniquely visceral and emotionally resonant in its own way. The reviewer read the author bio first and was immediately put off by Simonsen's reference to tentacles. Maybe she thought it was gimmicky. Maybe she likes more serious author bios. She was also put off by the Table of Contents, which she initially read as a nonsensical poem. No, that was just the Table of Contents with a title other than Table of Contents. I like to use alternative titles for Tables of Contents because I think the phrase Table of Contents is boring. Is a fellow poet really so confused by re-naming? I think it's a creative little flourish; she probably thinks it's a bell or whistle.
Another part of the review that really bothered me wasn't even about Simonsen's poetic material; it was this remark in regards to my own copy about Blood Pudding Press:
So, I move on to find out a bit more about Blood Pudding Press. “Interests of the press include horrific confection, provocative frisson, and ribbon bindery.” All bells and whistles. This type of overwrought, flamboyant self-presentation takes away from the art and makes a show of itself in its feeble attempt to be different. All I can hope is that a similar “artistry” isn’t involved in the poems.
Call me an insecure narcissist in the grip of a warped and self-absorbed simultaneous superiority/inferiority complex, but this harsh assessment kind of makes me feel like I'm being labeled as a fake artist who has nothing but gimmicks to rely upon. However, I don't think that's the case. I think my description there is just my style. I think it's poetic, connotative, and evocative in my own weird way. But no matter what I think, I have to admit that the phrase 'feeble attempt' stings and hurts my feelings.
Stylistic differences? Maybe. One woman's opinion? Maybe. I certainly appreciate anyone taking the time to carefully read a Blood Pudding Press offering and devise a thoughtful review even if the reviewer's opinion substantially differs from my own. The tone of the review makes me feel a bit dismissed, though. Even the title of the review is 'bells and whistles' and that seems to sum up the reviewer's assessment--that Blood Pudding Press's style of presentation and Kyle Simonsen's poetry revolve around bells and whistles.
But maybe one woman's bells and whistles are another woman's legitimate artistic flourishes. I just peeled off my lime green fishnet knee highs. Were those bells and whistles? Now I'm wearing my lavender vintage stewardess dress. Is that a bell and whistle? Is the fact that I'm writing about what I'm wearing right now a bell and whistle? If I don't meet certain standards of so-called highbrow academic seriousness, am I a bell and whistle? I don't know. Maybe you can read the review for yourself and let me know what you think. Perhaps it will stimulate some interesting dialogue. Or click the second link to find out more about Simonsen's collection and read that for yourself (only ten copies left!). Or click the third link to read more about my take on artifice. Or click the fourth link and read Kyle Simonsen’s own response to the review. Or eat my stockings and puke up green netting and find out if there's a mangled bird inside.
http://reviews.coldfrontmag.com/wingd-by-kyle-simonsen.html
http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=26830539
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1309951/whats_wrong_with_artifice.html?cat=38
http://thecrimsonninja.xanga.com/706654843/on-a-review-of-wingd/
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In other news, dog warts:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1979686/oh_no_not_dog_warts.html?cat=53
Yeah, that's right.
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In other news, some lucky duck happened upon this blog today via the following search terms:
women pecker goats breast porno gallery
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And speaking of reviews...
Review copies of the latest Blood Pudding Press chapbook, At night, the dead: by Lisa Ciccarello are now available via The Chapbook Review.
Review copies of a couple of my own chapbooks--MONDO CRAMPO (dusie kollektiv) and PINK LEOTARD & SHOCK COLLAR are also available.
Check out these and other review copies and do consider writing a chapbook review.
http://thechapbookreview.com/submission-guidelines/available-for-review/
Showing posts with label dog warts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog warts. Show all posts
7/21/09
Tongue Like a Stinger (now with more angst!)
My latest e-chapbook, Tongue Like a Stinger, has just been published by Wheelhouse Press. Please feel free to check it out here:
http://www.wheelhousemagazine.com/chapbook/cook.pdf
It has been published concurrently with two other new e-chapbooks, which I look forward to reading soon--Xenomorphia by Matina Stamatakis & John Moore Williams and Over This Here Rainbow by Lars Palm.
You can read what Wheelhouse editor David Wolach has to say about these chapbooks, the Wheelhouse mission, and other exciting upcoming projects at his blog here:
http://davidwolach.blogspot.com/
A sort of hybrid of older work with new material, my chapbook might appeal to those who find some of my latest poetry a little too visceral or in-your-face for their liking. The 'Tongue Like a Stinger' collection is slightly more subtle; not a lot more subtle, just slightly.
It's about birds and bees and fur and tentacles and implanted debris and tainted femininity and more. It includes my Best of the Net 2007 winning and Pushcart Prize nominated poem, 'Some Explanations for Fainting Goats' and more. I designed the collage art cover with various images inlcuding a photo of a bird skeleton found in somebody's attic, which had to be disposed of after my photography session, because flesh was still clinging to the bones and it stunk.
If you're in the mood for my more in-your-face and oozing, my latest print chapbook, PINK LEOTARD & SHOCK COLLAR is newly available from Spooky Girlfriend Press in a small print run, costs less than a fast food meal, and has already been described as "outrageously pungent" (Adam Fieled, poet & critic):
http://spooky-girlfriend.blogspot.com/2009/07/now-available-pink-leotard-shock-collar.html
***
In other writing/editing news: new flight formation winging its way onto the scene some time tomorrow, dog warts article in progress, revamped DIY feminist poetry publishing article in progress, I have quite a few writing assignments on my platter that I pretty much need to finish up in the next week, plus I need to get started on the next Blood Pudding Press chapbook, egads!
At least I finished a chapbook review yesterday and submitted it to The Chapbook Review.
At least I got a dreaded doctor's appointment out of the way today and a not so dreaded hair cut.
*
Update: Another tidbit of poetic good news--I have received a poetry acceptance from Action, Yes! YAY!!!
Plus, I just realized I now have ten published chapbooks (not counting the one that's out of print)! Five self-published through Blood Pudding Press (inlcuding two collaborations) and five published by other small presses (including two e-chapbooks). WOW!
Plus one more chapbook manuscript in circulation and one more collaboration in progress.
Poetry Poetry Poetry, go go go!
*
Thursday update: I wonder if people think I'm being too self-congratulatory or overly self-promotional when I write up peppy little spiels like the above. Well, right now I'm in the midst of a small wave of discouragement (hopefully, it will pass soon enough and then I might delete this bit, because I don't want my blog to seem too negative or self-defeating). I truly do adore and become excited about poetry projects and I've had a pretty darn grand poetry week or so, with the publication of TWO new chapbooks, an acceptance from one of my highly-coveted wish list mags and more,
BUT...
A small wave of discouragement just came over me. Maybe it was because I found out today that a nifty freelance writing gig I recently applied for did not come my way. It was a writing gig for the Onion News Network. Of course, I'd prefer to write poetry, but poetry doesn't pay the bills, unless you have some kind of academic job, which I don't. Sometimes I get tired of taking consumer surveys online and writing little freelance articles about dog warts in order to make three dollars (not an exaggeration).
'Well, I'm not going to be a writer for the Onion News Network,' I semi-dejectedly informed my husband a little while ago.
'Well, neither am I, ' he replied.
Yeah, but he didn't spend nearly three full days working on the writing application.
I probably spend more time on my writing stuff than many people spend on their full-time jobs, but where has it gotten me? Okay, that's not a fair question. It's gotten me plenty. I've had lots of poems published--I have a book--I've published ten poetry chapbooks in the last three years, which I realized last evening and which seemed sort of impressive at the time--so I guess that must mean I'm doing something right with my poetry.
Yet every month, I struggle to pay my household bills, which is very stressful to say the least.
For thirteen years, I worked for the same company--for the last decade, it was one office job or another, passionless yet tolerable and with a company I didn't dislike. It wasn't a high-paying gig, but it was enough for a non-materialistic sort such as me, plus I had good benefits. This past November, my "position was eliminated due to organizational restructuring". I could go off on a long, bitter tangent about certain suspicions of underhandedness, but I won't.
Instead I will jump to the part about how I've applied for about 80 jobs since then (no exaggeration) and haven't gotten one yet and I don't think it's because my resume is bad or anything like that; I'm not sure what it's because of. I know the economy has been bad, I know the job market is very competitive, blah blah blah. Still, I've applied for about 80 jobs--from full-time to part-time, from well-paying to crappy-paying, ranging from university jobs to medical center jobs to art galleries to libraries to government jobs to office jobs to Call Center jobs to barista jobs and more. And I guess if my unemployment benefits run out, I'll start applying at fast food eateries, convenience marts, and gas stations, too.
So just in case anyone reads my blog and I'm giddily writing about my latest publication credits or poetry chapbooks or whatever and you think to yourself, 'Golly, way to pat yourself on the back about your ten chapbooks, Mrs. Egomaniac', you might want to consider that a big part of the reason for that (in addition to the fact that I really do get genuinely super duper excited about poetry stuff) is because POETRY is one area in my life in which things are going well and I have a lot of small successes and it makes me feel good about myself and happy. Which is not so much the case in certain other areas of my life.
Such as the elusive career area. Am I doing something wrong? Should I be investing less time into my poetry and more time into writing articles about dog warts or something even less appealing to me?
It's just that there's so much to do in the realm of writing. Writing and publishing my own poetry, publishing other's poetry and book reviews (because I like to give back to the poetry community), writing freelance articles, advertising and promoting and designing and brainstorming and organizing and reading...
Indeed, I've already let blogging fall way off; my participation in the blogosphere used to be much more extensive, but something had to give to make way for the consumer surveys and the freelance articles and the time-consuming, ongoing job search activities and the seemingly perpetual following up with people who don't get back to me. By the way, in addition to my resume, I now have a whole computerized folder of different cover letters that can be adapted to fit different job openings. I have an administrative cover letter, an art job cover letter, a library job cover letter, a customer service cover letter, an editor cover letter, and a freelance writer cover letter, among others. Apparently none of them are successful. But at least my poetry is.
Well, successful in most every way except for the bill-paying kind of success, which is probably the kind of success that matters most to a lot of people. In fact, an even more common response to my poetry chapbook pep talk would probably be something like, 'Who CARES if you have ten poetry chapbooks?'
So I was just trying to convince myself that I cared (which I do), since occasionally a wave of discouragement or deflation will overcome me and I'll feel like I'm writing into a void...
It just seems like it would make more sense if I could manage to earn my livelihood via the pursuits that I am truly passionate about, driven towards, committed to, and invest LOTS of genuinely-intended time, effort, and energy into, but alack.
Okay, enough angsty ranting. I'll try to come back later with more peppy promo, related to poetry, the Luna Chicks, and feral ferocity.
http://www.wheelhousemagazine.com/chapbook/cook.pdf
It has been published concurrently with two other new e-chapbooks, which I look forward to reading soon--Xenomorphia by Matina Stamatakis & John Moore Williams and Over This Here Rainbow by Lars Palm.
You can read what Wheelhouse editor David Wolach has to say about these chapbooks, the Wheelhouse mission, and other exciting upcoming projects at his blog here:
http://davidwolach.blogspot.com/
A sort of hybrid of older work with new material, my chapbook might appeal to those who find some of my latest poetry a little too visceral or in-your-face for their liking. The 'Tongue Like a Stinger' collection is slightly more subtle; not a lot more subtle, just slightly.
It's about birds and bees and fur and tentacles and implanted debris and tainted femininity and more. It includes my Best of the Net 2007 winning and Pushcart Prize nominated poem, 'Some Explanations for Fainting Goats' and more. I designed the collage art cover with various images inlcuding a photo of a bird skeleton found in somebody's attic, which had to be disposed of after my photography session, because flesh was still clinging to the bones and it stunk.
If you're in the mood for my more in-your-face and oozing, my latest print chapbook, PINK LEOTARD & SHOCK COLLAR is newly available from Spooky Girlfriend Press in a small print run, costs less than a fast food meal, and has already been described as "outrageously pungent" (Adam Fieled, poet & critic):
http://spooky-girlfriend.blogspot.com/2009/07/now-available-pink-leotard-shock-collar.html
***
In other writing/editing news: new flight formation winging its way onto the scene some time tomorrow, dog warts article in progress, revamped DIY feminist poetry publishing article in progress, I have quite a few writing assignments on my platter that I pretty much need to finish up in the next week, plus I need to get started on the next Blood Pudding Press chapbook, egads!
At least I finished a chapbook review yesterday and submitted it to The Chapbook Review.
At least I got a dreaded doctor's appointment out of the way today and a not so dreaded hair cut.
*
Update: Another tidbit of poetic good news--I have received a poetry acceptance from Action, Yes! YAY!!!
Plus, I just realized I now have ten published chapbooks (not counting the one that's out of print)! Five self-published through Blood Pudding Press (inlcuding two collaborations) and five published by other small presses (including two e-chapbooks). WOW!
Plus one more chapbook manuscript in circulation and one more collaboration in progress.
Poetry Poetry Poetry, go go go!
*
Thursday update: I wonder if people think I'm being too self-congratulatory or overly self-promotional when I write up peppy little spiels like the above. Well, right now I'm in the midst of a small wave of discouragement (hopefully, it will pass soon enough and then I might delete this bit, because I don't want my blog to seem too negative or self-defeating). I truly do adore and become excited about poetry projects and I've had a pretty darn grand poetry week or so, with the publication of TWO new chapbooks, an acceptance from one of my highly-coveted wish list mags and more,
BUT...
A small wave of discouragement just came over me. Maybe it was because I found out today that a nifty freelance writing gig I recently applied for did not come my way. It was a writing gig for the Onion News Network. Of course, I'd prefer to write poetry, but poetry doesn't pay the bills, unless you have some kind of academic job, which I don't. Sometimes I get tired of taking consumer surveys online and writing little freelance articles about dog warts in order to make three dollars (not an exaggeration).
'Well, I'm not going to be a writer for the Onion News Network,' I semi-dejectedly informed my husband a little while ago.
'Well, neither am I, ' he replied.
Yeah, but he didn't spend nearly three full days working on the writing application.
I probably spend more time on my writing stuff than many people spend on their full-time jobs, but where has it gotten me? Okay, that's not a fair question. It's gotten me plenty. I've had lots of poems published--I have a book--I've published ten poetry chapbooks in the last three years, which I realized last evening and which seemed sort of impressive at the time--so I guess that must mean I'm doing something right with my poetry.
Yet every month, I struggle to pay my household bills, which is very stressful to say the least.
For thirteen years, I worked for the same company--for the last decade, it was one office job or another, passionless yet tolerable and with a company I didn't dislike. It wasn't a high-paying gig, but it was enough for a non-materialistic sort such as me, plus I had good benefits. This past November, my "position was eliminated due to organizational restructuring". I could go off on a long, bitter tangent about certain suspicions of underhandedness, but I won't.
Instead I will jump to the part about how I've applied for about 80 jobs since then (no exaggeration) and haven't gotten one yet and I don't think it's because my resume is bad or anything like that; I'm not sure what it's because of. I know the economy has been bad, I know the job market is very competitive, blah blah blah. Still, I've applied for about 80 jobs--from full-time to part-time, from well-paying to crappy-paying, ranging from university jobs to medical center jobs to art galleries to libraries to government jobs to office jobs to Call Center jobs to barista jobs and more. And I guess if my unemployment benefits run out, I'll start applying at fast food eateries, convenience marts, and gas stations, too.
So just in case anyone reads my blog and I'm giddily writing about my latest publication credits or poetry chapbooks or whatever and you think to yourself, 'Golly, way to pat yourself on the back about your ten chapbooks, Mrs. Egomaniac', you might want to consider that a big part of the reason for that (in addition to the fact that I really do get genuinely super duper excited about poetry stuff) is because POETRY is one area in my life in which things are going well and I have a lot of small successes and it makes me feel good about myself and happy. Which is not so much the case in certain other areas of my life.
Such as the elusive career area. Am I doing something wrong? Should I be investing less time into my poetry and more time into writing articles about dog warts or something even less appealing to me?
It's just that there's so much to do in the realm of writing. Writing and publishing my own poetry, publishing other's poetry and book reviews (because I like to give back to the poetry community), writing freelance articles, advertising and promoting and designing and brainstorming and organizing and reading...
Indeed, I've already let blogging fall way off; my participation in the blogosphere used to be much more extensive, but something had to give to make way for the consumer surveys and the freelance articles and the time-consuming, ongoing job search activities and the seemingly perpetual following up with people who don't get back to me. By the way, in addition to my resume, I now have a whole computerized folder of different cover letters that can be adapted to fit different job openings. I have an administrative cover letter, an art job cover letter, a library job cover letter, a customer service cover letter, an editor cover letter, and a freelance writer cover letter, among others. Apparently none of them are successful. But at least my poetry is.
Well, successful in most every way except for the bill-paying kind of success, which is probably the kind of success that matters most to a lot of people. In fact, an even more common response to my poetry chapbook pep talk would probably be something like, 'Who CARES if you have ten poetry chapbooks?'
So I was just trying to convince myself that I cared (which I do), since occasionally a wave of discouragement or deflation will overcome me and I'll feel like I'm writing into a void...
It just seems like it would make more sense if I could manage to earn my livelihood via the pursuits that I am truly passionate about, driven towards, committed to, and invest LOTS of genuinely-intended time, effort, and energy into, but alack.
Okay, enough angsty ranting. I'll try to come back later with more peppy promo, related to poetry, the Luna Chicks, and feral ferocity.
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