One of Those Entries Where I Write About a Number of Things

A Creative Endeavor

In a day or two, I’m gonna publish a little story I wrote. It’s never been my intent to turn this into an outlet for my creative pursuits, but it’s been a long time since I have written a story. I’ve alluded to this before, but I used to write quite a lot, and wanted to be “a writer” before I understood what that meant, I guess. But…

What I Have Been Reading

…I have been reading some of Arno Schmidt’s short stories, working my way through his “Collected Stories” (note, not his complete stories, the book contains only stories he thought worthy of preservation) and I found them oddly inspiring. The earliest ones, which Schmidt apparently wrote to attempt to make money, were largely short snippets which came across to me as more miniature studies than actual stories. Interpreting Schmidt is sort of a nightmare, and I’m not gonna engage in it here to any great degree, but I liked the ones I read, and they gave me the inspiration to take a stab at it again. I suspect Schmidt would have approved of this, even if he hated the contents. I don’t know if he would have hated the contents. 

I have also been working my way through Don DeLillo’s “Underworld”— this was recommended me to a friend when I told them I have never read any DeLillo. They said something like “I dunno, you like doorstops. Start with that one.” Someone else I know told me they would have told me to start with “White Noise”, but it’s too late, I’m around about 75% done. I like it, mostly; DeLillo is a superior craftsman, and most of my complaints revolved around him naming a character “Klara Sax”, which late in the novel, was actually explained in a way that made me feel like an absolute idiot for questioning the name in the first place, so I’m going to shut up about my other nits and enjoy the ride. 

I greatly enjoyed William Gay’s “I Hate to See that Evening Sun Go Down”, a collection of short stories, most of them about people at transitional points in their lives. Gay’s writing is clear and crisp, and he captures a lot of emotion. He too, was a recommendation from someone who seems to understand what I like; I read most of this while sitting on a beach in Isla Mujeres, Mexico, which was quite a study in contrasts. But well worth the time spent with it. 

Deathstodon

Mastodonbooks, which I have been using as a replacement for twitter, is closing down. I’ve moved my account over to Mastodon social, and if you’re interested in following me there, please feel free to do so. I’ve migrated my reading list over that way, and you will find me here: https://mastodon.social/@thelithole . I also maintain an updated account on “The Storygraph”, which is the hipster replacement for Goodreads, much more useable than Goodreads, etc. You will find me here: https://app.thestorygraph.com/profile/toddbert

Lumley

Brian Lumley, who is sort of the spirit animal of this blog, died a little bit ago. I was going to write a full entry about him, but I only came up with this:

Brian Lumley, author of the Necroscope books, which have periodically captured this interest of this blog, died a little bit ago. I’ve seen a little random chatter on the internet about him, and have contributed to it a little based on what I know. Lumley was a writer who made his career in a specific time and place; he wrote books which entertained a lot of horny fifteen year old boys, who now have a lot more entertainment options than they did then. For someone like that, “the craft of writing” is almost missing the point. He turned his series into a mini-industry, wrote sixty books, and appeared, at least from the outside, to have a blast doing it.

Sail on, Mr. Lumley. 

His death almost prompted me to read the third book in the Necroscope series, as both books made excellent grist for the blog mill, but I read a James Bond novel instead. There’s a skull crackingly thick biography of Ian Fleming coming out soon, which reminds me…

Brautigan

I read Ianthe Brautiagn-Swensen (she’s credited as Ianthe Brautigan for the book)’s “You Can’t Catch Death” and enjoyed it greatly. I had read William Hjorstberg’s definitive “Jubilee Hitchhiker” a few years back, and “You Can’t Catch Death” is a nice companion to it. Hjorstberg goes *deep* in his book, and no detail is spared— but it’s ultimately a sad portrait of a man who’s multiple demons caught up with him. Ianthe Brautigan doesn’t spare us some of those details, but she also has a chance add more dimension to him. She also reflects of the effect suicide has on a family, and the book is part memoir, part biography, and even part travelogue, as she goes and meets her grandmother, who her father only spoke about rarely. It’s a lovely little book, despite the bleakness of the subject matter, and if you’ve read some of Brautigan’s work and want to know a little more about the mind that created it, this is a fine way to do so. 

Enough

Ok, that’s more than I actually intended to write. The story I have written is tentatively titled “A Walk” and I’ll throw it up here in a day or two.