BOOK REVIEW/ INTERVIEW: William Taylor Jr. AN AGE OF MONSTERS: Fictions, Partial Truths and a Half Remembered Dream. Epic Rites Press, Sherwood Park, Alberta, 2011 (184 pages)

This is Tenderloin resident William Taylor Jr.’s first book of short stories. The collection consists of fifteen stories written from a wide variety of perspectives and subject matter. Taylor writes with extraordinary clarity and quickly draws the reader into his quirky world. The stories are carefully crafted but have a spontaneous, unpredictable feel to them.

The title An Age of Monsters: Fictions, Partial Truths and a Half Remembered Dream is an obvious acknowledgement that this is a work of fiction despite being inspired by Taylor's personal and artistic life. The ‘half remembered dream’ is derived from the story 'My Hemingway Dream’ in which the narrator, presumably Taylor, explains a dream in which he shares a drink with the great writer after a big punch up.

Some of the more interesting stories are the longer narratives which reveal how people react in times of crisis. Taylor is particularly effective at describing conflict, when emotions fray and relationships fuck up. In ‘Tuesday Morning at the Sad Motel’ Taylor contrasts the easy going and existential Ben with the messed up and self indulgent Greta to explore the sadness inherent in their love. In ‘The Legend of Eddie and Lola’ he traces with a wonderful sense of dramatic irony the desperation of a couple’s deluded desire to become famous. ‘The Last Time I saw Greta’ the narrator Ben travels to Hollywood to visit a childhood friend who is living with a lesbian. In all these stories, fuses blow and hell breaks out. Taylor describes this descent from reason in an exhilarating and highly entertaining way. His use of dialogue is sparse but always highly credible in helping to reveal the often hidden, volatile side of people.

Also fascinating are Taylor’s satirical portraits of the small press poetry community as he scathingly relates in ‘Lives of the Poets’ Parts I and II. Poets and publishers alike are depicted as a bunch of pretentious, self interested assholes.  The narrator Jeffery Robbins Jr. reels as the integrity of his work is mutilated through ‘selective editing.’

Taylor’s comfortably moves from first to third person. His male lead characters are usually laid back, passive men who stoically accept the hand dealt them. They are characteristically unemployed in their late 20s, who enjoy sitting around drinking and observing people and who are sketching the lives of the people they meet in their poetry and short stories. The females, on the other hand, are usually represented as irrational, self destructive and largely driven by impulse. They are strong and think they are in control- but  typically have ‘crazed animal eyes’ and who have a tendency of screwing up their daily lives.  

Each story is preceded by a black and white photo by San Francisco photographer Julie Michelle. The photos range from the gritty realism of America’s past to photo-shopped conceptual art. I can’t recall seeing the extensive use of photos in a book of short stories previously so it gives a unique feel to the book.

William Taylor Jr. is a clever, natural born story teller who loves to describe people and relationships, especially when things don’t go according to plan. He writes with great humour and humanity and is unafraid to experiment with form or content. These stories about ordinary people are narrated in a simple, conversational style and express an honest truth which we would most certainly heed if we were predominately rational creatures.

INTERVIEW WITH WILLIAM  TAYLOR  JR: 12 October 2011

Q1: You have been publishing poetry for over fifteen years but you appear to have only published a handful of stories prior to your first collection of short stories An Age of Monsters. The earliest short story I found of yours is ‘The Wallet’ published in Laura Hird’s SHOWCASE in 2005. http://www.laurahird.com/showcase/williamtaylorjr2.html How long have you been writing short stories and when did it click that you could assemble a collection?

A1: I’ve actually been writing stories just as long as I’ve been writing poems, if not longer. I started submitting my poetry first, and had some success with it, so I tended to spend more time on the poems.  I continued to write stories and publish them from time to time, but they come much slower than the poems, and it’s taken me some time to find a consistent voice in my prose.

Q2: You seamlessly appear to move from poetry to prose in your writing. What difficulties have you experienced in the transition between the two mediums? What are some of the fundamental goals you strive for in your prose writing?

 A: I think perhaps because I write so much poetry, I tend to write my stories like I write my poems, line by line, wanting every line to be as perfect as I know how to make it, so the stories can be kind of slow going for me.  I’m not a fast writer.  I try to have a certain rhythm in the language of my stories, as in my poems, so they usually go through a lot of editing.

When I write a story my goal is to do my best to convey whatever “truth” of feeling that came to me when I decided to write it.  It’s important for me for the characters and dialogue be as honest as possible, trying to avoid sacrificing truth for a plot point.

Q3: In researching for this interview some of your favourite prose writers include Brautigan, Bukowski, Salinger and Carver. Can you nominate some others, both past & present, you look up to and why?

 A: Definitely all of those you’ve mentioned.  The others I would have to list would be William Saroyan, Nelson Algren, Luis Ferdinand Celine, Hemingway, and more recently Cormac McCarthy and Roberto Bolano.

This is obviously a varied group, but maybe what links them in my mind is that they’re all great stylists, and plot is often less important than getting across some kind of feeling or truth.  They’re all writers that can blow you away with a perfect sentence or passage, just with the poetry of the language.  I don’t care what a story is about; I can read a novel about a guy sitting in a chair staring at a wall if it’s written in a way that gives me some insight into the human condition.  I guess you could say there a lot of poetry in the prose of these writers, and a lot of dark humor.

Q4: The reference to the title of your book comes from the tragic-comic short story ‘An Age of Monsters.’ The full title of your collection is a long one: An Age of Monsters: Fictions. Partial Truths and a Half Remembered Dream. Can you elaborate on why you chose this title?  

A: In the context of the stories, the Age of Monsters is the age of man; man being a monster of sorts, out of tune with the natural world.  The subtitle just describes the variety of pieces in the collection; some are completely fictional, while others are fairly autobiographical.  And there’s an actual dream I had about Ernest Hemingway.

Q5: The Tenderloin area of SF is similar to other Western dives such as East Vancouver and the King’s Cross area of Sydney which I am more familiar with. Why the continued fascination with the low-life?

A: My writing, both poetry and prose, is strongly influenced by my surroundings.  I currently live on the edge of the Tenderloin neighborhood in San Francisco and so a lot of the stories in the collection are born of the people and places I encounter there.  I don’t really see it as the “low-life”, exactly, more just people existing on the fringes of the society, without a lot of luck or money, getting by as best they can.  It’s just day to day life.

Q6: Can you outline your involvement with Epic Rites Press. How did you first become familiar with the publisher and how were they to deal with in the processes leading up to the publication of An Age of Monsters?

A: Epic Rites had been publishing my poetry in their magazine, Tree Killer Ink, and featuring my work in various projects.  At some point they published the short story An Age of Monsters.  Wolf at Epic Rites really liked the piece, and at some point we decided I had enough stories that worked well together for a collection.  We’ve been working together as far as editing the pieces, and San Francisco photographer Julie Michelle has provided images for the title pages of each story, which really has given the book a unique feel.

Q7: What’s next for you?

A: I’ve got another book of poems in the early stages of being born, and hopefully I’ll be working on a few other projects with Julie Michelle.  I might even consider one day writing something that will make me some money.

Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions.

Thank you!

William Taylor Jr. lives and writes in the Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco. His poems and stories have been widely published in the independent press in publications including Poesy, The Chiron Review and The New York Quarterly.  He is the author of the poetry collections Words for Songs Never Written (Centennial Press 2007) and The Hunger Season (Sunnyoutside, 2009).  An Age of Monsters is his first collection of prose.  His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize

 Buy Taylor’s An Age of Monsters here:

http://www.epicrites.org/an-age-of-monsters.html

Check out William Taylor Jr.’s homepage for information about his books:

http://williamtaylorjr.net/

An interesting interview of Taylor about his poetry can be found here:

http://www.centennialpress.com/interview.html

Charles Bukowski The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship. New York, Ecco, 2002 (144 pages)

Tried to post the following short review of Bukowski's book on Amazon.com today but because of its negative commentary it was rejected so I throw it here:

These diary entries document Bukowski's life between 28 August 1991 and 27 February 1993. They make amply clear Bukowski's take as a 71-72 year-old on such aspects as horse racing, writing, writer's block, his domestic life, fellow writers, fans, how people are assholes and his impending death. His tone is subdued and reflective as he is deeply aware he will soon die and perhaps at any minute. Robert Crumb provides wonderful illustrations to highlight some key quotes in the diary.

The most interesting part of the book that I was unaware of was that Bukowski was approached by a commercial tv station in 1992 to produce a sit-com of his life as an aging writer. He rejected it as it appeared crass and undermined everything he stood for as a writer. Joe Singer's ideas for episode ideas of the show which follow, reveal Bukowski's satirical and perhaps hyperbolic vent on the commercial world, who just don't get his work. No shit:

1. Hank's craving for a lobster dinner is thwarted by animal rights activists.
2. Secretary ruins Hank's chances with a poetry groupie.
3. To honor Hemingway, Hank bangs a broad named Millie whose husband, a jockey, wants to pay Hank to keep banging her. There must be a catch.
4. Hank allows a young male artist to paint his portrait and is painted into a corner into revealing his own homosexual experience.
5. A friend of Hank's wants him to invest in his latest scheme. An industrial use for recycled vomit.

Here are some further suggestions:

6. Hank falls asleep on the lounge and as he wakes, to his horror and surprise, a middle-aged university professor with a big one rams him up the keister in a mad wild gallop.
7. To commemorate Buk's 10th millionth printed word a literary symposium is held in Los Angeles in his honour and is attended by all of his heroes including- Celine, Dostoyevsky, Fante, Hemingway and Mahler, to name a few. They all get sloshed and in a late night celebration accidentally set fire to his remaining manuscripts intended for posthumous publication.
8. Hank takes an unusual break from the track and attends a baseball game. When the cleanup batter is injured Hank is called up to bat. On a 3-2 pitch he hits a game winning home-run much to the jubilation of the crowd- but when he heads for home, he suddenly lurches forward and vomits six half-eaten jumbo hotdogs onto the plate.

I can see it now: Bukowski on HBO.

 

Rather than buy this book it is probably best to save your hard-earned bucks- unless you have an academic or self flaggelatory interest in Bukowski's writing. You are far better to stick to his fictional writing from this period, especially his poetry: The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992) is brilliant. His posthumous collections COME ON IN! (2006) and The Flash of Lightning Behind the Mountain (2004) aren't too far behind. Forget Bone Palace Ballet: New Poems (1997) it is embarrassingly thin and highly self indulgent- even by Bukowski standards.

BOOK REVIEW: Charles Bukowski POST OFFICE. Originally published in 1971

The descriptions of working as a post carrier and clerk in Post Office are intriguing but can sometimes be as repetitive and boring as mail sorting. You enter the world of the mail carrier through Bukowski's alter-ego, Henry Chinaski and discover the idiosyncrasies of his various routes, his fellow workers and the people he delivers to. After three years, he lands a job as a regular postie but resigns shortly afterwards because he is sick of the rules and regulations. He marries Joyce, and following a short interlude in Texas, he returns to L.A. and scores a job as a mail clerk. The work involves sorting mail and it is deadening and exhausting: 'We were working in zoned mail. If a letter read zone 28 you stuck it to hole no. 28. It was simple.' According to the production schedule, Chinaski must 'stick' each two-foot tray of mail containing hundreds of letters in 23 minutes. He is closely watched by supervisors that 'looked at you as if you were a hunk of human shit.' He works 12 hours a night for two weeks straight and then gets four days off- unless he is asked to work overtime.

The novel acts as a sort of prelude to Women (1978) in that away from the post office, Chinaski describes how he frequents the race track and hops into bed with a variety of women. His descriptions of sex are not as explicit but his view of women as 'flank' or 'a piece of ass' typical. He says of Vi: 'She looked all right. Stocky. But good ass, thighs and breasts. A hard tough ride.' He sees women as nurturers who 'like a bit of screaming, a bit of dramatics.' After Fay gives birth to his child, he says matter-of-factly, 'Women were meant to suffer; no wonder they asked for constant declarations of love.' One day he is at the track and sees Mary  Lou for the first time and remarks: 'God or somebody keeps creating women and tossing them out on the streets, and this one's ass is too big and that one's tits are too small, and this one is mad and that one is crazy and that one is a religionist and that one reads tea leaves and this one can't control her farts, and that one has this big nose, and that one has boney legs... But now and then, a woman walks up, full blossum, a woman just bursting out of her dress... a sex creature, a curse, the end of it all.'

After 11 years at the post office, Chinaski suffers from dizzy spells and 'each letter was getting heavier and heavier.' He looks at the depleted men around him and realises the job is killing him: 'They either melted or they got fat, huge, especially around the ass and the belly. It was the stoll and the same motion and the same talk. And there I was, dizzy spells and pains in the arms, neck, chest, everywhere. I slept all day resting up for the job. On weekends I had to drink in order to forget it. I had come in weighing 185 pounds. Now I weighed 223 pounds. All you moved was your right arm.'

After numerous conflicts with management, Chinaski is charged with being absent without leave on 16 occasions, and after taking 28 minutes to throw a 23 minute tray in a time-test, he is counseled by the post office. Shortly afterwards, he finds the only way he can keep from dizzy-spells is 'to get up and take a walk now and then.' He explains to his supervisor Fazzio: 'If I stay on that stool much longer I am going to leap up on top of those tin cases and start running around whispering Dixie from my asshole and Mammy's Little Children Love Shortnin' Bread through the frontal orfice.'

Near the conclusion of the novel, Chinaski understands that he has continued to work because he is trapped by the system: 'I don't know how it happens to people. I had child support, need for something to drink, rent, shoes, socks, all that stuff. Like everyone else I needed an old car, something to eat, all the little intangibles. Like women. Or a day at the track. With everything on the line and no way out, you don't even think about it.' He is fed up with the post office and resigns.After a two week bender, he wakes up and concludes, 'Maybe I'll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.' No mention is made earlier in the novel that Chinaski is a writer and no mention is made of Bukowski's generous benefactor, John Martin, whose financial backing enabled him to leave his post office job in January1970 after eleven and a half years to allow him to write full-time.

According to Barry Miles biography Charles Bukowski (2005) after Bukowski quit his job he was sick with worry and was suicidal for ten days. After being cheered up by some friends who brought along their guitars, he started writing. Each night he would sit at his desk at 6:18 pm- his former post office starting time- with a pint of scotch, two six-packs of beer and some cheap cigars. It took only 20 evenings & nights  to complete the first 120,000 word draft of Post Office. It was eventually pared down to 90,000 words.

Overall, this is a funny, highly entertaining novel. Post Office is a great model for those thinking of writing about their job from a working class perspective. You have to admire the guts and brains of John Martin in 1970 to offer Bukowski $100 a week for life to write what ever he wanted. It eventually made both men very rich. But as the recent City Lights publications of Portions from a Wine-Stained Notebook (2008) and Absence of the Hero (2010) attest, it was a 'no brainer' for Martin- Bukowski was an extremely hard working and fearless advocate of free speech and underground writing in the 1960s and had a huge backstory dating back to 1944 with the publication of his first short story 'Aftermath of a Lengthy Rejection Slip.' He was a sure bet.

Book Review: Glenn W. Cooper SOME NATURAL THINGS. Kamini Press, Stockholm Sweden, 2007 (32 pages)

I was curious to have a look at a Kamini Press publication so got a hold of Glenn W. Cooper’s poetry book Some Natural Things. The book I received was first edition and signed by the author. I was also thrown in a signed copy of Gerald Locklin’s poem ‘Two Torch Singers’. The book is approximately 80 x 55 mm in size, hand made, self assembled and printed on quality Lessebo Linne 100 g paper. The cover features a water colour by Henry Denander, the publisher of Kamini Press.

Cooper’s collection consists of twenty-five short poems which examine rain/ storms as a motif to stir human emotions, thoughts, memories. These are gentle, evocative free verse poems which explore the well trodden themes of failure, the loss of love, discovery, small pleasures, growing old- without the sentiment or bullshit.

This book can be read carefully a couple of times in half an hour. I found that although I enjoyed reading Cooper’s work these poems only just start to wet my appetite. I have followed his work over many years and the Armidale, New South Wales resident is one of a few Australians to consistently publish quality poetry in the international small press. He has written many chapbooks but I would like to read a larger collection of his poetry which does justice to the full body of his work.

Blurbs of Glenn W. Cooper’s book and further info on how you can buy his book can be found at Kamini Press here: http://kaminipress.com/2009/09/20/glenn-w-cooper-some-natural-things/

More on Cooper’s many chapbooks can be found here: http://www.librarything.com/author/cooperglennw

BOOK REVIEW/INTERVIEW: Mather Schneider HE TOOK A CAB NYQ Books, New York, 2011 (108 pages).

This is the second full-length book of poetry published by Tucson taxi driver Mather Schneider. Most of the poems in the collection were inspired by Schneider’s long-term experience as a cab driver. The poems are largely anecdotal narratives written in a simple and understated way. The clarity and immediacy of the language makes you feel like you are sitting in the back seat of Schneider’s cab as he drives his quirky and sometimes demanding and difficult  fares to their destinations- be it a detox center, Whataburger, a nudist camp, or hospital.

As is explained in the preface, the title ‘he took a cab’ is derived from an old jazz saying that means someone has died. The title poem ‘He Took a Cab’ is based on a true story about a cabby who was tragically shot and killed by a passenger who tried to evade paying a fourteen dollar fare.

The daily grind of a cab driver is represented through a variety of voices and credible real life experiences. Schneider chronicles the long hours, the fickleness, the randomness, the messiness, the in-fighting of an essential job which is sometimes fraught with danger. The reader easily slips into Schneider’s world as he drives around Tucson and into the surrounding desert- the shitty drivers, the quirky, unending variety of people he crosses paths with and the thrill and unpredictable flux of the journey- all come alive.

It is Schneider’s descriptions of people and how he often allows them to tell their own stories in their own words which makes this book special and highly entertaining and amusing to read. He cleverly draws portraits of his passengers and fellow cabbies to comment on human nature- both good and bad. He is sometimes scathing in his attack on the viciousness, hypocrisy and racism of some of his fares. In ‘Trust Me’ he drops off a foul and sleazy prison guard who has been cheating on his wife. In ‘Devotee’ he mocks a rude and ungrateful adherent of the Dalai Lama who is in town for a talk. In ‘The Virtues of Self-Locomotion’ he uses black humour to express his hatred of school bus drivers who believe they are superior and ‘immune from street law.’

Schneider can also show great tenderness and empathy for his passengers- especially if they tip well. In ‘6234 N. KOLB’ he drives a man to the airport on his first vacation in 22 years. On the way the passenger gets a phone call telling him his father has had a heart attack. As they head for the hospital there is another call- the father has died. In ‘TREASURE’ his fare Margie introduces him to her pet snail Chuy on their way to the Valley Pet clinic.

Schneider also provides the reader with insights into the crazy characters who drive cabs for a living. Their world is highly competitive and largely thankless. Amongst them there is Filthy Phil, an Vietnam-vet whose latest scheme is to marry a young Russian bride, Darren the Shark, Hobgoblin, and Vic, an eighty-four year old whose idea of fun is to activate his small battery-powered fart machine.

Some of the more memorable poems include extended metaphors and make some interesting philosophical observations about the job. ‘A Bone A Day’ adopts a stoical position: ‘If/ at the end of a twelve-hour day/ you’ve got a bone in your pocket/ you’re doing alright.’ ‘Destiny of a Cab Driver’ Schneider sees himself as being chained to his cab: ‘I have no destination of my own./ I spend my life driving in circles/ and never get any closer/ to the center.’ The wonderful poem ‘Zen Cabby’ is about an impossibly perfect day, when everything miraculously falls into place for the driver. He remarks at the end: ‘The trick is to trust nothing/ but the deepest laws,/ and the only way to trust/ is to let go.’

The poems in He Took a Cab are street-smart and have an emotional depth which is never forced or false. This is finely crafted  poetry which is easy to read  and picture in your head. Most humorous and intriguing are the real people Schneider has met and has shaped through his poetry.

INTERVIEW WITH MATHER SCHNEIDER- 16 OCTOBER 2011

Q1: Most of the poems in your new collection He Took a Cab are about taxi driving from a variety of perspectives. How long have you been driving a cab and can you briefly describe a typical night shift and the emotions you go through? 

A1: I’ve been driving a cab, off and on and for various companies, for 6 years in Tucson and I also drove a cab in a small town in Washington State, Bellingham, years ago. I don’t do night shifts anymore and in fact now drive for a company that only transports non-emergency medical patients to and from the doctor, paid for by the state insurance. So a lot of the poems in the book are about my past experiences. The emotions you go through during a typical 12 hour cab shift run the gamut from elation at a 50 dollar tip, to anger at traffic, to fear from thugs or drunks, to heartbreaking pity for a 12 year old boy with bone cancer and a mask over his face because the very air makes him sick. It’s amazing how tired you are after a cab driving shift, even though you’re just sitting on your ass the whole time.

Q2: I can imagine in driving taxis at all hours that over the years you see some of the worst and best in humanity. What have you learnt about people and about life in general since you’ve been driving hacks? Do any incidents stand out?

A2: I’ve learned that scumbags and saints come in all sizes and from all economic brackets. Many incidents stand out, and I write about those. Just today I went to one of our hospitals to pick up a patient. She was sitting in a wheelchair at the doors of the hospital looking out at the road. Her caregiver, on seeing me coming, turned around for a second to grab the old lady’s bag. At that moment, the old lady in the wheelchair started rolling forward, could not control it, and rolled out the door, across the sidewalk and over the curb into the street. She did a full face plant on the pavement, blood was everywhere and she was screaming like a lunatic. I felt bad for her, and I also felt bad for the caregiver, who would surely lose her job.

Q3: On the inscription page there is note that ‘any references to historical or real locales are used fictionally.’ Most of your poems appear to have been inspired by real people and events. I am curious, was it essentially a legal requirement to fictionalise your experiences?

A3: You know, I never noticed that. Yeah, I guess that’s just a legal thing, I have no idea. I have always been honest about the fact that my material comes from real life, although I do change names and embellish and combine stories in ways that do not conform exactly to reality.

Q4: The epigraph notes that the title of your collection He took a cab is old jazz slang for someone who has died. The title poem ‘He took a cab’ is about a cabby who is shot and killed by a passenger who tried to evade paying a fourteen dollar fare. Why did you choose this title? Have you been in many dangerous situations yourself?

A4: I’ve always liked the title poem and I’ve always liked the title, thought it would make a nice catchy title for the book. Then I discovered that phrase’s usage by the old jazz guys. Like someone might say, “Hey, whatever happened to Leroy?” “Oh, he took a cab, man, he took a cab.” Meaning he died. Yes, I’ve been in some dangerous situations. I’ve had a gun pulled on me, and I’ve been threatened and punched in the face by passengers. But, all in all, I’ve been lucky. I mean, it’s Tucson, after all, not Chicago or Detroit or LA. When that cabby got shot, every cabby I knew was shaking their head, because you just don’t follow someone into an alley, you have to refine your instincts, and really you hope to sniff out the dangerous characters BEFORE they get into your cab. Sometimes you just can’t tell, though.

Q5: Many of the poems in your new collection were previously published in important small press magazines such as Nerve Cowboy, American Dissident, Commonline and others. How long how you been collecting these poems for publication? 

A5: The poems in this book cover about the last 4 or 5 years.

Q6: Can you provide some insights into your writing process? Does your inspiration come quick? Do you need to do much editing, redrafting? What do you hope to achieve in your writing?

A6: I make notes to myself, usually on the backs of our taxi business cards, and then later I write them out if I can find the time or energy. These days I’m lucky to write new stuff once a week, though I’m constantly tinkering with old stuff. I do rewrite quite a bit, which is just a matter of reading a piece over and over, letting it sit, reading it again, mainly trying to tighten and get rid of cliché, try to make the language as clean and fresh as possible. I do not think there is anything particularly saintly or noble about writing, and as far as what I want to achieve with it, well, I would like people to be haunted by my words, to laugh, to be entertained, and maybe to feel something deep inside they didn’t expect.

Q7: It is a great achievement to have a poetry book published by New York Quarterly Foundation. Can you briefly explain the events leading to your collection being published by them?

A7: Thank you. I submitted poems to New York Quarterly, once or twice a year, for 12 years, and was rejected every time with form rejections. Then, one day about 2 years ago, I got an acceptance. Then I submitted more and they took 3 more! Then, Raymond Hammond, the editor, wrote me and said he wanted to publish a book of mine. Working with him on the book was fun and painless, for the most part. He gave me free reign and it is my drawing on the cover. We only got in one fight during the process, which is pretty good for me!

Q8: Have you discovered any new writers over the last couple of years which impress you? If any, what do you enjoy about their writing/ message?

A8: I like Jim Valvis and M.P. Powers. Valvis’s honesty and humility and humor are wonderful, and Powers has a lyrical quality and sense of humor that I like. But, in general I am not impressed with most of the writing I read these days.

Q9: I’ve read many of your short stories about some of your taxi driving adventures. Do you intend collecting these in a volume one day? 

A9: Yes, I do have a manuscript which is held together by the connective thread of cab driving. Some of the stories only mention cab driving in one sentence, others are basically journals of a cab driver. I have had many of them published on the internet but I can’t break into any respectable print journal to save my life. I hope to get the book published one day, and I’m working on it now, revising it. The title of the book is NEXT TIME TAKE SUNRISE, the title story of which was published in Zygote in My Coffee. Here’s the link to that: http://www.zygoteinmycoffee.com/100s/issue134nexttimetake.html

Q10: What’s next for you?

A10: Well, we just bought a house, a foreclosure for 36,000 cash, and my wife and I will be moving soon, so that is exciting, to get out from under the yoke of rent. And I hope to get that book of prose published, like I said. Other than that, just more writing and working and living. 

Thanks again Mather for sharing your views with me and my readers.

Thanks George!

Buy Mather Schneider’s new collection He Took a Cab here at NYQ Books: http://www.nyqbooks.org/title/hetookacab

Find my 2010 review of Schneider’s first collection Drought Resistant Strain on Bold Monkey: http://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/2010/04/drought-resistant-strain-book-review.html

BOOK REVIEW: CHARLES BUKOWSKI DANGLING IN THE TOURNEFORTIA (Black Sparrow Press, Santa Rosa, 1981, 281 pages)

This poetry book is more for the fanatic than the connoisseur of Bukowski’s work. It is sandwiched amongst his fire in the belly writing of Burning in Water, Drowning in Frame (1974), Love Is a Dog from Hell (1977) and his intense and diverse philosophical ruminations found in War All the Time (1984) and The Last Night of the Earth Poems (1992). Dangling in the Tournefortia was published when Bukowski was fifty-nine years old and his reputation was clearly established and growing exponentially.

The collection characteristically explores many of Bukowski’s favourite themes: women, gambling at the racetrack, the writing process, public readings and observations of quirky people. Sometimes you get the impression that he is writing for the hell of it. He meticulously records every event, impression, memory, wild thought- no matter how trivial, inexplicable or random. Too many poems focus on domestic, ordinary experiences such as shopping, going to restaurants, cleaning his room or negotiating with his then partner Linda.

The language in this collection seems comparatively pared down with few literary allusions or concentrated lyrical passages. The tone is typically self-effacive with a hint of cynicism. The poems are often structured to deliver a street-wise sermon at the end. The best poems are the longer narrative poems like ‘Independence Day’, ‘yeah, man?’ and ‘a poetry reading’ which evolve and surprisingly morph into unpredictable territories.

Only a few poems explore Bukowski’s working class roots, such as, ‘blue collar solitude’, ‘sick’ and perhaps one of the best poems in the collection ‘guava tree’. Chinaski, (interestingly only mentioned once in the book) Buk’s alter-ego, knows he has it good. He overlooks the ocean at San Pedro, drives a new model BMW for tax purposes and sleeps with women decades younger than himself.

I suppose that Bukowski was writing so much material at this time and struggling to cope with his rising fame that there is a complacency and lack of urgency in this collection as a whole. A few poems like ‘we evolve’ and the Cold War ‘taking care of the whammy’ attempt to rise above the temporal but most of the poems fall flat and don’t offer much apart from a perverse curiosity. Delay purchasing this book unless you have an academic interest or are a fanatic like me.