KANT: A Revolution in Thinking by Marcus Willaschek

My review of Kant: A Revolution in Thinking by Marcus Willaschek, a half-explanation/half-biography of the german philosopher Immanuel Kant. Translation by Peter Lewis. Up now at SPLICE TODAY.

 

Baby Driver by Jan Kerouac

My review of Jan Kerouac's memoir, Baby Driver, now up at Splice Today . Recently re-issued on New York Review Books.

"I might have been more responsible, less happy."

 

 

Follow The Science by Sharyl Attkisson

My review of Sharyl Atkisson's Follow The Science: How Big Pharma Misleads, Obscures, and Prevails. Atkisson worked for CBS for decades, and NPR, she was as mainstream journalism as you can get. This is in what she found out about Big Pharma's influence on the media and our government, and about how they tried to block her stories. Up now at SPLICE TODAY:

 

  

Girl on Girl by Emily Costa

My book review of Emily Costa's short story collection, Girl on Girl, published by Rejection Letters Press, now up at Splice Today!

A Voice Crying Out in the Wilderness: The Novels of Gabrielle Filteau-Chiba

 

My long-form book review "A Voice Crying Out in the Wilderness: The Novels of Gabrielle Filteau-Chiba" is now out in the new DENVER QUARTERLY Vol 58, No. 4, 2024. It's a print journal, and not clear how to order a copy except through their website:

https://liberalarts.du.edu/.../journals.../denver-quarterly

 

 

Desert Cabal by Amy Irvine

This book review appeared in the literary journal DEEP WILD in Summer 2020. You can order that issue here.

Desert Cabal

by Amy Irvine

Torrey House Press 2018

ISBN: 978-1-937226-97-8

If there is a patron saint of backcountry enthusiasts, it is Edward Abbey. And if there is a book that has ruffled the feathers of Abbey fans recently (especially men, and especially men who haven't read the book) it's Amy Irvine's Desert Cabal. It's a short, fast, informal, read—perfect, say, for carrying with you into the backcountry, which is where her imaginary conversation with the ghost of Ed Abbey framing the book takes place. Mostly this talk takes place around his most iconic book, Desert Solitaire, though also Abbey in general, all his contradictions and hypocrisies and grumpiness. Desert Cabal is not an attack, but Irvine asks important questions, not just for Abbey but for all of us lovers of wilderness, though she is definitely claiming a place at the table, as an equal, and genuinely wanting to understand a man and writer who meant so much to her.

Each chapter focuses on some aspect of Abbey's thought, with Irvine's commiserations—we get her experiences in, and thoughts about, the backcountry too. And Irvine may prove to be a little prickly to some readers, just like Abbey—she's no fan of Republicans or Democrats, no fan of upper-middle class environmental activists who look down on the working poor while driving SUVs, and she at least has some grudging respect for the occupiers of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge for standing up to the federal government. And she carries a Glock.

Of course, Abbey can't answer back, and Irvine does make some suppositions about how he might react to what has been happening recently, most of which I agree with. The one big one I question is thinking that he in fact might be in favor of Trump's border wall. As evidence, she invokes Abbey's (in)famous quote about sending mexican immigrants back from the border with a rifle and a box of ammunition (which I have always thought is misunderstood by most). My thought is that Abbey would have hated the wall, not because of the humans its supposed to (symbolically, at least) keep out, but because of the wild spaces it divides. Because of the jaguars and wolves and pumas.

The biggest question Irvine has for Abbey, and the biggest revelation of the book, is why Abbey took out references to his wife and children from Desert Solitaire. Irvine has access to the original typed manuscript, and sees first-hand the sentences mentioning them crossed out. As a writer, it's clear she understands the conceit, or concept, of the solitude of Desert Solitaire, the Romantic (with a capital R) experience of the writer/speaker in and against and with Nature (also with a capital). But as a woman, and a mother, she can't help but take that (not just omission, but a) crossing out personally.

We'll never know if by keeping his family in Desert Solitaire whether it would have been the bestseller it was (and still is). My guess? Yes. It certainly would have been different. With the inclusion of those few sentences, the entire vision would have been changed. Which is Irvine's point. She sees a missed opportunity, which women would have seen—saw—automatically: "Solitude, for women, is a different animal entirely." And, a little later: "we [women] seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it's the way of wilderness—in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence." In other words, what if we'd had a bestselling book that shaped decades of activists and nature lovers which advocated for solidarity instead of a leftover sense of American rugged individualism?

Again, Irvine still values Edward Abbey as a huge, good, influence. I was happy to read that in fact, like me, the book of his that really meant the most to her is his novel The Monkey Wrench Gang, for its spirit of activism. It was there she learned that she "could resist authority...on behalf of...these beloved public lands!"

Which brings us to the 'Cabal' of the title. Irvine prefers the french, and female, version, la cabale, but which in either case is the (perhaps conspiratorial, perhaps witchcrafty) group of us, all, who love the wilderness but also want to save it from our governments (local and federal) and tourists and maybe from ourselves. Her invocation (her 'calling in') to us is the reverse of the famous Abbey proclamation to his readers not to get bogged down in the activist part of life, but to "Get out!" and enjoy the wild. Irvine does not deny that at all, but suggest to us (and Abbey's ghost) that, decades later, maybe it's time to 'Come back!':

"So I say to you, go solo, into the desert. Yes, do this and love every minute. But then come back. Come back to the cabale that has joined together, to save what we know and love."

FERAL by Gabrielle Filteau-Chiba

My review of Gabrielle Filteau-Chiba's forest thriller FERAL now up at Reckon Review!

 

Heaven in Disorder by Slavoj Žižek

My review of Slavoj Žižek's latest book, of shorter essays, Heaven In Disorder, now up at SPLICE TODAY:

 

 

Xstabeth by David Keenan

My review of David Keenan's experimental novel Xstabeth, now up at SPLICE TODAY, and on my birthday!

 

 

Tides by Sara Freeman

My review of Sara Freeman's novel Tides, out in January, now up at SPLICE TODAY:

 

 

Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz

 My review of Natalie Diaz's book Postcolonial Love Poem now up at SPLICE TODAY!

Bright Green Lies review

My review of the book Bright Green Lies by Derrick Jensen et alia—about how the mainstream environmental movement is lying to us about solutions—now up a SPLICE TODAY.

 

 

Hashtag Good Guy With A Gun by Jeff Chon

My review of Jeff Chon's novel Hashtag Good Guy With A Gun from Sagging Meniscus Press, now up at Splice Today!

Book review of Kim Addonizio's Now We're Getting Somewhere

 My review of Kim Addonizio's Now We're Getting Somewhere now up at SPLICE TODAY!

Social Poetics by Mark Novak—book review

My book review of Mark Novak's Social Poetics, titled "Workers Don't Go To Workshops," now up at SPLICE TODAY.

The Management of Savagery by Max Blumenthal

Now up at SPLICE TODAY, "Blind Liberation,"  my book review of Max Blumenthal's The Management of Savagery, in which he details how U.S. foreign policy under both Republicans and Democrats led to the rise of Trump:

Lima :: Limón by Natalie Scenters-Zapico: a review

My review of Lima :: Limón by Natalie Scenters-Zapico, from Copper Canyon Press, now up at the Poetry Northwest website!

https://www.poetrynw.org/sugar-lime-salt/

Desert Cabal by Amy Irvine

This review will appear in the 2020 issue of Deep Wild: Writing from the Backcountry. Order here!

Desert Cabal

by Amy Irvine

Torrey House Press 2018

ISBN: 978-1-937226-97-8

If there is a patron saint of backcountry enthusiasts, it is Edward Abbey. And if there is a book that has ruffled the feathers of Abbey fans recently (especially men, and especially men who haven't read the book) it's Amy Irvine's Desert Cabal. It's a short, fast, informal, read—perfect, say, for carrying with you into the backcountry, which is where her imaginary conversation with the ghost of Ed Abbey framing the book takes place. Mostly this talk takes place around his most iconic book, Desert Solitaire, though also Abbey in general, all his contradictions and hypocrisies and grumpiness. Desert Cabal is not an attack, but Irvine asks important questions, not just for Abbey but for all of us lovers of wilderness, though she is definitely claiming a place at the table, as an equal, and genuinely wanting to understand a man and writer who meant so much to her.

Each chapter focuses on some aspect of Abbey's thought, with Irvine's commiserations—we get her experiences in, and thoughts about, the backcountry too. And Irvine may prove to be a little prickly to some readers, just like Abbey—she's no fan of Republicans or Democrats, no fan of upper-middle class environmental activists who look down on the working poor while driving SUVs, and she at least has some grudging respect for the occupiers of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge for standing up to the federal government. And she carries a Glock.

Of course, Abbey can't answer back, and Irvine does make some suppositions about how he might react to what has been happening recently, most of which I agree with. The one big one I question is thinking that he in fact might be in favor of Trump's border wall. As evidence, she invokes Abbey's (in)famous quote about sending mexican immigrants back from the border with a rifle and a box of ammunition (which I have always thought is misunderstood by most). My thought is that Abbey would have hated the wall, not because of the humans its supposed to (symbolically, at least) keep out, but because of the wild spaces it divides. Because of the jaguars and wolves and pumas.

The biggest question Irvine has for Abbey, and the biggest revelation of the book, is why Abbey took out references to his wife and children from Desert Solitaire. Irvine has access to the original typed manuscript, and sees first-hand the sentences mentioning them crossed out. As a writer, it's clear she understands the conceit, or concept, of the solitude of Desert Solitaire, the Romantic (with a capital R) experience of the writer/speaker in and against and with Nature (also with a capital). But as a woman, and a mother, she can't help but take that (not just omission, but a) crossing out personally.

We'll never know if by keeping his family in Desert Solitaire whether it would have been the bestseller it was (and still is). My guess? Yes. It certainly would have been different. With the inclusion of those few sentences, the entire vision would have been changed. Which is Irvine's point. She sees a missed opportunity, which women would have seen—saw—automatically: "Solitude, for women, is a different animal entirely." And, a little later: "we [women] seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it's the way of wilderness—in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence." In other words, what if we'd had a bestselling book that shaped decades of activists and nature lovers which advocated for solidarity instead of a leftover sense of American rugged individualism?

Again, Irvine still values Edward Abbey as a huge, good, influence. I was happy to read that in fact, like me, the book of his that really meant the most to her is his novel The Monkey Wrench Gang, for its spirit of activism. It was there she learned that she "could resist authority...on behalf of...these beloved public lands!"

Which brings us to the 'Cabal' of the title. Irvine prefers the french, and female, version, la cabale, but which in either case is the (perhaps conspiratorial, perhaps witchcrafty) group of us, all, who love the wilderness but also want to save it from our governments (local and federal) and tourists and maybe from ourselves. Her invocation (her 'calling in') to us is the reverse of the famous Abbey proclamation to his readers not to get bogged down in the activist part of life, but to "Get out!" and enjoy the wild. Irvine does not deny that at all, but suggest to us (and Abbey's ghost) that, decades later, maybe it's time to 'Come back!':

"So I say to you, go solo, into the desert. Yes, do this and love every minute. But then come back. Come back to the cabale that has joined together, to save what we know and love."

Order Deep Wild: Writing from the Backcountry #2, 2020, here!

The West Will Swallow You by Leath Tonino

My book review of Leath Tonino's non-fiction collection, The West Will Swallow You, now up at QUARTERLY WEST.

Problems by Jade Sharma

My review of Problems by Jade Sharma appeared in WORD RIOT (now defunct) August 2016.

Problems

by Jade Sharma

Coffee House Press 2016

ISBN: 978-1-56689-442-5

I decided to read Jade Sharma's Problems because Coffee House Press is selling it as “girl meets Trainspotting,” and Trainspotting was one of my favorite books of the 90s, because it encapsulated the seedy underbelly of the supposedly prosperous 90s for the western world. I was entirely ready to be disappointed with Problems, since that's a lot to live up to. But I'm not, I'm not disappointed at all.

Maya, the narrator of Problems, is mostly unreliable. One page she's telling us (or maybe herself) that she only 'chips': snorts heroin no more than two days in a row, while a few pages later she's telling one of her best friends that she's done it ten days in a row. She's lying to somebody, probably her friend, who herself is a 'successful' magazine editor also with a heroin/crack/whatever addiction: Maya’s friend  needs the drugs to get through her job, and needs the job to buy the drugs. Thus is Sharma's critique of hipster life in New York (and maybe the rest of the country, or world).

The most radical fact about Maya, even more than her snorting heroin, is that she's an Indian-American, as in from the Indian subcontinent, snorting heroin. Or, half-Indian, but just like with Barack Obama, in America, if you're half/mixed, then you're considered, even by yourself seemingly, as belonging to the darker half. In any case, Maya dispenses with her Indian-ness fairly quickly, or wants to, and for most of the book describes herself as “brown,” making her(self) a member of the 'ambiguously brown' minority-majority that can include native-americans, latinos/hispanics, middle-easterners, mediterranean-ers, anyone not 'white' or dark.

Maya's family works hard to achieve and maintain the safe and respectable facade of middle- to upper-middle-class-ness, a fantasy of prosperity, tradition, order, and economic improvement. But Problems shatters this fantasy. Sharma is not interested in niceness or pleasant representations of the Indian-American experience. Instead she tells us the story of a young woman living single, fucking white guys, using hardcore internet porn vocabulary, and snorting heroin. It is a story not everyone will be happy with.

Given, Maya is on the surface, on that façade, living a middle-class life: ostensibly going to college, getting a PhD, and in conversation with her mother about apply for college teaching jobs. But the car wreck that we readers are slowing down to look at in Problems is whether all of this is going to fall apart for Maya. One suspects yes. The 'how' is the fascination, with the 'why' kind of secondary, because that's another part of the critique that Sharma is offering: the hipster lifestyle of New York and elsewhere is all just as much a façade as 'regular' middle-class-ness, and not sustainable:

You can't help the truth, the mundane details that frame people's perceptions of who you are, like where you were born, what your father does for a living, how many siblings you have. In our lies we offer the world a presentation of how we would be if we had complete control over our existence. That's why it's so embarrassing to get caught in a lit. It offers a glimpse into how you want to be seen. Those are the things I am insecure about. You take things off the table, clean up your stories, edit out the parts that don't make sense, and think, Now that's better.

What's interesting is that for Maya, drugs are the least of her problems. Whether that's true or not is a question, but Problems could exist as a story without the drugs, in that Maya certainly has other problems, including (but not limited to) body issues, and race issues, and daddy issues, if it were just about these things the book might verge on up into basic chick lit, whereas really it's kind of the anti-chick lit novel, or the novel for all the real women out there who can't afford to just up and head for Italia to eat, drink and pray when some dude breaks up with them.

But it's in the body issue rants or self-critiques that I feel like I'm getting a glimpse behind the curtain at what all women go through, though female readers will probably be like, 'yes, thank you, finally someone finally putting this shit on paper!' Maya feels she can't win, even from the beginning, because she's brown, and white women don't have any problems (which, is absurd, and shows how much she's in denial, because she describes white women she meets in this hipster drug world, and anyone but her can tell they're fucked up too). But I get it when Maya says she hates her big breasts and the fact that she has no ass, and wishes she could move all the weight from her top to her bottom so she could have a nice juicy butt like other women. I get that there surely is some other woman who just as strongly wishes her butt weren't so big, and that her breasts were. You can't win as long as you're playing the game of guessing what men want, of having men (even hipster men) in the position of power to be the Deciders about what looks good in women. Thus, problems.

Having a sympathetic character who is kind of a fucked up and unreliable and a liar and a drug (ab)user is tough to pull off, especially for the length of a novel. Irvine Welsh did it in Trainspotting by having multiple characters, at least half of whom weren't totally dislikable, merely pathetic. Also, he captured the world of the characters, lower-class life in economically poor Scotland of the 90s, which was kind of exotic for someone like me. The hipster drug culture of the now in New York City is also kind of exotic for me, though less so. And, both books are funny. Like this:

You live in New York, and you're so cool. You have an apartment in the East Village, and you call yourself an artist. But after a while, you forget what it was you were so excited about. There is nothing here for you. You feel like a sucker every day paying fourteen bucks for a pack of smokes. You take stock of your resources, and you don't have anything. You call yourself an artist, but you work fifty million hours a week just to sleep in a room where only a bed fits. You go to bars where you can't sit down or hear anyone talk. You're a hipster in New York City. There are a million of you, and it doesn't matter that you believe you're talented, because no one cares and you're only getting older. The thing you didn't realize when you were fourteen and thought Kurt Cobain was God was that not every weirdo with an ironic tee from Urban Outfitters makes it. There are a lot of people in their sixties, toothless, broken, and poor, who have stories of almost making it. At what point do people hear “loser” when you say “artist”?

Problems is a sign of the times: a (dark) satire, a tragedy, and a critique of something bubbling under our supposedly back-to-normal economy, where those that are still nouveau-riche-y middle-class are not that far from a hard fall into crack-whore-dom.

But still, even with Maya's problems, what I like the most is that she's unrepentant, and refuses to see herself as a victim. Her problems are her own, and she's dealing with them, and she won't take your pity. We may not agree on how she's proceeding, or if she's proceeding at all, but she is still smart, and able to laugh at herself. And if she's lying to herself as well, well, don't we all. In this she's like the characters of another favorite author of mine, Kim Addonizio, though Addonizio is stronger and more successful in the short story form. Sharma makes Problems move right along with an almost (but not quite) collage style similar to David Markson, or some Vonnegut (like in Hocus Pocus) and maybe most especially Charles Bukowski.

And so there: I've just compared Jade Sharma to four of my favorite writers of all time. I've been grumbling to my friends lately that I don't seem to like reading fiction, period, anymore, but Sharma gives me hope. I think it's that dark, seedy, satiric novels like Problems just aren't considered marketable by the Big Publishers, gone are the days when Hubert Selby Jr. was a bestseller. And so I can't find any novels like this anymore. And probably the Eat, Pray, Love crowd would not like this book. Though, that said, fans of Cheryl Strayed's Wild might. Thankfully we have indie publishers like Coffee House who will take chances. Although, they're not taking a chance. They have a great book on their hands. and they know it.

[Release date: July 5, 2016]