{"id":69138,"date":"2020-08-20T00:21:08","date_gmt":"2020-08-20T04:21:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/?p=69138"},"modified":"2020-09-17T19:40:29","modified_gmt":"2020-09-17T23:40:29","slug":"i-arrogantly-recommend-by-tom-bowden-6","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/2020\/08\/20\/i-arrogantly-recommend-by-tom-bowden-6\/","title":{"rendered":"I arrogantly recommend&#8230; by Tom Bowden"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/darkly.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"264\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-69262\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/darkly.jpg 264w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/darkly-99x150.jpg 99w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 264px) 100vw, 264px\" \/><em>Darkly: Black History and America\u2019s Gothic Soul <\/em><br \/>\nby Leila Taylor, Restless Books<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>I quite like the idea of me emerging from my mother\u2019s womb and handing my dad a calling card reading I AM THE NIGHT [\u2018Leila\u2019 in Arabic]. It makes my morbid predilections inevitable, genetic even\u2014a predisposition to horror movies, black nail polish and a preference for the Cure. I was destined to smoke clove cigarettes and write bad poetry under bridges in the rain. I am Darkness.<br \/>\n\u2014Leila Taylor, Darkly<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>The sense of the gothic is one of emotional extreme, usually depressive or horrifying. European gothic, using Matthew Gregory Lewis\u2019s <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781551112275\">The Monk<\/a><\/em> (1796) as my ur-text, replaced the tragic fate and political satire of classical literature with cynicism toward all forms of authority\u2014including and especially the State, Church, and family. In <em>Oedipus Rex<\/em>, for instance, Oedipus is fated to unwittingly kill his father and marry his mother <em>and<\/em> face the consequences for violating societal taboos in doing so, even though he was unaware of the relationship. The gothic version of that story would have Oedipus know from the start who the targets of his desires were, that what he desired was evil and wrong\u2014and do it anyhow, the consequences of which would be worse and rightly earned. In gothic literature, the pillars of society have ossified into delusional hypocrisy or coagulated into wormy corruption.<\/p>\n<p>Leila Taylor\u2019s <em>Darkly: Black History and America\u2019s Gothic Soul<\/em> sets U.S. culture atop a House of Usher-like superstructure of Black oppression, examining slavery, white supremacy, and national trauma as pain and triumph is transformed into music, fashion, literature, and history.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI started this project,\u201d Taylor writes, \u201cwith this intent of researching the Black goth scene and what it was like to be a part of a subculture perceived as being \u2018white,\u2019 how it felt to navigate a world where you are twice marginalized when you are the only one in the room.\u201d Although seemingly premised on examining Black appreciation of Goth music, that premise quickly widens to encompass more: \u201cthe particulars may morph but the foundation is the same; an anachronistic romanticism, theatrical melancholia, nocturnality, campy morbidity, and the color black.\u201d<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_69266\" style=\"width: 160px\" class=\"wp-caption alignleft\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-69266\" class=\"size-thumbnail wp-image-69266\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/RHS-Logo-150x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"150\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/RHS-Logo-150x150.jpg 150w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/RHS-Logo-768x768.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/RHS-Logo.jpg 999w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 150px) 100vw, 150px\" \/><p id=\"caption-attachment-69266\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Logo for Renaissance High School, Detroit<\/p><\/div>\n<p>Taylor\u2019s sense of goth began developing when she lived in Detroit, where she grew up until she was 15. \u201cI remember my first day at Renaissance High School,\u201d she told me in a text exchange, \u201cI saw this guy who looked just like Robert Smith and just fell in love immediately. My scene was pretty limited to my little circle of friends. It was all about Sam&#8217;s Jams record store, getting posters and pins and stuff at Noir Leather in Royal Oak and Smash Hits magazine really. I was aware of the [Detroit goth] scene, but kind of too young to be <em>in<\/em> it. But I did go to concerts\u2014The Cure, The Smiths (I saw them on their Queen is Dead Tour at The Fox Theater), Depeche Mode. There was this music festival that took place every year behind my best friend\u2019s house called <a href=\"https:\/\/dallyinthealley.com\/\">Dally in the Alley<\/a> which was amazing.\u201d She also enjoyed hanging at the DIA, \u201clooking at moody stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThe thing that felt the most gothic [about Detroit] was <a href=\"https:\/\/www.nytimes.com\/2011\/08\/21\/arts\/design\/andrew-moores-photographic-take-on-detroit-decay.html\">the atmosphere<\/a>. I remember there was this old gothic church downtown that I desperately wanted to live in. Then there were all the ruined houses, these burnt down houses, patches of overgrown empty lots. Victorian mansions with all the windows boarded up. I was too young to think about the economic and social reasons for that decay. It just felt kind of spooky and eerie.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThere really isn&#8217;t a codified genre that&#8217;s the equivalent to Southern Gothic for the Midwest or the North,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I do think there are themes of existential dread, of the loss of safety and security that is prevalent in American horror. I&#8217;m thinking about Shirley Jackson and internalized psychological horror. I think the idea of the \u2018monster\u2019 being psychic collective trauma rather than a literal boogieman or vampire is something that is a very modern American kind of gothic. I also think that there are [fears] of colonization, the fears that come with unjust displacement. I&#8217;m thinking of that old trope of the house built over an \u2018Indian burial ground.\u2019 And there is a particular kind of suburban horror we have in the Midwest. Suburbs created out of white flight that aren&#8217;t as safe as we thought they were.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Her ideas and examples made me wonder if, given the Great Migration (1916-1970) from the rural South to the industrial North (i.e., Detroit, where she grew up), Taylor saw elements of specifically Southern Gothic origins in Detroit, and if so, whether the same Southern tropes are used or instead have been translated \/ metamorphosed into something (post) industrial, given that she distinguishes between Southern Gothic and post-Industrial American Gothic (using Detroit as her example).<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAt Renaissance High School, the school mascot was a Phoenix. Kind of can&#8217;t get more goth than that. The Black Gothicity of Detroit is the image of the city (and Black people) rising from the ashes over and over. It always comes back, it never dies. Like Black people there is a resilience to the city. Like that saying \u201cDetroit Hustles Harder.\u201d Well, so do Black people because we have to.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>One of the strong points of Taylor\u2019s book is her effortless blending of the personal with the academic\u2014research, theory, and self-reflection combine in a real, lived consideration of <em>what is<\/em>. Since many people mistakenly think \u201cacademic\u201d means cold and bloodless (when the opposite is almost always the case), I asked Taylor what she would you say to somebody who, though smart and talented, is leery that some passionate part of themselves will be somehow neutered by scholastic training?<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAcademic writing requires a kind of rigor by nature, and a career in academia requires being able to prove that you\u2019ve mastered that kind of writing and the ability to slide your work into the discourse. You have to prove that what you&#8217;re saying is important and that you are the person to say it.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBefore I went back to grad school, I gave a paper at an academic conference as an \u2018independent scholar,\u2019 and after listening to the other talks I realized I didn\u2019t know what the fuck I was doing, so I went back to school to learn.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI read more, I learned more. My ideas got richer and deeper and more complex and I developed the skills needed for this kind of critical thinking. So when I was writing my book, I was able to use what I learned to write the way I wanted to. I never wanted to write for an academic audience. I don&#8217;t want to be in academia. I don&#8217;t want my writing to be only accessible on Jstor or in an $80 journal. And I don&#8217;t like academic writing. It\u2019s alienating, but I wanted to learn the rules so I could break them. Having a little bit of training (for lack of a better word) in theory gave me the foundation to do what I wanted to do.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Taylor\u2019s book is wide-ranging and deep, academic and personal, and highly recommended.<\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"&#039;Darkly&#039; Author Leila Taylor Interview | #NightofPhilosophy at Brooklyn Public Library\" width=\"635\" height=\"357\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/pTYPv42EHIU?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69261\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/sentiment-99x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"99\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/sentiment-99x150.jpg 99w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/sentiment-600x913.jpg 600w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/sentiment.jpg 657w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 99px) 100vw, 99px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781645250241\">Sentimental Doubts<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nby <a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Teresa_Wilms_Montt\">Teresa Wilms Montt<\/a> (Jessica Sequeira, trans.) Snuggly Books<\/p>\n<p>Leila Taylor\u2019s Darkly left me wondering whether the gothic might not also have parallels in South American literature, in particular\u2014following Taylor\u2019s lead\u2014African-South American experience. Martinique author <a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Patrick_Chamoiseau\">Patrick Chamoiseau<\/a> (whose book collaboration with Rodolphe Hammadi, <em>French Guiana: Memory Traces of the Penal Colony<\/em>, I <a href=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/2020\/06\/02\/i-arrogantly-recommend-by-tom-bowden-3\/\">reviewed recently<\/a>, may be one who has come closest to exploring that idea under the umbrella of \u201cCreoleness,\u201d \u201cwhich in the case of the Caribbean, refers to the blending of African, Polynesian, and Asian cultures with that of their European colonizers. This idea of Creoleness contrasts the idea of \u2018Americanness\u2019 in that it existed prior to America, and that \u2018Americanness\u2019 excludes it interaction with the indigenous population.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>While goth is shock wrapped in a mantle of world-weariness, it is also very much a young person\u2019s genre: Lewis was 21 when he wrote <em>The Monk<\/em>, and Mary Shelley was 19 when she wrote <em>Frankenstein<\/em> (itself very much a teenage story of painful self-consciousness and rejection of society). The white experience of South American Gothic in its off-shoot form, Decadence, can be found in Teresa Wilms Montt\u2019s small body of works (she was 24 when this was published):<\/p>\n<div id=\"attachment_69263\" style=\"width: 329px\" class=\"wp-caption alignright\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-69263\" class=\"wp-image-69263 size-full\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/Teresa_Wilms_Montt.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"319\" height=\"376\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/Teresa_Wilms_Montt.jpg 319w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/Teresa_Wilms_Montt-127x150.jpg 127w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 319px) 100vw, 319px\" \/><p id=\"caption-attachment-69263\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">Teresa Wilms Montt (8 September 1893 \u2013 24 December 1921)<\/p><\/div>\n<p><em>Hats give me the impression of cut-off, mummified heads, and the ones with colorful dangling cords make me imagine heads pulled off by a brutal hand, still attached by a bloody vein.<br \/>\nI can never see a pair of gloves without imagining them to be the skin of preserved hands; and in those of a yellow color, I see something revolting that is beginning to rot.<br \/>\nHow I loathe the items of clothing left on the bed, forgotten: there\u2019s a great parallel between them and the dead.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Once, in an asylum, I saw a mad woman who was dead, and she looked just like a violet rag tossed into a coffin.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u2014Teresa Wilms Montt, <em>Sentimental Doubts<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Decadent literature uses protagonists for whom the larger, societal moral decay is often internalized as manic obsessions over morbid thoughts and actions, toward the self and others. Given its susceptibility to sophistry, then, some forms of Decadence can also be read as forms of privilege: the characters are in situations, or create situations for themselves, that allow emotionally and physically destructive indulgence.<\/p>\n<p>However, Teresa Wilms Montt (1893\u20131921), for instance, came from a wealthy Chilean family and had a private home education, but escaped bourgeois trappings nonetheless\u2014marrying at 17 against her family\u2019s wishes and being thrown into a convent as punishment for having an affair with her husband\u2019s cousin\u2014but only after discovering leftist politics. The poet Vicente Huidobro helped her escape the convent and took her to Buenos Aires in 1916, where she met the writers Borges and Victoria Ocampo (sister of Sylvia Ocampo).<\/p>\n<p>The following year, 1917, she wrote <em>Sentimental Doubts<\/em>, a sequence of vignettes on pain, loss, love, eros, spiritual loss, and so forth. After all, she was now permanently separated from her children, husband, and parents, punished for desire. She died at 28 from a drug overdose.<\/p>\n<p>[Editor&#8217;s note]: The Chilean film <em><a href=\"https:\/\/youtu.be\/9mRqaxQQyzU\">Teresa<\/a><\/em> on the life of Teresa Wilms Montt was released and directed by Tatiana Gaviola in 2008. Her poetry can be found in the collection: <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781943813827\">In the Stillness of Marble<\/a> <\/em>(1917), also published by Snuggly.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69264\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/hauntings-97x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"97\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/hauntings-97x150.jpg 97w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/hauntings-600x927.jpg 600w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/hauntings.jpg 647w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 97px) 100vw, 97px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781645250197\">Hauntings<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nby <a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/%C3%89douard_Dujardin\">Edouard Dujardin<\/a> (<a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Brian_Stableford\">Brian Stableford<\/a>, trans.) Snuggly Books<\/p>\n<p>Another author of manic obsessions, Edouard Dujardin is remembered now primarily for his novel <em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.gutenberg.org\/ebooks\/26648\">Les Lauriers sont coup\u00e9s<\/a><\/em>, credited as the first stream-of-consciousness novel (1887!), and thus a direct literary forebear to Joyce\u2019s <em>Ulysses<\/em>. Dujardin\u2019s book <em>Hauntings<\/em> (1886) is presented in Brian Stableford\u2019s Introduction as the immediately preceding step in the development of stream-of-consciousness. But given the frequent use of manic monologues in the stories that comprise <em>Hauntings<\/em>, I would also suggest that one can read Dujardin as a step to Joyce <em>after<\/em> Poe (cf, \u201cThe Tell-Tale Heart,\u201d \u201cThe Raven\u201d).<\/p>\n<p>A profound, radical sense of doubt dooms many of <em>Hauntings<\/em>\u2019 protagonists: One man, who has lived through years of (what we would now call) psychotic episodes now wonders, since his hallucinations appeared as real to him as what he sees in his current \u201csane\u201d state, on what basis he could possibly know if he\u2019s really sane\u2014or that what he endured before was actually a hallucination? Another man\u2014whose first adventure in love ended with the woman killed in childbirth and the baby abandoned at a hospital\u2014distracts himself from the shame of his youth by devoting his time and attention work. After 18 years of this, at the age of 44, he decides to marry (and the woman must (inexplicably) be only 18 years old), just to find himself unable to complete the seduction of any woman he\u2019s matched with, because he\u2019s afraid she might be the daughter he abandoned. (Cf. Beryl Bainbridge\u2019s <em>An Awfully Big Adventure<\/em> for a modern treatment of that theme). . . An erudite atheist fears he\u2019s made the wrong choice, despite his dismissal of all arguments of faith. . . A young seminarian\u2019s vows of chastity and refusal to masturbate (both clearly at odds with the lusty physique God has blessed him with) climax in a stroke at the end of his first sermon as a priest (which, for the paralysis, at least, reminded me of Joyce\u2019s \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/The_Sisters_(short_story)\">The Sisters<\/a>.\u201d) . . And so forth.<\/p>\n<p>A hundred and thirty years on, the emotional force of these monologues can seem shrill and teen-angsty, despite\u2014or because of\u2014the intellectual pedigree each narrator claims\u2014an assurance that they are above it all (i.e., in possession of such vast amounts of knowledge as to place them far beyond the plebian realm of \u201cemotion\u201d), I suspect the mood Dujardin was attempting to recreate on the page (and one of the first to do so) was the mind of a man (always) who, despite having mastered the art and science of reason, finds that doubt, one single doubt\u2014the unanswered question whose answer transcends reason\u2014has destroyed his entire intellectual edifice. What today\u2019s reader has to transcend is our own time and place, where doubt and uncertainty are both on tap, fresh every day. The reader has to overcome the cynicism of today to understand the cynicism of yesterday, which\u2014as the lyrics from the \u201cLove Boat\u201d theme song would have it\u2014was once \u201cexciting and new.\u201d In the 1880s, Symbolists and Decadents could ardently yearn for an existential dread that hadn\u2019t yet become a marketing ploy for Big Pharma and advertisers. Think of Hauntings as letters from the Land of Dread, when it was still largely terra incognito for literature.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69267\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/decadent-97x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"97\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/decadent-97x150.jpg 97w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/decadent.jpg 647w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 97px) 100vw, 97px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781645250289\">Decadent Prose Pieces<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nby <a href=\"https:\/\/fr.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/L%C3%A9o_Tr%C3%A9zen\">L\u00e9o Tr\u00e9zenik<\/a> (Brian Stableford, trans.), Snuggly Books<\/p>\n<p>Because Decadence can be strident about depression, ennui, and weltschmertz, it is never too far from comedy, a full-immersion in bad taste. And \u201cbad taste\u201d usually means talking about things decent people shouldn\u2019t talk about. By the late 19th-century, literature\u2019s nascent Decadent movement had enough room to turn the yawns of ennui by anti-bourgeoisie bored of life into cynical, morbid laughter at the causes of that boredom\u2014usually the result of an author\u2019s assumed intellectual superiority over mere sensual pleasures (i.e., the pleasures<a href=\"https:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Joris-Karl_Huysmans\"> J-K Huysmans\u2019s<\/a> protagonists would take). Thus, the short sketches that make up this slim volume\u2014most are only a page-and-a-half long\u2014combine Joyce\u2019s sense of epiphany (\u201ca sudden spiritual manifestation, whether in the vulgarity of speech or of gesture or in a memorable phase of the mind itself\u201d) with the bleakness of cartoons by Charles Addams and Joan Cornell\u00e0. By today\u2019s standards, nothing here would raise an eyebrow\u2014the stories are safe as milk\u2014but given that their point was to take members of society down a peg or two, Tr\u00e9zenik\u2019s cynical evisceration of social hypocrisies was seen as bad taste\u2014which, John Waters, will tell you, is the whole point of comedy.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69268\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/box-97x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"97\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/box-97x150.jpg 97w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/box.jpg 649w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 97px) 100vw, 97px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9780811230056\">Box Hill<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nBy Adam Mars-Jones, New Directions<\/p>\n<p>A short, affecting account of relationship between two men about 10 years apart in age. Beginning on the day Colin turns 18 and ending six years later with Ray\u2019s death, Colin\u2019s relationship to Ray resembles that of his (Colin\u2019s) father to his mother. Both relationships are based on unspoken rules and hierarchies, and to outsiders probably appear as a couple merely cordial toward each other. And for the four of them, they each knew a love often painful and confusing yet as fulfilling as they could hope for.<\/p>\n<p>At the end, Colin learns to live by and for himself after the one person he lived for dies, as does his mother after the one person who lived for her dies.<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69269\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/caretaker-110x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"110\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/caretaker-110x150.jpg 110w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/caretaker.jpg 735w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 110px) 100vw, 110px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9780811229494\">The Caretaker<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nby Doon Arbus, New Directions<\/p>\n<p><em>The Caretaker <\/em>narrates the tale of a bright, unmoored, unnamed protagonist who, midway through life\u2019s path, discovers Stuff, a book by one Charles Morgan in defense of collecting bric-a-brac. At the time of this discovery, Morgan was still relatively fresh in the grave, and his estate in need of a docent to catalog, display, and explain Morgan\u2019s life\u2019s to visitors. Enter our protagonist. Perpetually single, perpetually unattached and, apparently, unaffected by sexual and emotional drives, the caretaker tirelessly works for 24 years in service to Morgan\u2019s ideas and collection.<\/p>\n<p>The narrator and other characters exude traits from Edward Gorey\u2019s world\u2014eccentricity, grim humor, and Edwardian fussiness\u2014and misanthropy and cruelty from Roald Dahl\u2019s. Unlike Dahl\u2019s, however, the caretaker\u2019s misanthropy seems wholly without motivation, largely because he lacks an inner life. Although the eccentricity and humor kept me reading, as the story drove on, I became more estranged from it because the characters were playing to type, not need or drive.<\/p>\n<p>One hint at an inner life for the caretaker comes late in the book, when he is forging an entry into a bogus journal by \u201cMorgan.\u201d This note sounds personal, and at this point I couldn\u2019t dissociate Doon Arbus from her mother Diane\u2019s legacy:<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOf course, as [biographers] will surely tell you, they only want to get the story right, but evil is the inevitable firstborn child of that sanctimonious monster known as good intentions and I am no one\u2019s story. So let me be instead the rapist they are looking for, the murderer, the plagiarist, the thief, the fraud. Collaborate. Help them to explain me into nonexistence. Help them make me disappear. Save me by condemnation, obfuscation, misdirection. Lie about me. Indict me. Contradict me. Libel me. Defame me. Slander me. Stigmatize me. Save me from the consuming world. Let me be. Let falsehood be my shroud.\u201d<\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-thumbnail wp-image-69270\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/abolish-99x150.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"99\" height=\"150\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/abolish-99x150.jpg 99w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/abolish.jpg 661w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 99px) 100vw, 99px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781912248704\">Abolish Silicon Valley<\/a><\/em><br \/>\nby Wendy Liu, Repeater Books<\/p>\n<p>The start of Wendy Liu\u2019s memoir is a story similar to that of many of my students: Computer nerd since early teens, writing code, inventing games, creating websites, and working semi-professionally on the side while in high school. A common characteristic includes shoe-horning the world into programming logic charts, which makes the world manageably rational and eliminates ethical issues, which are seen as technical rather than moral challenges. And the pay for all of this cleverness is the stuff that moistened Ayn Rand\u2019s panties.<\/p>\n<p>Once Liu attains the cherished goal of interning at Google, however (this was about 10 years ago), she begins sounding like the students I\u2019ve been seeing more of in the past two years, who are less impressed by money than the ability to do good. At the internship, pampered with provided housing, fabulous food at work, and a summer income more than her mother\u2019s annual pay, she remains unseduced by work that is dull, though challenging, and meaningless other than serving the financial interests of billionaires.<\/p>\n<p>Back at university, Liu and her friends develop an idea for gathering end-user data, which gives them enough money to declare \u201cstart-up\u201d status. Her company becomes a start-up in search of a market, which in her case meant determining which user data to collect, then determining a use for it. By the end of her two-and-a-half years working 80- to 100-hours a week, she realizes that she no longer believes in the project (it\u2019s something she and the team can do, but is it worth doing?); she starts questioning the ethics of collecting personal data, merely in the name of advertising; and she becomes increasingly unimpressed by the vast sums of wealth used primarily for satisfying petty, personal matters. Even if a reader is unmoved by the moral arguments she makes, her insight into the Silicon Valley ethos behind start-up funding is the first I\u2019ve read. Namely, Liu argues that the 100 hours a week that members of start-up companies routinely put in\u2014without having to be asked!\u2014is essentially a relatively inexpensive way for companies to (a) conduct R&amp;D with (b) a team with a demonstrated ability to function well despite the hours of self-imposed pressure to perform. Companies cannot expect seasoned engineers to endlessly work 80-hour weeks on ill-defined ideas for ill-defined markets the off-chance it might turn into something useful. You might make $100K\/year in your upstart (the millions don\u2019t come until the IPO), but you have no time and spend and enjoy it, and you probably live in a one-bedroom apartment with $5-6K\/month rent.<\/p>\n<p>When your upstart is among the 99% that fail, your venture capitalist angel sells the data you collected to recoup what he (probably a \u201che\u201d) spent on the project. You, on the other hand, get to decide if you want to do it all over again with a new start-up, enter a company already established, or get out of the field when the commercial rewards clash with your moral values. At some point in Liu\u2019s moral education, her sense of entitlement collided with they pay and privileges others aren\u2019t given for their skills and labor\u2014like those who cook the food and provide other services to the engineers on Google\u2019s campus. While Liu\u2019s start up was trying to determine a way to capture personal information without personal approval and sell it, Google\u2019s service workers were engaged in ethical work that tends to actual human needs.<\/p>\n<p>After her start-up disbands, Liu is ready for a re-set, which ends up taking the form of enrolling in the London School of Economics and earning a master\u2019s degree in inequality. The last 50 pages or so amount to a standard-issue Marxist assessment of Big Tech\u2019s many moral and ethical failings. \u201cAbolishing Silicon Valley, then,\u201d Liu concludes, \u201cmeans moving beyond the flawed paradigm of capitalism. It is irresponsible to allow technology development to be driven primarily by the needs of capital. Instead, we should rewire the lines of power within the industry as well as society at large; the goal should be democratic control over technology\u2019s development, and an equitable distribution of its benefits.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Abolish Silicon Valley   Interview With Wendy Liu\" width=\"635\" height=\"357\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/FqlohS340sQ?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<hr>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/ugly-logo.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"122\" height=\"157\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-69271\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/ugly-logo.png 122w, https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/ugly-logo-117x150.png 117w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 122px) 100vw, 122px\" \/><em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781946433565\">Notes toward a Pamphlet <\/a><\/em>by Sergio Chejfec (Whitney DeVos, trans.) \u2022 <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781946433404\">The World Has Been Empty Since the Postcard<\/a><\/em> by Simon Cutts \u2022 <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781937027971\">Translation Is a Mode = Translation Is an Anti-Neocolonial Mode<\/a> <\/em>by Don Mee Choi \u2022 <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781937027896\">Golem Soveticus: Prigov as Brecht and Warhol in One Persona<\/a><\/em> by Aleksandr Skidan (Kevin M.F. Platt, trans.) \u2022 <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bookshop.org\/a\/1028\/9781937027964\">Thirty-Odd Functions of Voice in the Poetry of Alice Notley<\/a><\/em> by <a href=\"https:\/\/lareviewofbooks.org\/contributor\/steven-zultanski\">Steven Zultanski<\/a><br \/>\nUgly Duckling Presse<\/p>\n<p>Ugly Duckling Presse [sic] is an indie nonprofit publisher out of Brooklyn, printing books, periodicals, chapbooks, and ephemera since 2006, often with a letterpress, in whole or in part. Poetry, drama, essays, and stuff that is a little bit of everything or unlike anything else. As it goes with the avant-garde in any medium, everything is strictly small batch, with a big print run coming to about 1,200 copies.<\/p>\n<p>This year, in addition to the above, Ugly Duckling has initiated a pamphlet series of \u201ctwenty commissioned essays on collective work, translation, performance, pedagogy, poetics, and small press publishing,\u201d the first five of which are under review here, each ranging around the 40-page mark. The pamphlet form is a constraint in itself\u2014longer than most articles appearing in newspapers and magazines, but too short to serve as an introduction to a topic. It\u2019s a solo outing, so no fluff allowed. Because of its brevity, the pamphlet has an ephemeral feel to it, but its lack of material heft in no way negates its cultural weight. In its polemic form it serves as a manifesto; in its focus on cultural topics\u2014as with the UDP Pamphlet Series\u2014it can pique ideas and (tentatively) explore their possibilities.<\/p>\n<p>Two of the pamphlets here explicate the works of poets I\u2019m unfamiliar with (Dmitri Prigov and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poets\/alice-notley\">Alice Notley<\/a>), but there is enough explication and examples to whet my appetite for more. (And, as fate would have it, Ugly Duckling has translated and published two of Prigov\u2019s books.) <a href=\"https:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poets\/don-mee-choi\">Don Mee Choi\u2019s<\/a> <em>Translation is a Mode=Translation is an Anti-neocolonial Mode<\/em> deals with the cultural appropriation and domination experienced when a work is translated from the language of the oppressed to that of the (former) oppressor.<\/p>\n<p>Simon Cutts (<em>The World Has Been Empty Since the Postcard<\/em>) has been engaging with and publishing postcard art since at least 1975, in part via his Coracle press (still in operation). In <em>The World<\/em>, he talks about the history of postcard art as he and his friends practiced it.<\/p>\n<p>Like Steven Zultanski&#8217;s <em>Thirty-Odd Functions of Voice in the Poetry of Alice Notley<\/em>, Sergio Chejfec\u2019s <em>Notes toward a Pamphlet<\/em> uses a list format to shapes his story. Chejfec\u2019s is the only work of fiction in this collection, a short story in the form of a biographic essay about an Argentine poet named Samich whose incoherent sense of aesthetic integrity vis-\u00e0-vis poetry renders him almost entirely unable to write or even say much in the way of the poetic. Thus, most of the \u201cnotes\u201d on Samich are speculations on what he may have been thinking and the significance of Samich\u2019s various ways of accomplishing nothing\u2014excuses for Samich\u2019s life of all hat and no hair.<br \/>\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Alice Notley - Poetry Reading at UChicago\" width=\"635\" height=\"476\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/HIJwRTriDY4?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe><\/p>\n<hr>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Darkly: Black History and America&rsquo;s Gothic Soul by Leila Taylor, Restless Books I quite like the idea of me emerging from my mother&rsquo;s womb and handing my dad a calling card reading I AM THE NIGHT [&lsquo;Leila&rsquo; in Arabic]. It makes my morbid predilections inevitable, genetic even&mdash;a predisposition to horror movies, black nail polish and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":69272,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[15,65],"tags":[537,538],"class_list":["post-69138","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","category-world-lit","tag-leila-taylor","tag-teresa-wilms-montt"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69138","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=69138"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/69138\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/69272"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=69138"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=69138"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thebookbeat.com\/backroom\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=69138"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}