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We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
I typically choose my reading material from browsing. I scan through Amazon’s lists reading blurbs and reviews and impulse buy from their options. Sometimes I even make it to an actual brick and mortar store and select books from their shelves, though usually if I’m buying from a book store it’s literary journals I’m going for.Lately, however, I have been taking recommendations from people I don’t know. In this case, the writer from a webcomic, asofterworld.com, that I like to read mentioned on his site that he enjoyed Jackson’s 1962 short novel We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Having read Jackson’s short story The Lottery like every other American citizen and enjoyed it I decided to take his recommendation and request the book as a Christmas present.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a quick read about a young girl, her older sister, and their dying uncle living alone in a large house. Ever since the mass-poisoning of the other Blackwood family members the remaining three have been ostracized by the villagers and are forced to keep to themselves.
Told from the perspective of the young Mary Katherine (Merricat) we are shown the dark side of humanity and mob mentality. Mary Katherine is bullied when she goes into town for groceries, not just by meddlesome children but by their parents, as well.
The Blackwood girls are far from innocent, however. It is assumed that Mary Katherine’s older sister Constance intentionally put arsenic in the sugar, causing the death of almost her entire family. Mary Katherine hates the villagers and often wishes them dead while taking great pleasure in making people uncomfortable by offering them sugar for their tea and making other rather dark jokes about her family tragedy.
It’s a captivating story, dark and a little amusing. Jackson has a great way of drawing out characters that are simultaneously creepy and lovable. We Have Always Lived in the Castle is a great option for lovers of The Lottery and anyone who wants a fun, quick read.
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RAW
A few weeks ago I was standing in one of the dim hallways that house thousands of single copy comic books. Rows and rows of plain white cardboard boxes sat holding the secrets of super heroes and the etchings of artists gone but not forgotten. A Fantagraphics employee passed by as I was being given the run down on filing. He stopped and offered up a book, saying he had bought it without realizing he already had this issue.This was how I came into possession of my first issue of RAW. This 1990 issue, “Required Reading for the Post-Literate” was the second to last issue of the series published by Art Spiegelman (of Maus fame) and Francoise Mouly. This issue was printed (by Penguin) as a perfect bound book with full color pages (except for some b & w comics) with some differing paper stocks. A beautiful book, especially considering most previous issues were printed in black and white with stapled binding.
But what is RAW? It’s a literary journal for comics, to say it simply. A portion of Spiegelman’s Maus appears in this issue along with comics from Lynda Barry, Jacques Tardi, and a rather strange comic by Boody Rogers about a blonde beauty who is treated like a horse by centaurs, originally published in 1949.
What I really loved about this issue of RAW was the opportunity to try out so many different comics in one sitting. It’s easy to get a real taste for a cartoonist’s style and genre through the snippets in this book.
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Castle Waiting Vol. 1
Castle Waiting is a graphic novel of the fairy tale variety written by Linda Medley. It mixes old tales (like the story of Sleeping Beauty and a hen that lays golden eggs) with new ones (a religious sect of bearded women who protect women from nasty husbands) with an array of characters that live together in peace within the protective walls of Castle Waiting.
This first volume tells the story behind Sister Peace, a woman who went from a barmaid to a circus worker to a nun. It also shows a pregnant woman’s journey to Castle Waiting and some of the things that happen at the castle. A beaked-man watches over them all, three old handmaids coo over the new (green!) baby, and a demon tries to trick them into signing questionable documents in exchange for wishes fulfilled.
This volume covers an introduction of the characters and one back story, which leaves the reader wanting much more after the final page is turned. It’s a rather PG book but with some adult themes and concepts mixed in. It also had me laughing out loud a few times at some of the shenanigans the characters get themselves into.
I had hoped this comic would be a little more adult, with a darker adaptation of the original fairy tales, but it was still an enjoyable read with mostly happy endings. I look forward to reading the second volume.
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Richard Yates by Tao Lin
Tao Lin’s name has been sprinkled about in reviews, newspapers, and online a fair amount in the past year. He’s young and irritating and people seem generally confused and annoyed by him. For example, it seems he wrote a feature story about himself for Seattle’s The Stranger. There has, of course, been some more standard promotion for Lin, including a story on Salon.com and an interview on themillions.com. My favorite piece on Lin, however, was written on Gawker.com criticizing Lin for his promotional tactics and general attitude:Tao Lin, I know you’re reading this. I just want you to know that because of your ill-conceived self-marketing strategy, you have 100% guaranteed that I will never read your damned book with its oh-so-wacky title. Dennis Cooper might love you, but that doesn’t mean a thing to us. (Hey, maybe he’ll chop you up!) Your publicity games aren’t a play on fame-seeking or celebrity culture. Actually, you’re maybe perhaps the single most irritating person we’ve ever had to deal with—and you wouldn’t believe our in-box. Stop it. Stop it now. And now we will go back to never mentioning you again.
That said, I recently read Lin’s most recent book, Richard Yates. My boyfriend handed it to me and said, “Here, you have to read this so we can talk about how awful it is.” So began my journey into the pages to the single worst novel I have ever read.
Richard Yates follows a 22-year-old pretentious New York writer (dubbed Haley Joel Osment) and his 16 year old bulimic, faux-suicidal New Jersey girlfriend (Dakota Fanning). Told mostly through emails, text messages, and gmail chat, the story is slow, monotonous and incredibly boring. Lin is giving a peek into a modern-day dysfunctional relationship that will ring familiar to anyone who went to high school from 2000 to now, when social interactions moved largely to online mediums.
Both characters spend their time lamenting being alive and doing silly things like mailing each other stuffed animals and making up insults (they like to call people they don’t like, which is everyone, “cheese beasts” and “party girls”). The one thing I will credit Lin for is that he does a good job of capturing the self-absorbed, melodramatic personality of the typical American teenage girl and the mopey, faux-existentialist twenty-something male writer. Unfortunately, these characters just mill around barely interacting with anyone other than each other (and even those interactions are mostly through the internet). They also have no redeemable qualities or embark on any journeys in which they change, grow, or become more palatable to the reader.
The so-called “illicit” relationship between the two never feels illicit, or sexy, or intriguing. Haley Joel Osment is just as immature as she is, therefore the age difference seems nonexistent. Haley does prove to have a bad impact on the younger girl, however, as his constant criticisms on her personality and weight cause her to become bulimic. But Haley isn’t a monster, he’s just kind of a jerk. He criticizes Dakota Fanning, but also puts up with her flakiness and in the end tries to make her healthier and to stop throwing up.
Some have said that Lin is the next great American novelist, that he’s the voice of a generation, etc. and these things frighten me greatly as I am a part of that generation. I refuse to allow schmucks like Lin to speak for me, especially when he isn’t saying anything.
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Four Books, Four Minutes
I had a short period of time recently where I was reading a lot but writing about it very little. So to catch everyone up on my reading quickly and succinctly, here are four books in four minutes:
Maus by Art Speigleman
A graphic novel in two parts about Spiegleman’s relationship with his father and a telling of his father’s experiences surviving the Holocaust. Mice depict Jews, cats depict the Germans, the story is both funny and horrifying at the same time. A really great read, I highly suggest it for anyone new to graphic novels as a good place to start.
The Beats- A Graphic History by Harvey Pekar and Ed Piskor and many other people
A brief history of the Beat Generation including Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac and other less immediately recognizable writers and artists from that movement. The art is really appealing but the content is rather rushed and tries to boil a whole movement and life histories down too much. It touches on many aspects (including the women involved in the movement, and often completely ignored group) which makes it a good read for an overview, but it also comes across like illustrated bullet points.
Ten Little Indians by Sherman Alexie
This collection of short stories follows modern-day Native Americans living in Seattle. The characters in these stories are all very different- one is an alcoholic homeless man who sees his grandmother’s headdress in a pawn shop and decides to try and rescue it, another is a very intelligent college girl obsessed with poetry trying to hunt down a Native American poet she found by accident in her school library, another an unhappy housewife who dreams of surviving a terrorist attack in order to be presumed dead and escape her humdrum life. Alexie weaves all these stories with a humor and eloquence that is difficult to find, and his characters are people I have never met before in reality or fiction, which makes for a refreshing read.
Skinny Legs and All by Tom Robbins
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I LOVE Tom Robbins. I also loved this book. A young waitress/artist tries to make it in the big city while her artistically challenged new husband stumbles into success and fame, a can of beans, a spoon, a stick, a dirty sock, and a conch shell travel across the United States in search of the waitress and Jerusalem while giving us a history lesson on Israel and Palestine’s religious struggles, and a crazy preacher believes he has heard a message from God. Of course there are about a million things more to this book, so just read it already.
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NaNoWriMo Has Begun!
NaNoWriMo is an annual novel writing event that occurs every Novemeber. The idea is to write an entire 175-page novel starting November first and ending November thirtieth. It’s a quantity over quality approach to writing. I’ve known about this event for years but have never participated in it- until this year.
While my life is pretty hectic right now working and interning at Fantagraphics Books here in Seattle, I think this is my year. I’m starting two days behind schedule, but I am confidant I will be victorious come November 30th.
I highly encourage anyone out there to participate in this year’s NaNoWriMo!
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Flash Fiction: Your Favorite Song
Apparently this prompt wasn’t very popular. I had trouble with it myself. This is not my best work. Anyway, here is what I came up with:
The God of Wine comes crashing through the headlights of a car that took you farther than you thought you’d ever want to go. We can’t get back again. -“God of Wine”, Third Eye Blind
It felt like the car was sliding out from underneath him. That’s what Jeremy remembers most from that night. Darren says all he can remember is the screaming, how it burst out of Rachel so quickly and then stopped, cut off. Rachel doesn’t remember anything, because Rachel is dead.
Officer Harris remembers being called to the scene, another drunk driving accident on Highway 1. He hated those calls, it was a small town and it was likely he would know one or more of the kids in the car. When he arrived he saw the vehicle wrapped around a telephone pole. The passenger side of the Camry completely smashed in. He remembers seeing the boys first, unconscious but alive.
All his partner remembers is the girl’s blonde hair. Her body was completely crushed, and all that hair was spread out across the seat, wrapping, wet with blood, around the shards of glass and metal.
Carrie remembers that the last thing she said to Rachel was, “God, you’re such a slut!” as she ran, laughing, towards Jeremy’s car. Eric remembers watching her run off, too, because he had been waiting for her outside the party.
Rachel’s parents don’t remember much of anything. Her dad thinks he might have offered the officers a cup of coffee, but it’s possible he never said anything. Her mother remembers hearing the sirens before she heard the news.
Jeremy hasn’t left the house since the accident. I heard from Carrie who heard from Darren that he takes like fifty showers a day, murmuring Can we get clean again?
Song: “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon
Story by James Grange
My name is Jim, and I think my alcoholism is finally catching up with me. Or at least, maybe, I might be going crazy.
He was there. I saw him in Soho last night as I was stepping out of a bar on Gerrard Street into the rain. There he came, casual as can be, greased hair, erect posture, fangs glinting in the streetlights. Hair on every inch of exposed skin. I froze as he stopped in front of me. He said, “Mate, you ever heard of this place, Lee Ho Fook’s?” He said “Fook’s” like a lot of east-enders might say fuck. I couldn’t respond. He just stared at me, green eyes glinting as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds.
“Well?” he said.
I composed myself enough to point. “Two blocks. Please don’t eat me.”
“What?” he said, acting confused.
“Don’t eat me,” I whimpered. “I don’t want to die.”
“Mate,” he said, smirking, “unless your name is beef chow mein, I’m not gonna eat you.” And then he walked away.
That was my first encounter with a werewolf.
That night I could hear them. Hundreds maybe, howling in the night. I crouched on the cold tile in my kitchen, taking slugs from a bottle as one beat furiously against the back door of my flat. To distract myself, I scanned channels on the tiny television on my counter. News report: Mary Sperry, 79 years old, mauled gruesomely in Kent by a “long-haired thug.” Football game: Chelsea at Tottenham, the fans, rowdy, all of them howling, snarling. On BBC 2, a program about the royal family. A man who looked just like Lon Chaney from that movieThe Wolf Man strolling arm and arm with the Queen. I rubbed my eyes. Still there. Another news Report: Roland Abcott, 36, found in his apartment in Mayfair with his lungs torn out.
Outside, they howled and howled. I drank, and fell asleep just as the sun rose.
I awoke. Pale sunlight through the clouds. Empty bottle. I grabbed my coat and headed out to a place I like to go. I felt safe in broad daylight. The full moon phase would be over soon.
My head ached. People were talking, but where were they? I told them to stop and they obliged. Just my feet against the pavement then, and I arrived at Trader Vic’s. Inside, my eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light.
Only one patron at the bar and the bartender. I walked up. Took off my coat. I ordered the usual. The man spoke beside me. He had perfect greased hair. He said something I couldn’t hear. I asked him to repeat himself. He smiled as I turned to him. He held his pina colada aloft a moment, then brought the straw to his mouth and sucked between long, yellowed fangs sticking down over his bottom lip.
“Draw blood,” he said again.
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Flash Fiction Friday: Your Favorite Song
How this works:
1. You read/listen to/watch/look at the writing prompt I post here on Fridays. There will be a new prompt every Friday.
2. You write a flash fiction piece of 400 words or less, paste it into the body of an email NO ATTACHMENTS along with your name and location and send it to me at laurareviewsbooks@gmail.com by the following Sunday at 6 pm.
3. I read them and post my favorite five plus my own flash fiction piece based on the prompt the following Monday.
4. At the end of every month I will choose someone who has submitted during that month to receive a free book. I’ll give you some options and mail it out to you.
This week’s prompt let’s you choose. Pick a song, a favorite song, a song you hate, or just a song you always thought would make a great story and write a story based on it. I got this idea from the book Lit Riffs- Writers “Cover” the Songs They Love. For example, Aimmee Bender wrote a story based on the song “The Lobby” by Jane Siberry and David Ebershoff wrote a story based on “Four Last Songs” by Herman Hesse and composer Richard Strauss.
I’m not sure what song I am going to pick, but I’m excited about this prompt. It combines two of my favorite things- music and writing.
When you send in your story, make sure to include the song title and artist.
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Magazines are Dead! Bum, Bum, Buuuuuuum!
Was it Colonel Mustard with a monkey wrench in the drawing-room? Or was it the Internet with faster, free content?
The world has been a-buzz for a while now about how print is dead, and with the mass foldings of newspapers and magazines everywhere, it seems like paper’s fate is sealed.
Paste Magazine officially folded last week leaving behind them a bunch of unpaid freelancers and sad subscribers. Their website will still be up, but it’s certain they are running on a very small staff. 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGVniqgWSc0
In March 2010 the leaders of five major magazine companies united to run a widespread “Magazines- The Power of Print” advertising campaign to try to convince the world that the Internet wasn’t really killing magazines, even if it seemed like it. They even put together a “11 Facts About Magazines” list to try to use logic to prove magazines aren’t dying. Does the lady doth protest too much? It really looks like it. One of the facts on this list (#5) really caught my attention.
5. Magazine readership in the 18 to 34 segment is growing. (Source: MRI)
What has struck me, being in that 18 to 34 segment, is how few magazines seem geared towards me. There is no Apartment Living lifestyle magazine (although I’ve heard Domino, one of the many magazines to fold, was such a publication) or other low-income oriented magazine. There are some fashion magazines, like Lucky, that feature inexpensive fashions, but I’m not really the type to go to a magazine for fashion ideas. The problem with my age group is that we (generally) don’t have disposable incomes and if we have to choose between a $24.95 magazine subscription and beer for a month (ok, weekend) we’re more likely to choose the beer.
Another problem is that we don’t even know most magazines exist. If we don’t see it while waiting in line at the grocery store we’re unlikely to know about it. So, for all my friends out there too busy, lazy, or apathetic to search out that special magazine I’m going to do it for you. Some may be magazines I have written about before, but many will be new. Here are a few examples of magazines that may be of interest to us 18-34 year olds:
Bridal: The Knot started out as a website, and then shocked the world by launching a successful print magazine. 
Beer: Brew Your Own I would have added other food/beverage magazines, but let’s face it. I’m never going to buy a magazine of recipes when I can find everything I want online quickly. Maybe others do, but I just can’t do it myself.
Go for either The Paris Review or Tin House. I’ll let you know when I come across a literary journal that is less expensive and just as awesome, but the truth is they are worth paying for. The quality of writing is really high, the art is interesting, and they interview people you have actually heard of. 
As for men’s interest, all I can say is my boyfriend subscribes to ESPN (it’s his favorite) and Maxim (I’m not entirely pleased by this one) and liked an issue of Men’s Health I had brought home for a homework assignment. 
For the ladies, we have fashion, feminism, and fun. I added Real Simple here mainly because I am always attracted to their covers and once I have a home to make pretty I will probably buy an issue of Real Simple.
I have already written about the two business magazines you should check out, Fast Company and Inc.
It’s hard to find the magazine that is just right for you. There are many niche magazines out there for hobbyists, magazines for writers, knitters, cowboys and photographers. I suggest hanging out at a bookstore and peruse the magazine section for a while until you find one you like. Buy a subscription! Save the print magazine! Show the industry that we still like glossies!
Bent Shelf Book Reviews 
