For National Poetry Month

As National Poetry Month comes to a close, it’s been great to see all the events around town.  This does bring to mind a less than satisfying literary experience that took place long ago and far away, though I did get this little poem out of it:

Famous Poet Workshop, Saturday 1-4 pm, $150

Caged sentiments, re-engineered memories,
and most of all, a way with words—
Let’s make a poem, shall we?
A poignant, patchwork little ditty,
a driven moment of self-examination
or typing, though some can’t write
without just the right pen or sedative.
Don’t let that slow you down. The lines
will find a way through the sediment
of your precious lives, and words will come
like something something you can’t—
or at least don’t care—to explain.
Never hang around to explain, and
eat the rest of those donuts or else
I’ll have to take them home.

A Richmond Noir Detour

The Richmond Noir crew, myself included, will make an appearance at the James River Film Festival.  This should be great fun.  From their website:

Monday, April 11, 7:30 p.m., Gallery 5, Admission $7/5 JRFS Members

A Richmond Noir Detour featuring Edgar Ulmer’s Detour (dir: Edgar Ulmer, 1945, 68 mins., b&w)

Plus readings from Richmond Noir with Dennis Danvers and Tom De Haven

This baroque noir protoype from B-director Edgar Ulmer was often overshadowed by bigger productions from MGM (Postman Always Rings Twice) and Paramount (Double Indemnity) released about the same time. But Detour accelerates the noir cycle to its bitter end and resembles (in structuring and characterizations) latter day noirs like Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil (’58) and Robert Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly (’55), with an over-the-top Ann Savage as the femmes noire from Hell, and Tom Neal as the romantic, ill-fated pianist who picks her up hitchhiking. All the noir conventions are intact: Fate, confessional voice-over, a love triangle, flashback and a Los Angeles end-game setting.  Ann Savage makes Barbara Stanwyck’s Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity look like a school marm! Editors Andrew Blossom and Brian Castleberry, writer Dennis Danvers, and writer/editor Tom De Haven will be on hand to read from and sign copies of Richmond Noir, on sale before and after Detour, courtesy of Chop Suey Books.

Another new poem

Not exactly “To a Skylark,” but you have to take your inspiration where you find it.  A slug poem:

Trail of Tears

Hope is frail
and I am frail
and both are surely dying.
The slug leaves a glistening trail
as evidence of his trying
to get somewhere,
somewhere over there,
where the way’s not slick with crying.
There’s salt in tears,
no hope in fears—of this
there’s no denying,
until finally bliss
is one last kiss—
death-defying!
After that, who knows?
The going slows
for a sluggish rhymer crying.
The meter pumps a salty sea
like the one that pumps inside,
further proof, should it be needed,
I haven’t quite yet died.

Summer Teaching: Twenty-First Century Fantastic

I will be teaching a new literature course this summer at VCU, May 23-June 23. The class meets Monday through Thursday 10:30 am-12:45 pm. It is listed as English 215-004 Textual Analysis. As with previous summer classes we’ll read a book (or the equivalent) a week, paired with a movie. In previous years, I’ve taught a survey of science fiction from the fifties to the present, as well as an urban fantasy class organized along genre lines with pairings of similar books and films.  This time out, I want to tour the fantastic as it is now.  I’ve gone about this as a working professional in the field, selecting texts that have made the most significant impact in recent years.  They are all also wonderful works of art.

We’ll start with Pan’s Labyrinth (film) and Redemption in Indigo by Karen Lord.  Of the many interesting first novels in the fantastic of late, hers most charmed me.  The film has been a favorite in the urban fantasy class.  Both works use traditional mythologies in modern settings to great effect.  Their narrative techniques are an artful blend of myth and metafiction.  Both feature delightful heroines who reinvent the myth they inhabit.

Next will be Children of Men (film) and The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi.  Both are buried under awards.  Future England, future Thailand—the dystopian future is alive and as scary as ever.  The loving attention to both world-building and character in both works belies the notion that there’s somehow a conflict between the two.  What didn’t occur to me before I chose the pair is the eerie resonance of their final scenes.

It used to be in sf that space was the place, but in the twenty-first century, place is a more complicated concept, and those ftl drives get harder and harder to spin up (or swallow).  The next pair— Inception (film) and The City & The City—tell stories in worlds of their own devising, worlds the inhabitants themselves help create, worlds that then shape them into who they are.  Or something like that.  I’ve gushed about the Miéville novel before.  It too is buried under awards.  I’m less sure of Inception, but it was the most noticed sf film of late (available on DVD).

Those of you who had the pleasure of hearing Kelly Link read at VCU recently know that one of the most exciting developments in the recent fantastic is the emergence of exceptional short fiction writers.  For this class we’ll read Kelly’s Pretty Monsters collection, paired with the Swedish film Let the Right One In. Both stories and film do marvelous things with monsters and children who love and fear them.  Meanwhile they play compelling narrative hell with genre expectations and perspective.

Finally, we’ll go online.  Not only is the short form enjoying a renaissance, it’s increasingly doing so online.  Awards nominees and recommended reading lists are now filled with titles from publications such as Clarkesworld and Strange Horizons.  I’m still working on a final list—there are so many to choose from.  (Suggestions are welcome).  I’m pairing these stories with what I’ll call the Netflix film, the film that gets a wide distribution because it’s streamable.  I’ll show Sleep Dealer, the timely Mexican sf film about immigrant labor.  We’ll see what effects this digital migration is having on the emerging fantastic.

I’m totally psyched.  Registration starts Monday.  Love to have you.

Atheist

Atheist

I’m not supposed to tell you I’m an atheist.
You might be concerned I have no moral compass,
no certainty concerning the finer points of the universe.
Better to dress it up and affect Taoist,
Plump it up and claim agnostic—gush
Gosh, wouldn’t it be nice to know?
Make of God such a windy abstraction
one might as well pray to the wind,
but please don’t say that word.
Sorry. I love life, Earth
its glorious habitat, sailing
through space, teeming with intelligent
faithful killing each other to confirm
which speaks for God. In silence I am
still mindful of our course,
our vessel,
the frailty of the crew,
its rare and precious cargo.

Redemption in Indigo

I just read Karen Lord’s Redemption in Indigo, and I was completely enchanted.  At first I was reminded of Amos Tutuola, but Lord brings much more to the narrative table than reworked folktale.  Funny, wise, and cleverly constructed, this novel is a delightful antidote to the excess of urban fantasies whose heroines possess the ethical sensibilities of paid assassins.  Karen Lord packs more skilled storytelling in this 188 page novel than most wheezy trilogies can crank out in a 1000.  I loved it!

Urban Fantasy Ends Run

As I blogged previously, I’ve been teaching two classes during the summers at Virginia Commonwealth University.  I described them in some detail in a talk I gave at the Library of Congress last August.  I started with a Science Fiction class seven years ago and added an Urban Fantasy class five years ago.  I have loved doing them, and they have both been quite successful.  I jinxed myself, apparently.  Due to all the variables universities are heir to, I’ll only be teaching one class this summer.  The rubric is now the innocuous Textual Analysis with a general course description one might park a moth-balled space shuttle inside of with room to spare, so I’m toying with various conflations of the two courses.  I may borrow a page from Andy Duncan’s book and teach a sampling of the very recent sf and fantasy—there’s so much good stuff to choose from.  I believe I’ll read some of it now.

Timothy Tiger

While thinking about my literary influences for Wilderness for a class I’ve been asked to teach on the novel, I thought of Timothy Tiger, about which I was deeply passionate at 4.  The influence on my work is clear:

Timothy was a dear little tidy tiger who did not have a mother.  He lived all by himself in the Great Big Jungle.  What he wanted most of all, was someone who could cuddle him and play with him and purr him to sleep every night.  So one day Timothy set out in search of a mother…

Canada Geese in Byrd Park

Canada Geese in Byrd Park

I’m moved by their dawn song, though I’ve grown to hate them,
a flapping, crapping infestation,
a non-migratory shit machine.
Still I’m a sucker for the splash
of their landing in the morning mists
upon the lake built to be so lovely in the 20’s
for man and goose alike. Only it’s
winter, guys, you’re not supposed to be here,
with more and more all the time,
a hazard to every water hazard,
destroyer of US Airways Flight 1549.
So where do you guys get off sounding so sublime?
Hired border collies roust you from the shit-slick promenade,
but still you keep coming back, determined. These are
your darkest days. The temptation must be strong to fly.
That must be what I hear in your song that moves me—
That longing to be birds again and fly the whole world round.
Hang in there. It’s Sunday.
Your pals with the Wonder Bread will be round shortly,
their chubby eager children, churning through the slime.