Billy O'Callaghan's Blog, page 2
October 14, 2016
On the subject of Bob Dylan and the Nobel Prize
I absolutely love the choice of Bob Dylan being named as the recipient of this year's Nobel Prize for Literature, not least because it's the one I hope for every year. I've lived with his songs on my stereo and in my mind, day in, day out, for the vast majority of my time here on earth. No writer in my lifetime has ever inspired me or moved me as deeply, and there's nobody whose words I hold as dear. Based on the early news reports, It's a fairly divisive and controversial call on the part of the Swedish Academy, but I think it also pushes the boundaries of what gets to be considered literature (the way the choice of the as-of-yesterday late Dario Fo did when he was honoured, back in the 90's). As Bob himself says, “The Times They Are A-Changin'.”
Okay, so there's music attached to the words, but these words are as finely and as imaginatively crafted as any written by anyone. Why is that not 'poetry'? Not 'literature'? Is it flippant to say that playwrights need actors to tell their stories, and novelists need paper? “It is the tale,” Stephen King once wrote (though, as a saying, it sounds far more ancient), “not he who tells it.” To this, can we add, “or the manner in which he chooses to do so”? And, surely needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), the artistry that makes it transcendent.
For me it's about that, rather than about influence – though, of course, where Dylan is concerned, that too is profound, and I'd be hard pushed to point to a songwriter who has done as much to elevate that particular form to the level of art.
I've read some pretty dismissive comments from writers on Facebook and Twitter (most claiming to be fans of Dylan, but...) bringing the aspect of craft into question,and insisting that there are dozens of writers as deserving. And that's certainly true, but there were dozens just as deserving when Alice Munro, Patrick Modiano and Svetlana Alexievich won, too (to name just the last three laureates), and that won't change, since there's only one prize given out each year.
Anyway, this is all just my long-winded way of saying (as I sit here listening to Brownsville Girl (as spellbinding and just magnificently conceived and structured a song/piece of literature/piece of art as you can ever surely hope to find) that this announcement has lifted my heart beyond measure (... oh, how shallow we can be, with all that's going on in the world… and what small lives some of us lead!)
Okay, so there's music attached to the words, but these words are as finely and as imaginatively crafted as any written by anyone. Why is that not 'poetry'? Not 'literature'? Is it flippant to say that playwrights need actors to tell their stories, and novelists need paper? “It is the tale,” Stephen King once wrote (though, as a saying, it sounds far more ancient), “not he who tells it.” To this, can we add, “or the manner in which he chooses to do so”? And, surely needless to say (but I'll say it anyway), the artistry that makes it transcendent.
For me it's about that, rather than about influence – though, of course, where Dylan is concerned, that too is profound, and I'd be hard pushed to point to a songwriter who has done as much to elevate that particular form to the level of art.
I've read some pretty dismissive comments from writers on Facebook and Twitter (most claiming to be fans of Dylan, but...) bringing the aspect of craft into question,and insisting that there are dozens of writers as deserving. And that's certainly true, but there were dozens just as deserving when Alice Munro, Patrick Modiano and Svetlana Alexievich won, too (to name just the last three laureates), and that won't change, since there's only one prize given out each year.
Anyway, this is all just my long-winded way of saying (as I sit here listening to Brownsville Girl (as spellbinding and just magnificently conceived and structured a song/piece of literature/piece of art as you can ever surely hope to find) that this announcement has lifted my heart beyond measure (... oh, how shallow we can be, with all that's going on in the world… and what small lives some of us lead!)
October 10, 2016
Even On Our Longest Days, a new short story
It happens this way, sometimes. Months of quiet, and then a little flurry of activity on the publishing front. I've been on a great run, lately, and I'm very happy to have a new story, Even On Our Longest Days, step out into the world through the October edition pages of the Honest Ulsterman.
This is a quiet sort of story, full of still surfaces. I worked on it for a long time, and there's satisfaction in knowing that it now has the chance to breathe on its own. Hopefully it'll find a welcome with a few friendly readers.
http://humag.co/prose/even-on-our-lon...
This is a quiet sort of story, full of still surfaces. I worked on it for a long time, and there's satisfaction in knowing that it now has the chance to breathe on its own. Hopefully it'll find a welcome with a few friendly readers.
http://humag.co/prose/even-on-our-lon...
September 29, 2016
two new stories, on the (distant) horizon
As someone whose stories are well versed in rejection (par for the course for any writer who has to play the slush-pile game), it's always such a joy when a little glint of sunlight makes it through the almost perpetual gloom. And I'm glad to report that, lately (though, in general, it's been a pretty good year), things have been falling right for me.
Over the past few months I've finished two new stories (sometimes I feel like the slowest writer on the planet...) and sent them out into the world hunting for a home.
A couple of weeks ago, a story that I actually started writing on the train from Beijing to Shanghai back in July was picked up by the Chattahoochee Review.
Then, last night, I received a lovely email telling me that the other story, 'A Death in the Family', will be published as a Ploughshares Solo. I'd been worried about this story in particular, not only because it's 11,000 words, which makes it a bit on the big side for most homes, but also because it's one I've been carrying around in my head (and heart) forever and had tried to write many times, without success. I was beginning to worry that I'd never get it right on the page, but it took until now to find the story's voice, and the way to tell it. I'll have to wait at least a year for it appear in print but, given the already lengthy gestation period (35 years), that feels like mayfly time...
Over the past few months I've finished two new stories (sometimes I feel like the slowest writer on the planet...) and sent them out into the world hunting for a home.
A couple of weeks ago, a story that I actually started writing on the train from Beijing to Shanghai back in July was picked up by the Chattahoochee Review.
Then, last night, I received a lovely email telling me that the other story, 'A Death in the Family', will be published as a Ploughshares Solo. I'd been worried about this story in particular, not only because it's 11,000 words, which makes it a bit on the big side for most homes, but also because it's one I've been carrying around in my head (and heart) forever and had tried to write many times, without success. I was beginning to worry that I'd never get it right on the page, but it took until now to find the story's voice, and the way to tell it. I'll have to wait at least a year for it appear in print but, given the already lengthy gestation period (35 years), that feels like mayfly time...
August 9, 2016
Reading in Shanghai
A few weeks (July 13th) back I read at the 14th International Conference on the Short Story, held this year in Shanghai's East China Normal University, alongside the wonderful New Zealand writer, Frankie McMillan, and China's Asia Booker Prize winner, Su Tong. Because my most recent collection, The Things We Lose, The Things We Leave Behind, will be published in Chinese next year, I chose to read the book's title story rather than going with something new.
The real joy of the conference was in renewing some old friendships and forging new ones, but it was over all too quickly. And with the whole immense country beckoning, my travelling companion and I set out on the road. China is an astonishing and, at times, overwhelming experience, such an assault on the senses.
On buses and trains we went a little way west first, to the strange and fascinating water-town of Wuzhen, then all the way north, first to Beijing and then up into Inner Mongolia, delighting in getting to see such a foreign country up close and immersing ourselves, even if just in small ways, in such an immensely different culture. We had burnt days and days of thunderous rain, mosquitoes made a banquet of us, and I ate things that wouldn't get next, nigh or near a plate in Ireland (and at times paid the inevitable price...), in back alleys where we could almost hear the serenade of rats. We also came to understand, if we hadn't already, that people might wear different faces but our hearts all keep to the same hopeful beat.
I am already plotting my next visit...
The real joy of the conference was in renewing some old friendships and forging new ones, but it was over all too quickly. And with the whole immense country beckoning, my travelling companion and I set out on the road. China is an astonishing and, at times, overwhelming experience, such an assault on the senses.
On buses and trains we went a little way west first, to the strange and fascinating water-town of Wuzhen, then all the way north, first to Beijing and then up into Inner Mongolia, delighting in getting to see such a foreign country up close and immersing ourselves, even if just in small ways, in such an immensely different culture. We had burnt days and days of thunderous rain, mosquitoes made a banquet of us, and I ate things that wouldn't get next, nigh or near a plate in Ireland (and at times paid the inevitable price...), in back alleys where we could almost hear the serenade of rats. We also came to understand, if we hadn't already, that people might wear different faces but our hearts all keep to the same hopeful beat.
I am already plotting my next visit...
July 11, 2016
Off to Shanghai
I am beyond excited to be flying out today to Shanghai to read at the 14th International Short Story Conference. My reading is on Wednesday, when I'll be on the platform alongside the New Zealand writer, Frankie McMillan, and China's Asian Booker Prize-winner Su Tong. There is a strong Irish attendance scheduled for this conference, and a lot of fine writers from around the world, so it should be an exciting week.
After Shanghai, I have some travelling planned, and am hoping to possibly even meet up with my new Chinese publisher, so there will be photos and hopefully a few stories to follow in the weeks ahead.
After Shanghai, I have some travelling planned, and am hoping to possibly even meet up with my new Chinese publisher, so there will be photos and hopefully a few stories to follow in the weeks ahead.
April 10, 2016
The Chinese side of me
After a fairly tough couple of years, things have taken a better turn for me lately. First, a few weeks back, I signed with Brandon Books, an imprint of O'Brien Press here in Ireland, for my first novel, 'The Dead House', which will be published in the spring of 2017. And then, just a couple of days ago, I got great news from my agent, Svetlana Pironko (of the Author Rights Agency), that the Chinese translation rights for 'The Things We Lose, the Things We Leave Behind' have sold to CITIC Press Corporation in Beijing.
The thought that my stories will get the chance to escape not only their original language but also their alphabet is just thrilling beyond words!
The thought that my stories will get the chance to escape not only their original language but also their alphabet is just thrilling beyond words!
March 30, 2016
A new novel for 2017!
I've been struggling to keep quiet about this for the past week or so, terrified that something would go wrong, but now that everything is signed and sealed I am thrilled to announce that after three collections of short stories, my first novel, The Dead House, will be published by Brandon Books/O'Brien Press in 2017, with big thanks to the Author Rights Agency.
More to come in the weeks and months ahead, but their enthusiasm for the book so far has made me want to shout from the rooftops how happy I am about this deal!
More to come in the weeks and months ahead, but their enthusiasm for the book so far has made me want to shout from the rooftops how happy I am about this deal!
March 29, 2016
Feeding the Dead - a new story
The Forge Literary Magazine features one story a week and has been putting out some great stuff (by some fine writers) over the past few months. My story, 'Feeding the Dead,' has been waiting patiently since the beginning of the year for its place in the rotation, and its time has finally come:
http://www.forgelitmag.com/flm/2016/0...
http://www.forgelitmag.com/flm/2016/0...
February 17, 2016
On Life as a Writer - interview
Following a nice review of my most recent collection, 'The Things We Lose, The Things We Leave Behind' ( https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... ), the Australian website, WriterfulBooks.com, asked if I'd participate in a fairly comprehensive interview about my writing and my ways of working.
It's now online, and can be read, for any who might be interested, at the following link: http://writerfulbooks.com/billy-ocall...
It's now online, and can be read, for any who might be interested, at the following link: http://writerfulbooks.com/billy-ocall...
December 17, 2015
a short story: 'Last Christmas'
As Christmas draws near, I thought it might be a good idea to post a link to a seasonal story. 'Last Christmas' is an uncollected short story that appeared in the Irish literary journal, Southword, about a year and a half ago.
For anyone who has fifteen minutes going spare and who might be interested in taking a look, it can be read freely online at:
http://www.munsterlit.ie/Southword/Is...
For anyone who has fifteen minutes going spare and who might be interested in taking a look, it can be read freely online at:
http://www.munsterlit.ie/Southword/Is...
