Nick Mamatas's Blog, page 26
December 8, 2014
Christmas Horrors
Every year, a couple of people ask me to sign a book as a gift for a relative or friend. In years past, I've dipped into my supply of author or contributor copies and did the mailing myself, which was nice (though also naughty) as I'd get the money from selling the books, and someone else would get a book they didn't even know they wanted—or perhaps actually didn't want! Anyway, I'm pretty much out of books, and some people want anthologies signed, and I've never had many copies of those.
So, if you're interested in anything like that—say, a copy of The Nickronomicon—I've gone down to Borderlands Books in San Francisco. They have an email address and a toll free number and can get pretty much anything. Just tell them what you want, including if you want an inscription or a thumb print or a lock of my hair from me, and I'll head over (it's just one BART stop away from work) and take care of it.
Thanks!
In semi-related news, here is a brief Q/A with me about writing and editing and stuff.
So, if you're interested in anything like that—say, a copy of The Nickronomicon—I've gone down to Borderlands Books in San Francisco. They have an email address and a toll free number and can get pretty much anything. Just tell them what you want, including if you want an inscription or a thumb print or a lock of my hair from me, and I'll head over (it's just one BART stop away from work) and take care of it.
Thanks!
In semi-related news, here is a brief Q/A with me about writing and editing and stuff.
Berkeley Nights
Olivia has a religious friend who invited us to her church to listen to a presentation of Christmas carols. We went, and the singing was fairly accomplished, though mostly we were in the lobby with a restless Oliver and some other parents and their too-young children. When we left, it was to the sound of helicopters overhead. Olivia said how interesting it was that the minister had mentioned Jesus coming to heal a "broken world" only for us to walk outside and immediately experience that broken world.
Later, while I was walking the dog, I saw the anti-police violence demonstration come up. I stuck around outside for a while and then later decided that I'd follow and try to catch up to see what's happening. I had my phone and took some pictures. See?
Even years ago when I was more fully involved in street politics, I always felt a little alienated from the goings-on. Partially I was preparing to become a writer even then, and always thinking "What am I feeling right now? Why am I afraid, or brave, or confused? What does everyone look like? How can I use this?" Partially, street politics can devolve into nonsensical battles over inches, symbols, and moments. We held the street for X hours, stopped one shipment of Y for Z days, have taken over a building here for N months! But then...
And partially, well, there's a great line in the Howard Waldrop story "Thirty Minutes Over Broadway!" that goes something like "I take a long view on merely territorial conflicts."
Anyway, I have a Storify of the evening's tweets and pics if you're interested.
Later, while I was walking the dog, I saw the anti-police violence demonstration come up. I stuck around outside for a while and then later decided that I'd follow and try to catch up to see what's happening. I had my phone and took some pictures. See?
Time to mobilize, eh? And they say irony is dead. pic.twitter.com/niG1UMhefD
— Nick Mamatas (@NMamatas) December 8, 2014
Even years ago when I was more fully involved in street politics, I always felt a little alienated from the goings-on. Partially I was preparing to become a writer even then, and always thinking "What am I feeling right now? Why am I afraid, or brave, or confused? What does everyone look like? How can I use this?" Partially, street politics can devolve into nonsensical battles over inches, symbols, and moments. We held the street for X hours, stopped one shipment of Y for Z days, have taken over a building here for N months! But then...
And partially, well, there's a great line in the Howard Waldrop story "Thirty Minutes Over Broadway!" that goes something like "I take a long view on merely territorial conflicts."
Anyway, I have a Storify of the evening's tweets and pics if you're interested.
December 6, 2014
New Fatherhood Achievement
Baby grabbed my cellphone, got it into the toilet somehow. It's resting in a bed of rice to dry out.
Not much to report other than amazement and appreciation at the anti-police violence protests across the country. I did manage to join one briefly last night–the mid-Market section of SF was all party dresses and riot helmets as protestors met dot.commers on the way to their office holiday parties. I was pleased to switch sides.
(Also, the food at the party was underwhelming, and I actually left early to go to Super Duper Burgers instead, plus I had to get home to Opie. But I squeezed everything in and was the last person home before the trains stopped.)
PS: Telereads reviewed The Nickronomicon, writing in part:
This is definitely Lovecraftian fiction amply well equipped to survive in the post-modern post-WFA-trophy-redaction-controversy era, crafted in prose so knowing and self-aware it could pass a Turing Test, but any doubts as to its creative posture (or ideology) can immediately be stilled by its brilliant construction. Mamatas is very good at endings. Extremely. The kind that bring together all the threads in a tale and tie it off with a twist sharp enough to snap your vertebrae. The concluding “On the Occasion of My Retirement” is an especially fine example, with its simple everyday little narrative of (spoilation ahead) … a just-former tenured Professor of Semiotics, of color, at Miskatonic University, dismissed over a sexual harassment suit and transitioned, courtesy of a cultish statuette and murderous ex-colleagues (and ex’s), to godhead via anthood and an associated sex change. There, didn’t that just roll off the tongue? Believe me, it’s weird, whacky and wonderful shit, calculated to wean any reader off the black meat of Brazilian centipedes and onto more fungoid delicacies. Recommended.
Not much to report other than amazement and appreciation at the anti-police violence protests across the country. I did manage to join one briefly last night–the mid-Market section of SF was all party dresses and riot helmets as protestors met dot.commers on the way to their office holiday parties. I was pleased to switch sides.
(Also, the food at the party was underwhelming, and I actually left early to go to Super Duper Burgers instead, plus I had to get home to Opie. But I squeezed everything in and was the last person home before the trains stopped.)
PS: Telereads reviewed The Nickronomicon, writing in part:
This is definitely Lovecraftian fiction amply well equipped to survive in the post-modern post-WFA-trophy-redaction-controversy era, crafted in prose so knowing and self-aware it could pass a Turing Test, but any doubts as to its creative posture (or ideology) can immediately be stilled by its brilliant construction. Mamatas is very good at endings. Extremely. The kind that bring together all the threads in a tale and tie it off with a twist sharp enough to snap your vertebrae. The concluding “On the Occasion of My Retirement” is an especially fine example, with its simple everyday little narrative of (spoilation ahead) … a just-former tenured Professor of Semiotics, of color, at Miskatonic University, dismissed over a sexual harassment suit and transitioned, courtesy of a cultish statuette and murderous ex-colleagues (and ex’s), to godhead via anthood and an associated sex change. There, didn’t that just roll off the tongue? Believe me, it’s weird, whacky and wonderful shit, calculated to wean any reader off the black meat of Brazilian centipedes and onto more fungoid delicacies. Recommended.
December 3, 2014
Don't Let Them Kill You
Obviously, this is futile as the cops can just shoot you instead, but I just had to post something. So sick of it all.
November 30, 2014
Back in town
We were in Florida, as I may have mentioned. But did I mention that we were deep in Bray Wyatt territory?
Literally.
It was fun. Fairly relaxing, though relaxing in that I-gotta-get-stuff-done-when-I-get-back relaxing way. Baby is a real road warrior for the most part as well.
Literally.
It was fun. Fairly relaxing, though relaxing in that I-gotta-get-stuff-done-when-I-get-back relaxing way. Baby is a real road warrior for the most part as well.
November 27, 2014
I like the parade...
...but #stoptheparade.
November 25, 2014
Links
I'm sure you all have access to the same links I do about the grand jury decision, so I won't bore you with them.
Instead, my latest short story, the Web publication of which I thought to delay, but as the book version has been out for the whole month, here is Bad Day at Black Bloc.
I also have an essay up at the Los Angeles Review of Books, conceptualizing Lovecraft as a "difficult writer": The Real Mr. Difficult, or Why Cthulhu Threatens to Destroy the Canon, Self-Interested Literary Essayists, and the Universe Itself. Finally. Bonus Franzen-bashing at the link.
Instead, my latest short story, the Web publication of which I thought to delay, but as the book version has been out for the whole month, here is Bad Day at Black Bloc.
I also have an essay up at the Los Angeles Review of Books, conceptualizing Lovecraft as a "difficult writer": The Real Mr. Difficult, or Why Cthulhu Threatens to Destroy the Canon, Self-Interested Literary Essayists, and the Universe Itself. Finally. Bonus Franzen-bashing at the link.
November 24, 2014
Tonight's announcement
I am in Florida. We took the baby to the zoo. On the numbers, Oliver is very unlikely to be shot and killed by a police officer.
For the sake of argument, I am happy to say that I have no idea what happened that fateful day in Missouri. I do know, however that indictments are very easy to get, unless the DA doesn't want to get one, and one way to help that desire become reality is an evidence dump. Generally, grand juries get a lovingly crafted and polished story that almost always leads to an indictment. (This has problems of its own, but that's theoretically why there are trials.)
I also tweeted about Obama's speech, which made zero sense given conditions...unless like Obama, you're the President of the United States and thus heavily invested in the system. This somehow still surprised people, despite all the claims of world-weariness and cynical appraisals of the DA/police et al and appeals to systemic issues. Systems sort people into leaders, functionaries, products, and waste materials after all.
Tempted to close comments since I am on vacation, but nobody reads LJ anymore anyway. I have a new essay and a story coming out--I'll link to them tomorrow.
For the sake of argument, I am happy to say that I have no idea what happened that fateful day in Missouri. I do know, however that indictments are very easy to get, unless the DA doesn't want to get one, and one way to help that desire become reality is an evidence dump. Generally, grand juries get a lovingly crafted and polished story that almost always leads to an indictment. (This has problems of its own, but that's theoretically why there are trials.)
I also tweeted about Obama's speech, which made zero sense given conditions...unless like Obama, you're the President of the United States and thus heavily invested in the system. This somehow still surprised people, despite all the claims of world-weariness and cynical appraisals of the DA/police et al and appeals to systemic issues. Systems sort people into leaders, functionaries, products, and waste materials after all.
Tempted to close comments since I am on vacation, but nobody reads LJ anymore anyway. I have a new essay and a story coming out--I'll link to them tomorrow.
November 18, 2014
So! Many! Links!
The Nickronomicon is out today and shipping/downloading from all the major e-tailers.
You know how one is now expected to write an essay or two when a new book comes out? Here's mine on why I write Lovecraftian fiction despite the fact that Lovecraft was a racist clown.
Over at the day job, the raunchiest, weirdest, thriller we ever published, Asura Girl is out! Check it out. And you know how when a new book comes out, one is expected to run a giveaway contest? We're doing one; just write a brief essay on the wildest book you've ever read, and you can be one of four winners.
Phew, and it's not even 9am yet.
You know how one is now expected to write an essay or two when a new book comes out? Here's mine on why I write Lovecraftian fiction despite the fact that Lovecraft was a racist clown.
Over at the day job, the raunchiest, weirdest, thriller we ever published, Asura Girl is out! Check it out. And you know how when a new book comes out, one is expected to run a giveaway contest? We're doing one; just write a brief essay on the wildest book you've ever read, and you can be one of four winners.
Phew, and it's not even 9am yet.
November 14, 2014
Friday Quick Notes
Amazon Prime members and other die-hards, rejoice (or not): The Nickronomicon can now be pre-ordered in its paperback form on that site. Knock yourself out.
If you don't like Amazon, there's a better place to e-order my UK-only novel The Last Weekend: Cemetery Dance has copies! Go buy 'em.
Kameron Hurley has a good post on trolls and trolling, and nails one thing I've always found perplexing:
And to be blisteringly honest, standing up and telling a troll how much their behavior destroyed you – when most trolls are actually sadists, people who take joy in the misery and harm of another – is REALLY giving them what they want. “This abuse destroyed me!” is like a rallying cry on some dudebro message boards to redouble their efforts. “Fuck yeah mission accomplished!” I can practically hear them every time I see some online confessional about another pro leaving the internet because of harassment.
I liked this Earth First! piece about an intervention at a Portland, Oregon Death in June show, and the rise of hipster-fascism. My two favorite bits:
The crowd responded to my sermon on the subject rather lethargically, until one intelligent-looking fellow blurted out “Situationism!” One method that DIJ’s apologists use to shirk accountability for advocating a “left-wing Nazism” is to present platitudes about artistic freedom and the free-floating games of signifiers deployed by Situationists and denizens of punk rock’s more obscure archives.
And this one here:
One lady of color dressed in Goth attire shouted at the crowd of antifascists, “Why are you protesting here when you don’t do anything about immigration?” I responded that I have personally marched alongside immigrants and Indigenous people against corrupt law enforcement, white supremacists, and immigration policies. In fact, I’ve been pepper sprayed by police on two of those occasions.
An awkward silence ensued, as we searched each other’s eyes for a way to rise above that which obstructed us from being friends, and then she began to dance, ecstatic on the sidewalk under the lights of the marquee. When she filed into the theater, somewhat more subdued, her heavily mascaraed eye fixed on me through the poster bills and fliers taped to the window-doors, and an inconsolable, abject space of both distance and connection stirred in me.
The Pacific Northwest is full of this sort of stuff. A somewhat stifling middle-class moralism will always lead to some kind of antinomian response, and in a left-wing milieu the response zooms to the right. I like Cameron Pierce a lot, and love many of the books by his mustache-joke publisher but hate the name. As far as my CV is concerned, I sold a short story to LF Review, not "Lazy Fascist" Review. (Note, I am not saying that Cameron or LF authors are "hipster fascists"; it's just very easy to make a profound semiological mistake in a politically confused environment.)
If this all sounds over the top, it's worth noting that even MSNBC had a semi-cozy interview with a KKK leader this week, giving him air to express his views and make his points without only marginal barking back at him. For the frogs in the pot, the water is beginning to warm.
I am now totally into cod liver oil. I drink a capful each morning when I come in to work.
If you don't like Amazon, there's a better place to e-order my UK-only novel The Last Weekend: Cemetery Dance has copies! Go buy 'em.
Kameron Hurley has a good post on trolls and trolling, and nails one thing I've always found perplexing:
And to be blisteringly honest, standing up and telling a troll how much their behavior destroyed you – when most trolls are actually sadists, people who take joy in the misery and harm of another – is REALLY giving them what they want. “This abuse destroyed me!” is like a rallying cry on some dudebro message boards to redouble their efforts. “Fuck yeah mission accomplished!” I can practically hear them every time I see some online confessional about another pro leaving the internet because of harassment.
I liked this Earth First! piece about an intervention at a Portland, Oregon Death in June show, and the rise of hipster-fascism. My two favorite bits:
The crowd responded to my sermon on the subject rather lethargically, until one intelligent-looking fellow blurted out “Situationism!” One method that DIJ’s apologists use to shirk accountability for advocating a “left-wing Nazism” is to present platitudes about artistic freedom and the free-floating games of signifiers deployed by Situationists and denizens of punk rock’s more obscure archives.
And this one here:
One lady of color dressed in Goth attire shouted at the crowd of antifascists, “Why are you protesting here when you don’t do anything about immigration?” I responded that I have personally marched alongside immigrants and Indigenous people against corrupt law enforcement, white supremacists, and immigration policies. In fact, I’ve been pepper sprayed by police on two of those occasions.
An awkward silence ensued, as we searched each other’s eyes for a way to rise above that which obstructed us from being friends, and then she began to dance, ecstatic on the sidewalk under the lights of the marquee. When she filed into the theater, somewhat more subdued, her heavily mascaraed eye fixed on me through the poster bills and fliers taped to the window-doors, and an inconsolable, abject space of both distance and connection stirred in me.
The Pacific Northwest is full of this sort of stuff. A somewhat stifling middle-class moralism will always lead to some kind of antinomian response, and in a left-wing milieu the response zooms to the right. I like Cameron Pierce a lot, and love many of the books by his mustache-joke publisher but hate the name. As far as my CV is concerned, I sold a short story to LF Review, not "Lazy Fascist" Review. (Note, I am not saying that Cameron or LF authors are "hipster fascists"; it's just very easy to make a profound semiological mistake in a politically confused environment.)
If this all sounds over the top, it's worth noting that even MSNBC had a semi-cozy interview with a KKK leader this week, giving him air to express his views and make his points without only marginal barking back at him. For the frogs in the pot, the water is beginning to warm.
I am now totally into cod liver oil. I drink a capful each morning when I come in to work.
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