Nick Mamatas's Blog, page 43

Joel Lane

Author Joel Lane died in his sleep at age 50. That's very young, said the forty-one-year-old blogger! I suppose there were some hints—in this 2011 interview, Lane said Health problems have made creative writing very difficult for me in the last few months, so the immediate priority is to get over that and start writing again.

I only had two brief interactions with them, and neither really went well. He was a leftist, and sometimes the chasm of small differences takes over when leftists talk, and sometimes personal needs take over. At any rate, I was appalled to discover that a publisher from whom I'd purchased one of Lane's short story collections was essentially a fascist, and Lane made excuses along the lines of maybe the guy just loves interviewing fascists. Later, Lane co-edited an anthology dedicated to anti-fascism and anti-racism, and managed to fail to include work from members of groups most often and most immediately the victims of fascism and racism. And Lane made his excuses. All the people who knew him well liked him better, but personally I could always take or leave him. He was a smart enough guy that I always read his comments on ligotti.net and other venues where he'd occasionally post.

Of course, I still bought his fiction either the moment it came out, or the moment I became aware of it! I was turned on to Lane by readingthedark (aka G), who gave me a copy of The Lost District. G is the sort of person who'll buy eight or nine copies of a book to distribute. And I liked the book. A lot. I didn't love it though, not at first. I liked the distressed working-class setting and themes—and the gay material—better than the supernaturalism in the pieces. When I finally got my hands on his novel From Blue to Black, it all started making sense. Partially, it's me: I can't read Joel Lane during daylight savings time. Only when the nights are long and there's mold on the walls and there aren't enough blankets in the world to keep one's limbs warm does he click with me. I actually put down FBtoB and then picked it up again recently, when the clocks went back (fighting against even baby time!) to finish the book. I got Where Furnaces Burn last year, and that is definitely next to read now that the time is both right and horribly wrong.

What I liked about Lane's work is the power of setting and the occasional streak of black humor that sets off the only slightly less dark settings. I saw one obit that called his work "urban fantasy", which should lead to some hysterical meltdowns on Goodreads in a week or two after some poor souls who like books about werewolf boyfriends pick up his work. And it's not quite right anyway—there's nothing fantastical about the supernatural in Lane's work, if that makes sense. It's the anti-fantastic. A very dour magical realism, with all the fabulism bleached out. Blink and you may confuse Lane's weird fiction for his straightahead crime/noir fiction, which is also amazing.

So amazing that Lane was hardly published in any commercial sense. He was a singular writer, and thus doomed. His "mainstream" books came out from Serpent's Tail, which occasionally can get books into the hands of the people, but which most often does not. The Lost District was from Night Shade in that weird moment when the publisher was transitioning from specialty to trade publisher, and did not do well. Other material comes from PS Publishing, a great specialty press that is dedicated to relatively small print runs. It allows for less commercial work to be published, but then again the work is less commercial... Given Lane's vision, maybe any port in a storm would do, and to get the work out there without compromising the texts, publishing compromises must be made. Or maybe I'm just projecting onto a blank screen in a dark and rotten theater located in what was once a bustling downtown neighborhood. Joel Lane was the producing the sort of work that would never be overly popular, but that should be taken seriously by an audience broader than weird fiction aficionados. It's easy enough to find some writer of literary fiction or experimental fiction namedrop Kafka—still! to this day!—and then list a dozen or so epigones, but leave out the far superior Joel Lane because his stuff comes sold between lurid covers, or published in small magazines without university backing.

Read his stuff. I'd start with The Lost District, so it sadly never made it to ebook for you electron purists out there. The paper edition will still be cheap for the next few years though.

Will it All Be ____ Quick Notes from here on in?

No! I promise! Though obviously the content has been flagging here. One major reason, is, of course:


the baby. Who has a book recommendation for you. And if you've already read it, why not review it somewhere online?

To answer the one question everyone always asks: we're getting sufficient sleep, thanks. I was never much of a sleeper anyway, as anyone who has seen my 2am tweets can attest.

I should mention that I've agreed to participate in two Kickstarter anthologies: Winter in the City, and a new one called Cars, Cards, and Carbines, which I am interested in because it's an opportunity to write some short crime fiction. The editor has a brief interview with me here. If these books sound interesting to you, please support them.

I will say that if neither of these take off, I'll turn down subsequent Kickstarter solicitations. Ones where I get paid first and publication is guaranteed, and the crowdfunding is then used for pre-orders and publicity is fine (a in Shotguns v. Cthulhu), but otherwise Kickstarting is really the pits. I'm happy to bang the drum a bit for a project if I love it, but there's a bit too much singing for one's supper involved and expected for these anthos.

Also, when I see some of the other authors lined up for these projects, I do a double take. I have no idea what my reputation is as a writer is these days, but I hope it's something other than "Generally makes his deadlines, and people read his blog so they might click through if he links to the fundraising page." I just have no idea why someone looks at my work and thinks "Great!" and then looks at some of the other authors on these tables of contents and also, apparently, thinks "Great!" and then asks us both for stories. About whom I am speaking I'll leave as an exercise for commenters below.

So there's a little desultory bit of promotion, and confession, all at once. See, my LJ is still the same, even after twelve years!

Tuesday Quick Notes

My day job collection of classic ghost stories set among the bustling marketplaces of Edo Japan, Apparitions, is out now.


And it's hot. If you like supernatural fiction, or Japan, or class struggle, this is your book. And let's show the booktrade that we don't only want ghost stories in Sept and Oct, dammit.

Aspiring writers might want to take my four-week online class on beginnings, middles, and endings.

An actual socialist publication on the limits of the supposedly 'socialist' Obamacare.

So far the baby's favorite songs are "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys and an acoustic cover of "Eyes of a Stranger" by Queensryche. By favorite I mean he doesn't spit up when he hears them.

These eyes are DEATH!!!

Here's a nice baby picture:



Not too much else going on, actually. The loukoumades truck showed up outside the Twitter Building today, so that was pretty neat.

I've also been watching this video:



Horror folks from the 1980s talking about why horror is so popular. Obviously the early 80s if the clothes didn't already give it away! Interesting how so many of them hate Judith Krantz. I wonder what the surviving panelists would say now if asked "Why isn't horror popular?"

And I got this nice notice for Love is the Law, from the online edition of The Daily Californian (a local Cal student paper with distribution around town). It reads, in part:

If you have a choice and if it’s not assigned to you, I suggest you read this and not that; unless you’re devoted to them, do not read Aleister Crowley, Leon Trotsky or Karl Marx. None of them make much sense without a magician to teach you. Instead, read “Love is the Law.” Of course, I've yet to find a Berkeley bookstore that carries it, so feel free to whip out your phone and buy an e-copy somehow from right under the nose of a bookstore clerk if you must.

Wednesday Quick Notes

First, and most important: if you would like a way to send money to the Philippines without going through various middlemen such as the Red Cross, I'd recommend donating directly to the Solidarity Drive of the Labor Party-Philippines. They've published a statement on the issue of the typhoon, development, etc. here.


Let's see, what else is up: I'm in the latest SFSignal MindMeld on the importance of anthologies. As is typical, it seems that I was asked a different set of questions that most other melders. They all got, "Stories are AWWEESSOOOOME! AMIRITE????" instead.

In yet other news, I apparently got the Real-Life Magick Wrong Again!!!!



Writing Love is the Law would have been easier had there only been two people on this planet who have the Real True Real-Life Magick and agreed on what it was or how it worked. You know, like actually existing things.

Still collecting ghost stories over at the dayjob blog, for a chance to win a free book! We're looking for "true" ones, or your faves from literature or folklore!

Dayjob book giveaway!

If you like classic ghost stories, Edo-era Japan, and class struggle, you need a copy of Apparitions by Miyuki Miyabe!

Luckily for you, I am giving away four copies, see?


Sure, you might see five copies, but only four are being given away.

Play the game over at the dayjob blog Haikasoru.com

Authentic Chen Taijiquan in San Francisco

After years of teaching semi-privately, my taiji instructor Henry Wong has agreed to open up his classes to interested parties. To this end, we've created a bare bones website with basic information. If you have an interest in Chinese martial arts or healthy stuff, this might be the class for you. Henry is a 20th-generation lineage holder under the late Gene Chen.

Winter In the City

Winter in the City is a Kickstarted anthology I agreed to participate in because a. I like Marty Halpern and b. diaper money. If you wish to contribute, that would be great. No guarantees about the quality of any other of the stories, but, you know, if you like my stuff my stuff will be in it. I'll write about Manhattan, or Athens, or Oakland, or Glasgow, depending on who calls dibs on what.

Twelve years into LJ...

And I am still occasionally finding active LJs to read that are not just mirrors. Why did none of you tell me about kdotdammit !

Forward to Full Babyism!

The syringe I was given to feed my son supplementary mother's milk:


The syringe I should have been using, and was finally given this afternoon: