Glen Hirshberg's Blog, page 6
September 14, 2014
Update
While putting the final touches on
Good Girls
, the Motherless Child sequel that I’m turning in later this fall, I've also been returning to my classical ghost story haunting grounds for two long pieces that should be out shortly. First up is the sort-of sequel to “Mr. Dark’s Carnival,” which is called “A Small Part in the Pantomime,” due October 7th in Ellen Datlow’s Nightmare Carnival antho.
Then, right on Halloween, I believe, comes Issue #29 of Dark Discoveries magazine, which will include an even longer and more in-depth interview (if you can imagine such a thing) than the one I did for Ginger Nuts of Horror a few weeks ago,
along with the third in my series of spectral novellas featuring the Collector and his longtime companion, Nadine. That one's called “Hexenhaus.”
It’s a ghost story about a taste…
Then, right on Halloween, I believe, comes Issue #29 of Dark Discoveries magazine, which will include an even longer and more in-depth interview (if you can imagine such a thing) than the one I did for Ginger Nuts of Horror a few weeks ago,
along with the third in my series of spectral novellas featuring the Collector and his longtime companion, Nadine. That one's called “Hexenhaus.”
It’s a ghost story about a taste…
September 6, 2014
Favorite Horror?
[From my August interview with Gingernuts of Horror.]
Q: What is your all-time favourite horror novel, and film?
A: Again. Impossible. But you asked about “favorite” as opposed to best or scariest, so that’s what I’ll try and answer. Film: Either the original John Carpenter “The Fog,” which made me fall all the way into lifelong love with ghost story telling, ghost story atmosphere, lighthouses in fog, static-riddled radio in the middle of the night; or else one of the Val Lewtons—I’m thinking “I Walked With a Zombie” or “Cat People”—for pretty much the same reasons.
Novel? The answer might be different if you said collection or book. But novel? Peter Straub’s If You Could See Me Now would be way up there, for all the reasons mentioned in the film notes above. Ramsey Campbell’s Incarnate, which just plain scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t admire The Haunting of Hill House more, think it’s a masterpiece, but it’s too cold to be my favorite. If I’m picking one? I think I’m going The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which has all the atmosphere, all the storytelling charm (and how), plus astonishing psychological insight—it’s so much more complicated and beautiful and sophisticated a book than people who haven’t read it think—heart, Aristotelean choices, footsteps on cobbled, echoing streets, lost letters, profound consequences, regrets…it’s got it all. - See more at: http://www.gingernutsofhorror.com/5/p...
Q: What is your all-time favourite horror novel, and film?
A: Again. Impossible. But you asked about “favorite” as opposed to best or scariest, so that’s what I’ll try and answer. Film: Either the original John Carpenter “The Fog,” which made me fall all the way into lifelong love with ghost story telling, ghost story atmosphere, lighthouses in fog, static-riddled radio in the middle of the night; or else one of the Val Lewtons—I’m thinking “I Walked With a Zombie” or “Cat People”—for pretty much the same reasons.
Novel? The answer might be different if you said collection or book. But novel? Peter Straub’s If You Could See Me Now would be way up there, for all the reasons mentioned in the film notes above. Ramsey Campbell’s Incarnate, which just plain scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t admire The Haunting of Hill House more, think it’s a masterpiece, but it’s too cold to be my favorite. If I’m picking one? I think I’m going The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which has all the atmosphere, all the storytelling charm (and how), plus astonishing psychological insight—it’s so much more complicated and beautiful and sophisticated a book than people who haven’t read it think—heart, Aristotelean choices, footsteps on cobbled, echoing streets, lost letters, profound consequences, regrets…it’s got it all. - See more at: http://www.gingernutsofhorror.com/5/p...
August 23, 2014
10 Books
Got tagged by that nasty Paul Tremblay to do one of these impossible 10 books that left a lasting impression on me memes. Am I the only one who thinks it would be easier to do 10,000? Right, then, without spending the day in the shelves (although, come to think of it, that sounds fun...), and in no order, and with the caveat that these are TODAY's--or, really, this hour's--10, only:
1. Robert Louis Stevenson-- Treasure Island
2. Ramsey Campbell-- Dark Companions
3. Italo Calvino-- Cosmicomics
4. Ellen Willis-- Beginning to See the Light: Pieces of a decade
5. Federico García Lorca-- Collected Poems/Blood Wedding
6. Harry Crews-- A Feast of Snakes
7. Arthur Machen-- The Great God Pan
8. Julio Cortázar-- The End of the Game
9. Raymond Chandler-- The Long Goodbye
10. Twan Eng Tan-- The Garden of Evening Mists
1. Robert Louis Stevenson-- Treasure Island
2. Ramsey Campbell-- Dark Companions
3. Italo Calvino-- Cosmicomics
4. Ellen Willis-- Beginning to See the Light: Pieces of a decade
5. Federico García Lorca-- Collected Poems/Blood Wedding
6. Harry Crews-- A Feast of Snakes
7. Arthur Machen-- The Great God Pan
8. Julio Cortázar-- The End of the Game
9. Raymond Chandler-- The Long Goodbye
10. Twan Eng Tan-- The Garden of Evening Mists
August 21, 2014
Gingernuts interview
The first of two thorough interviews (on food, board games, soundtracks, favorite horror, Robert Louis Stevenson, my parents, teaching writing, education, process, advice) I've done recently has just gone live:
Gingernuts: We’ll start with some of the easy getting to know you questions. What’s your favourite food?
Glen: Don’t I even get a time of day? Nationality? Anything to narrow this down? Proper chocolate cake rates pretty highly. Proper, as in no goop, the right frosting (buttercream yes, whip cream, God no), very little else. Michigan cherries. Fragrant (but not runny) cheese. Tuscan bread soup. Grilled-onion bagels from the Back Door Bakery, which just burned down, but which is coming back. They swear to me they’re coming back.
Gingernuts: German board games? Why German board games? I don’t think I have ever played one?
Glen: They don’t necessarily have to be German, but I think the Germans started it. There has been a little revolution in board games over the past 25 years or so. The most famous examples would probably be things like Settlers of Cataan or Ticket to Ride (which isn’t German). But the field has seen an explosion of real creativity in terms both of subjects for game play and also game mechanics. With the right friends or family and a long evening, these games are the perfect catalysts for the kind of playful, competitive, laughing, cooperative, fully engaged socializing I like best when I like to socialize. Which, I will admit, is only sometimes…
Read more here >>
Gingernuts: We’ll start with some of the easy getting to know you questions. What’s your favourite food?
Glen: Don’t I even get a time of day? Nationality? Anything to narrow this down? Proper chocolate cake rates pretty highly. Proper, as in no goop, the right frosting (buttercream yes, whip cream, God no), very little else. Michigan cherries. Fragrant (but not runny) cheese. Tuscan bread soup. Grilled-onion bagels from the Back Door Bakery, which just burned down, but which is coming back. They swear to me they’re coming back.
Gingernuts: German board games? Why German board games? I don’t think I have ever played one?
Glen: They don’t necessarily have to be German, but I think the Germans started it. There has been a little revolution in board games over the past 25 years or so. The most famous examples would probably be things like Settlers of Cataan or Ticket to Ride (which isn’t German). But the field has seen an explosion of real creativity in terms both of subjects for game play and also game mechanics. With the right friends or family and a long evening, these games are the perfect catalysts for the kind of playful, competitive, laughing, cooperative, fully engaged socializing I like best when I like to socialize. Which, I will admit, is only sometimes…
Read more here >>
August 17, 2014
Teaching CREW
If you've dropped by this page from time to time, you've probably seen me babble about my CREW project. Now, my just-graduated (and exceptionally talented) former student Jordan Rowe has put together a lovely little short that provides the tidiest explanation possible of what we've been up to. And why we're so proud of it. Curious? Please do check this out >>
August 13, 2014
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent (Holy Shit) Millay, (Edna St. Vincent Millay) explaining--far better than I ever have--why it's more than okay, experiencing art by one's lonesome. And no short jokes once you hit that last line, you nasty former students...
No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me?—
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.
If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wise advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The milk and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!
You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.
Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.
No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me?—
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.
If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wise advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The milk and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!
You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.
Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.
August 12, 2014
Into the Storm
It's hardly a rave--I seriously doubt I will be raving, either, once I see it, though I am absolutely going to see it--but here's Nicolas Rapold in the NEW YORK TIMES, doing a pretty terrific job pinpointing WHY I want to see 'Into the Storm': "'Into the Storm' regales us with voluptuous images of devastation...This film is actually less menacing than marveling...A different breed from 'Twister' (1996), 'Into the Storm' raises a question with its finest shots: Would the painter J.M.W. Turner just make disaster movies today?"
August 9, 2014
Authors VS Readers? The Amazon-Hachette Controversy
From the Last Great Act of Defiance Department, Author Division: yes, it's true, Amazon is a predator, a bully, a scavenger of a culture it has helped to strangle, and yeah, they really want to be the Marketplace of the Universe. The only one. They also apparently haven't actually read any Orwell.
You can read about Authors United v Readers United and the Amazon Orwell slip-up here >>
But banding together to defend Hachette strikes me as the same sort of reactionary folly as collectively deciding that we should all now support and save Barnes & Noble because--after decades of driving independent stores from communities, corporatizing and centralizing selection and event decisions, and enacting all sorts of schemes to direct or dictate reader taste and writers' directions to readers and writers and publishers alike--they ran into an organization that does those things even more ruthlessly, and better.
Hachette is part of a cabal of major publishers who have skewed the industry away from diversity and invention and choice and art and exploration, toward centralization, idolization of the few, deification of the Bookscan line in the most myopic, this-instant sense. They don't care about writing. They don't care about authors. They don't care about readers. They certainly don't care about me, or you. They're right that writing should be worth more. But the truth is, the actual work of creating art has become (maybe always was) so devalued that lots of people feel perfectly justified in not paying for their art at all, but stealing it off their favorite pdf/torrent clearinghouse of choice. The real battle we should unite behind is getting people to recognize that honoring and paying good money for each other's creativity is good for authors, readers, writers, students, parents, teachers, lovers...it's the thing that could save us. Possibly the only thing.
So you all go on waving that flag, you United Authors for Corporate Profits, you United Readers for Cheap Content. I'm going to go write something. And hope somebody somewhere enjoys what I do enough to find some way to acknowledge what I've done by paying me something so I can write more of it.
You can read about Authors United v Readers United and the Amazon Orwell slip-up here >>
But banding together to defend Hachette strikes me as the same sort of reactionary folly as collectively deciding that we should all now support and save Barnes & Noble because--after decades of driving independent stores from communities, corporatizing and centralizing selection and event decisions, and enacting all sorts of schemes to direct or dictate reader taste and writers' directions to readers and writers and publishers alike--they ran into an organization that does those things even more ruthlessly, and better.
Hachette is part of a cabal of major publishers who have skewed the industry away from diversity and invention and choice and art and exploration, toward centralization, idolization of the few, deification of the Bookscan line in the most myopic, this-instant sense. They don't care about writing. They don't care about authors. They don't care about readers. They certainly don't care about me, or you. They're right that writing should be worth more. But the truth is, the actual work of creating art has become (maybe always was) so devalued that lots of people feel perfectly justified in not paying for their art at all, but stealing it off their favorite pdf/torrent clearinghouse of choice. The real battle we should unite behind is getting people to recognize that honoring and paying good money for each other's creativity is good for authors, readers, writers, students, parents, teachers, lovers...it's the thing that could save us. Possibly the only thing.
So you all go on waving that flag, you United Authors for Corporate Profits, you United Readers for Cheap Content. I'm going to go write something. And hope somebody somewhere enjoys what I do enough to find some way to acknowledge what I've done by paying me something so I can write more of it.
August 5, 2014
Joyce Carol Oates ??
T.R.U.E., Week of 8/5, Post #4:
This week's final Round-up post is less a review or a recommendation than a call for conversation:
Someone, please, help me with Joyce Carol Oates.
The thing is, I've tried. For years. Often, and across at least a few of the vast continents of material in that catalog. Always, always, I admire the barely-controlled--but always controlled--splatters of imagery and wild color. I not only concede but applaud the icy insights into deceptively comfortable moments between people who think they know each other. Once or twice (Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
springs immediately to mind, but even then, I have to admit, I liked the movie more; it was kinder, and therefore MORE menacing), I've hit things I came close to loving.
But for me, there's still something missing. Sometimes, yeah, it's the pleasures her plots promise. Sometimes it's anyone I can care about, or just a sense that there's someone in the narrative that Oates cares about. Sometimes, her work really does read, to me, like the writing of someone who needs to come away from the desk, just every now and then. Have a glass of o.j., watch the sunset. Check out "Sharknado," maybe.
Most recently, I tackled Bellefleur, and it is suffused, swamped with sexually repressed and desperate characters, dark hallways, raging storms, a crumbling upstate New York castle, family secrets, a possibly clairvoyant cat. And yet...nothing happens. No one matters, even to each other, in the end, and so they don't to the reader, either. The book stays a 700-page fugue, a blizzard of post-Gothic imagery, beautiful, remote, startling, boring.
Am I wrong? Am I on the wrong Oates continent? Is there a slightly warmer one?
I'm so, so willing to be wrong.
Have at it...
This week's final Round-up post is less a review or a recommendation than a call for conversation:
Someone, please, help me with Joyce Carol Oates.
The thing is, I've tried. For years. Often, and across at least a few of the vast continents of material in that catalog. Always, always, I admire the barely-controlled--but always controlled--splatters of imagery and wild color. I not only concede but applaud the icy insights into deceptively comfortable moments between people who think they know each other. Once or twice (Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
springs immediately to mind, but even then, I have to admit, I liked the movie more; it was kinder, and therefore MORE menacing), I've hit things I came close to loving.
But for me, there's still something missing. Sometimes, yeah, it's the pleasures her plots promise. Sometimes it's anyone I can care about, or just a sense that there's someone in the narrative that Oates cares about. Sometimes, her work really does read, to me, like the writing of someone who needs to come away from the desk, just every now and then. Have a glass of o.j., watch the sunset. Check out "Sharknado," maybe.
Most recently, I tackled Bellefleur, and it is suffused, swamped with sexually repressed and desperate characters, dark hallways, raging storms, a crumbling upstate New York castle, family secrets, a possibly clairvoyant cat. And yet...nothing happens. No one matters, even to each other, in the end, and so they don't to the reader, either. The book stays a 700-page fugue, a blizzard of post-Gothic imagery, beautiful, remote, startling, boring.
Am I wrong? Am I on the wrong Oates continent? Is there a slightly warmer one?
I'm so, so willing to be wrong.
Have at it...
Otis Taylor-- "Look to the Side"
Tuesday Round-up of Everything, Week of 8/5, Post #3:
Otis Taylor-- "Look to the Side"
Listen to it here >>
The blues, for me--like most of the art I love most, in one way or another--has always been about mesmerism, about witching our way free of whatever's behind or coming for or already inside us. Strangely, then, I've gone back and forth on Otis Taylor, who hammers and smooths and slow-boils the blues down to its grooving, mesmeric essence, but sometimes seems to lose the essence in the process. Not this time.
I was playing this track back to back with the Isleys' "Ohio/Machine Gun" medley on my drive home through the baking mid-California cattlenowhere this weekend, and suddenly, 200 miles had evaporated--had winked out of existence--and I wasn't anywhere I knew, just floating, just driving, my work done, my book gone, my summer over, my family and friends far, so far, my life a flickering filament in the asphalt shimmer, a sidelong glance in a rearview mirror.
"If I follow the ocean..." "Look to the side..." I'm not sure, in the end, if listening to this keeps my blues at bay or drives them so deep down in me that I'll never get them out. I just know I don't seem to mind, either way.
Otis Taylor-- "Look to the Side"
Listen to it here >>
The blues, for me--like most of the art I love most, in one way or another--has always been about mesmerism, about witching our way free of whatever's behind or coming for or already inside us. Strangely, then, I've gone back and forth on Otis Taylor, who hammers and smooths and slow-boils the blues down to its grooving, mesmeric essence, but sometimes seems to lose the essence in the process. Not this time.
I was playing this track back to back with the Isleys' "Ohio/Machine Gun" medley on my drive home through the baking mid-California cattlenowhere this weekend, and suddenly, 200 miles had evaporated--had winked out of existence--and I wasn't anywhere I knew, just floating, just driving, my work done, my book gone, my summer over, my family and friends far, so far, my life a flickering filament in the asphalt shimmer, a sidelong glance in a rearview mirror.
"If I follow the ocean..." "Look to the side..." I'm not sure, in the end, if listening to this keeps my blues at bay or drives them so deep down in me that I'll never get them out. I just know I don't seem to mind, either way.
