Stephen Graham Jones's Blog, page 266
July 6, 2012
Shine Shine Shine
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I knew from the first time I saw the title of this book that I was going to have to consume it, and then I lucked onto an ARC, meaning all I had to do was steal some time from myself. Which, I can be particularly unwatchful when the reading’s good enough. And, here, it is, it was, it would be again. And, like me, I’d guess a lot of you are getting Amazon emails with Lydia Netzer’s Shine Shine Shine at the top of their lists. Deservedly so. There’s a wit here, a lightness of touch, and a continual mulling-over of story that’s compelling. And, rather than excising all my favorite passages, let me just show you how many of those favorite passages there are: That many stars, for me, it’s very unusual. Usually my endpaper notes are littered with question marks and ellipses (these being the ellipses of dissatisfaction . . .) and just plain old X’s. Here, it’s like I’m trying to draw the night sky Sunny’s looking up into, trying to find her Maxon: it’s all stars. Too, the good books, you learn from them, don’t you? You see the tricks going on and you try to steal them. And there’s a lot of stuff here to steal. Not just the way Lydia can flip a line the instant it starts to get sentimental, either. More the way she’s keeping the whole scope of the story in mind, with each scene. It’s good stuff, I’m saying. Also, the good books, you . . . → → →
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I knew from the first time I saw the title of this book that I was going to have to consume it, and then I lucked onto an ARC, meaning all I had to do was steal some time from myself. Which, I can be particularly unwatchful when the reading’s good enough. And, here, it is, it was, it would be again. And, like me, I’d guess a lot of you are getting Amazon emails with Lydia Netzer’s Shine Shine Shine at the top of their lists. Deservedly so. There’s a wit here, a lightness of touch, and a continual mulling-over of story that’s compelling. And, rather than excising all my favorite passages, let me just show you how many of those favorite passages there are: That many stars, for me, it’s very unusual. Usually my endpaper notes are littered with question marks and ellipses (these being the ellipses of dissatisfaction . . .) and just plain old X’s. Here, it’s like I’m trying to draw the night sky Sunny’s looking up into, trying to find her Maxon: it’s all stars. Too, the good books, you learn from them, don’t you? You see the tricks going on and you try to steal them. And there’s a lot of stuff here to steal. Not just the way Lydia can flip a line the instant it starts to get sentimental, either. More the way she’s keeping the whole scope of the story in mind, with each scene. It’s good stuff, I’m saying. Also, the good books, you . . . → → →
June 15, 2012
Dead Man’s Curve
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Man, I know: last week I hit Prometheus, and just did a status update somewhere saying it was decent, it was cool, and now here I am with a non-review of a movie fourteen years old already. Still. This one I want to talk about it for a short bit: 1998. Dan Rosen’s Dead Man’s Curve (on Netflix Instant as The Curve). This is two years after Scream changed the horror scene once and forever. One year after Scream 2 made the sequel legit again. One year after I Know What You Did Last Summer revived a nearly twenty-year-old YA novel, just to cash in on Scream’s success. The same year as The Faculty (Williamson again) and Urban Legend and IKWYDLS’s second installment. All of which is to say that the horror landscape post-Scream, you couldn’t even stand up, there were so many clones. And that’s not at all a bad thing. This makes slasher kind of stuff easy to ramp into production. Pretty soon we’d have Final Destination and its own clone, Soul Survivors. When the box office gets packed with gore like that, then competition breeds desperate escalations, each new film trying to outdo the last, and once the big budgets tail off, then you get true innovation. Stuff like All the Boys Love Mandy Lane. And then a Cabin in the Woods comes along to reset everything, in much the same way Scream did. Near as I can tell, though, by 1998, Dead Man’s Curve (I call it that because of the excellent song, included — all the . . . → → →
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Man, I know: last week I hit Prometheus, and just did a status update somewhere saying it was decent, it was cool, and now here I am with a non-review of a movie fourteen years old already. Still. This one I want to talk about it for a short bit: 1998. Dan Rosen’s Dead Man’s Curve (on Netflix Instant as The Curve). This is two years after Scream changed the horror scene once and forever. One year after Scream 2 made the sequel legit again. One year after I Know What You Did Last Summer revived a nearly twenty-year-old YA novel, just to cash in on Scream’s success. The same year as The Faculty (Williamson again) and Urban Legend and IKWYDLS’s second installment. All of which is to say that the horror landscape post-Scream, you couldn’t even stand up, there were so many clones. And that’s not at all a bad thing. This makes slasher kind of stuff easy to ramp into production. Pretty soon we’d have Final Destination and its own clone, Soul Survivors. When the box office gets packed with gore like that, then competition breeds desperate escalations, each new film trying to outdo the last, and once the big budgets tail off, then you get true innovation. Stuff like All the Boys Love Mandy Lane. And then a Cabin in the Woods comes along to reset everything, in much the same way Scream did. Near as I can tell, though, by 1998, Dead Man’s Curve (I call it that because of the excellent song, included — all the . . . → → →
June 7, 2012
Cage Match II: Fiction & Non-fiction
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Just went to the most excellent lecture-discussion led by David Ulin, with Matthew Zapruder and Rob Roberge and Elizabeth Crane Brandt and Mark Haskell Smith and Tod Godberg chiming in—more people as well, but, you know, you lose track. Not of the talk, though. It was about John D’Agata’s About a Mountain, and the kind-of follow-up/undercut The Lifespan of a Fact, neither of which I’ve hit (so lost in Song of Ice and Fire). But I’m going to now. And, to ramp right off of the actual discussion into where and how it hit me: that other post, where I was talking about why I wrote Growing Up Dead in Texas? None of those were lies. But I realized, during this panel, that that wasn’t quite complete, either. To back up, I’ve had a lot of students and various unsorted people kind of shuffle up to me, and lead in their question or request or whatever with some version of “I know you hate non-fiction, but . . . ” Which is fair. I mean, I wouldn’t say I hate non-fiction, but it’s not what I do, and, starting about ten years ago, I got all highly sensitized to and more than slightly defensive about how non-fiction was encroaching on fiction. But, at the same time, I’ve read some really good non-fiction, and know there’s some great stuff out there waiting to change my life, and, yeah, I’m finally coming around to agree with David Ulin, that calling one thing ‘fiction’ and another ‘non-fiction’ is . . . → → →
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Just went to the most excellent lecture-discussion led by David Ulin, with Matthew Zapruder and Rob Roberge and Elizabeth Crane Brandt and Mark Haskell Smith and Tod Godberg chiming in—more people as well, but, you know, you lose track. Not of the talk, though. It was about John D’Agata’s About a Mountain, and the kind-of follow-up/undercut The Lifespan of a Fact, neither of which I’ve hit (so lost in Song of Ice and Fire). But I’m going to now. And, to ramp right off of the actual discussion into where and how it hit me: that other post, where I was talking about why I wrote Growing Up Dead in Texas? None of those were lies. But I realized, during this panel, that that wasn’t quite complete, either. To back up, I’ve had a lot of students and various unsorted people kind of shuffle up to me, and lead in their question or request or whatever with some version of “I know you hate non-fiction, but . . . ” Which is fair. I mean, I wouldn’t say I hate non-fiction, but it’s not what I do, and, starting about ten years ago, I got all highly sensitized to and more than slightly defensive about how non-fiction was encroaching on fiction. But, at the same time, I’ve read some really good non-fiction, and know there’s some great stuff out there waiting to change my life, and, yeah, I’m finally coming around to agree with David Ulin, that calling one thing ‘fiction’ and another ‘non-fiction’ is . . . → → →
June 6, 2012
Growing Up Dead in Texas updates
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Hey, Growing Up Dead in Texas is an LA Times Beach Read. And also all around. And Goodreads reviews are coming in — thank you, readers, talkers, passers-on. Bob Pastorella‘s writing about it from Texas. Amazon reviews are coming in. And, for the first time the other day, I saw it live in the wild (shipped direct from the printer to Mystery Bookstore): And, the launch party‘s June 12th, 7:30, at: Stories BooksandCafe 1716 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90026
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Hey, Growing Up Dead in Texas is an LA Times Beach Read. And also all around. And Goodreads reviews are coming in — thank you, readers, talkers, passers-on. Bob Pastorella‘s writing about it from Texas. Amazon reviews are coming in. And, for the first time the other day, I saw it live in the wild (shipped direct from the printer to Mystery Bookstore): And, the launch party‘s June 12th, 7:30, at: Stories BooksandCafe 1716 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90026
May 15, 2012
The Croning
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I’ve hit both Laird Barron’s collections, of course — if you’re going to play in the horror fields, his bloody square of grass goes for an acre or two — and, in the way of disclosure, he was kind enough to pen the intro for my first horror collection, and I know and respect him as a quality human besides, so of course I was going to hit The Croning, first chance I got. As for that first chance, though, it got lost in the void, evidently; not even a month before the book hit, one of my other publishers finally forwarded a longago request from Nightshade, to look at The Croning early. At which point it was already printed, ready to ship. So there was all that instant regret, the raging at the gods, I could have hit it then, wouldn’t have had to wait, but, still and all, that wait, it was so worth it. And, as a gauge: the book I read immediately before The Croning was the first in George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series. Which, Charles McCarry’s Paul Christopher series aside — and maybe not aside — is looking to be my favorite series ever in the history of anything, also counting the future. Reading Martin, I don’t want to do anything else. Like eat, or move. Just Kindle me another, please, and it better get here in thirty seconds or less or I’m buying it again, and again. So, yeah, book 2 of that, it’s . . . → → →
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I’ve hit both Laird Barron’s collections, of course — if you’re going to play in the horror fields, his bloody square of grass goes for an acre or two — and, in the way of disclosure, he was kind enough to pen the intro for my first horror collection, and I know and respect him as a quality human besides, so of course I was going to hit The Croning, first chance I got. As for that first chance, though, it got lost in the void, evidently; not even a month before the book hit, one of my other publishers finally forwarded a longago request from Nightshade, to look at The Croning early. At which point it was already printed, ready to ship. So there was all that instant regret, the raging at the gods, I could have hit it then, wouldn’t have had to wait, but, still and all, that wait, it was so worth it. And, as a gauge: the book I read immediately before The Croning was the first in George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series. Which, Charles McCarry’s Paul Christopher series aside — and maybe not aside — is looking to be my favorite series ever in the history of anything, also counting the future. Reading Martin, I don’t want to do anything else. Like eat, or move. Just Kindle me another, please, and it better get here in thirty seconds or less or I’m buying it again, and again. So, yeah, book 2 of that, it’s . . . → → →
Video Review of Growing Up Dead in Texas
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by Caleb J. Ross:
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by Caleb J. Ross:
May 10, 2012
Couple cool things
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New story up at DIN, “Secret Maps” (they’re the best kind). More stories soon, too, in excellentcool places. June will be all linky. “The Ones Who Got Away” made it on/to EWN’s Short Story Month. My weird flowhcart at Weird Fiction Review is all BoingBoing‘d up, thanks to Cory Doctorow. And I made Ann and Jeff Vandermeer’s top 13 weirdest stories of the century, over at The Huffington Post. Growing Up Dead in Texas is e-vailable, at least on Amazon. Paper copies June 12th (plural on copies because you’ll want a clutch of them of course, and then some more just to wing at birds). Tour schedule’s stacking up for it, too. California, Oregon, Washington, Texas, Kansas, Massachusetts maybe, New York. I think the schedule’s going to be posted at MP. Or maybe it already is. And, launch party: 12 June, 7:30pm Stories BooksandCafe 1716 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90026 RSVP at the Facebook event, if you want. Or just show up in a bathrobe with your hair going every which way, a martini glass in-hand, your eyes focused on some distance the rest of don’t have access to. And, I put the Growing Up Dead in Texas blurbs up on its page, here. Joe R. Lansdale, Lidia Yuknavitch, and Craig Clevenger. Kind of a dream team, or at least who I want on my side should the zombies come knocking and moaning. Also, many book contracts in the works right now. More on that later. Also also: the only thing I want to do . . . → → →
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New story up at DIN, “Secret Maps” (they’re the best kind). More stories soon, too, in excellentcool places. June will be all linky. “The Ones Who Got Away” made it on/to EWN’s Short Story Month. My weird flowhcart at Weird Fiction Review is all BoingBoing‘d up, thanks to Cory Doctorow. And I made Ann and Jeff Vandermeer’s top 13 weirdest stories of the century, over at The Huffington Post. Growing Up Dead in Texas is e-vailable, at least on Amazon. Paper copies June 12th (plural on copies because you’ll want a clutch of them of course, and then some more just to wing at birds). Tour schedule’s stacking up for it, too. California, Oregon, Washington, Texas, Kansas, Massachusetts maybe, New York. I think the schedule’s going to be posted at MP. Or maybe it already is. And, launch party: 12 June, 7:30pm Stories BooksandCafe 1716 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90026 RSVP at the Facebook event, if you want. Or just show up in a bathrobe with your hair going every which way, a martini glass in-hand, your eyes focused on some distance the rest of don’t have access to. And, I put the Growing Up Dead in Texas blurbs up on its page, here. Joe R. Lansdale, Lidia Yuknavitch, and Craig Clevenger. Kind of a dream team, or at least who I want on my side should the zombies come knocking and moaning. Also, many book contracts in the works right now. More on that later. Also also: the only thing I want to do . . . → → →
May 9, 2012
The Promise of Werewolves
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Man, where to start. How about with John Mellencamp: When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand “Rain on the Scarecrow” came out in 1985, the year Growing Up Dead in Texas happens. Or, that’s when the events happen. Right around that time I remember walking the fence with my great-granddad, Pop. A hot fence, to keep the cattle out of the ten acres my grandma’s house was (and is) on. And I knew it was hot by then, of course; I’d been zapped a few times, sneaking out there to chase whatever animals I could scare up. But still, Pop, he held his hand out to me, a particularly evil glimmer in his eyes, a smile ghosting the corners of his mouth up — he had to have been at least eighty, then — and I took his hand, and he smiled, clamped his other hand onto the fence, shooting that jolt across to me. And then we did it again and again, because it was so fun. I think in everything I do, that jolt, it’s what I’m looking for. From old phone generators to neon hotel signs, I’ve shocked myself in so many ways. I remember pulling a fertilizer rig back and forth across an irrigated field one day — which is about the most boring thing you can do — when I started to nod off, but then figured out how to stay awake: I could stop the tractor, climb down, and pop a sparkplug wire . . . → → →
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Man, where to start. How about with John Mellencamp: When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand “Rain on the Scarecrow” came out in 1985, the year Growing Up Dead in Texas happens. Or, that’s when the events happen. Right around that time I remember walking the fence with my great-granddad, Pop. A hot fence, to keep the cattle out of the ten acres my grandma’s house was (and is) on. And I knew it was hot by then, of course; I’d been zapped a few times, sneaking out there to chase whatever animals I could scare up. But still, Pop, he held his hand out to me, a particularly evil glimmer in his eyes, a smile ghosting the corners of his mouth up — he had to have been at least eighty, then — and I took his hand, and he smiled, clamped his other hand onto the fence, shooting that jolt across to me. And then we did it again and again, because it was so fun. I think in everything I do, that jolt, it’s what I’m looking for. From old phone generators to neon hotel signs, I’ve shocked myself in so many ways. I remember pulling a fertilizer rig back and forth across an irrigated field one day — which is about the most boring thing you can do — when I started to nod off, but then figured out how to stay awake: I could stop the tractor, climb down, and pop a sparkplug wire . . . → → →
Growing Up Dead in Texas playlist
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I tried so hard to make a YouTube playlist for Growing Up Dead in Texas. Songs that are in the book and songs that kind of encompass the book. But it wasn’t meant to be; the songs I needed can’t be included in playlists. So, in lieu, I’ll put them all here, in the order that feels right — or, how they happen (for me) in the book. And this first one, it breaks my heart every time, but it always puts it all back together, too: ( there’s an ad on this one, sorry. but the video’s cool ) (the truck I’ve got now’s the same year as the one in this very excellent video — it feels like home) ( I can’t even sing along with this one )
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I tried so hard to make a YouTube playlist for Growing Up Dead in Texas. Songs that are in the book and songs that kind of encompass the book. But it wasn’t meant to be; the songs I needed can’t be included in playlists. So, in lieu, I’ll put them all here, in the order that feels right — or, how they happen (for me) in the book. And this first one, it breaks my heart every time, but it always puts it all back together, too: ( there’s an ad on this one, sorry. but the video’s cool ) (the truck I’ve got now’s the same year as the one in this very excellent video — it feels like home) ( I can’t even sing along with this one )
May 1, 2012
Few things posting
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New interview’s live up at Curiouser and Curiouser. New story, “Dedication,” up at Smokelong. It’s the first story for Short Story Month, too. So cool. “Why I Write” is live at Stymie. I lucked onto Adam Cesares’ Daily Grindhouse list. Couple more places got ahold of Zombie Bake-Off in the most wonderful way: Booked Podcast and Chizine‘s Chioroscuro. And, another interview’s live on Monday. Or, in a mag — but maybe live. And cool. And secret for now. And, Growing Up Dead in Texas: e-book’s out on the 12th, here. Paper a month after that.
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New interview’s live up at Curiouser and Curiouser. New story, “Dedication,” up at Smokelong. It’s the first story for Short Story Month, too. So cool. “Why I Write” is live at Stymie. I lucked onto Adam Cesares’ Daily Grindhouse list. Couple more places got ahold of Zombie Bake-Off in the most wonderful way: Booked Podcast and Chizine‘s Chioroscuro. And, another interview’s live on Monday. Or, in a mag — but maybe live. And cool. And secret for now. And, Growing Up Dead in Texas: e-book’s out on the 12th, here. Paper a month after that.
