Su Zi's Review of "Women in Independent Publishing" from New Mexico Press

 

We know that the destruction of a library is a crime against humanity. Even a simple Siri search describes such atrocities as “a way to erase a culture’s history and identity”, and, of course, mentions Alexandria. Those of us not suffering from cultural amnesia might recall news images of dumpsters full of books as libraries were required somehow to destroy entire collections. Memes of flames and swastikas were not an unusual accompaniment. In such a climate, the esteemed University of New Mexico Press published Women in Independent Publishing, a decade long firsthand research project executively produced by Stephanie Anderson. The area of greatest scholarship regards Zine History, an aspect of the literary community that ought to be rightfully revered.

The work is an inch-thick, trade-sized tome that is, frankly, a work of feminist scholarship that ought to be among the new acquisitions for any feminist collection that hasn’t yet been set on fire. Reading the book backwards, the Index alone spans seventeen pages, that includes a heading called “chapbooks[...]rebellious nature of publishing,347-48” (409). Also, most deliciously and impressively is a ten-page bibliography that ought to look lip-licking to any woman’s studies program not already disbanded.

The text itself is introduced with a thirty-page essay, followed by a series of interviews of women who were editing poetry publications during the second half of the twentieth century. This would seem to be an ordinary and interesting sidewalk tour of literary history, if every single premise in the work were not under recent legal human rights attacks. Within the text itself, Margarat Randall states “The cultural blockade, after all, was as important as its economic and military counterparts” (63).  A reader might think she speaks of somewhere in our moment, except she speaks of Cuba and 1963.

Anderson organizes the work by a lineage-- she begins with a refutation of the agreed upon text by Grove, as is standard scholarly procedure. She then proceeds with an onslaught of people and texts that would give glee to any poetry geek...again crucial information to rebuilding libraries. There’s a mention of a collaboration with Anais Nin (3) on a now rare title called “Two Cities” ; overt reference to the work of Alice Notley, and repeated reference to the exclusion and under representation of women, “women used publishing in various ways to push against the sexism and misogyny of literary scenes writ large”(5)-- a tactic also used a generation before so that women could merely vote.

Dismissal of women as critical artists is a reoccurring theme here, often motivating the subjects of the interviews to publish periodicals. In her interview, Susan Sherman makes an interesting remark about poets publishing poets, especially women writers or artists overall, “It’s really very dangerous to depend on someone else to make serious choices, both about your work, and about your life, for that matter” (117) , and makes much mention of collaboration with painters and musicians. 

The work repeatedly discusses technical duties in production and production details and predates the ubiquitousness of computers by decades. There are multiple mentions of group collation meetings, physical typing of manuscripts onto duplicatable sheets called mimeo that smelled and faded, before the ordinary use of copy machines. It was “physically building books” (C.D. Wright interview, 273).  The body of the text concludes with a prose poem by Lee Ann Brown that includes “and that liberation of putting writing into print and changing margins and typefaces probably greatly enabled the possibility of making books” (336).

The crucial nature of this text cannot be overstated, but also its pleasure: among those interviewed might be someone we know, or might have met, or whose edited publication we admire, or who we have read. The value of the work as a reference regarding poetry cannot be overstated, nor can its value as a reference regarding feminism of the second half of the twentieth century. Maybe that’s why it’s so dangerous. The work is a dense reference of information related to all that touched women’s lives during those decades, of publications now rare and valuable, of a compendium of research for rebuilding a history currently under culturicide. 

Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.

                     

Check out her author page on Amazon.

GAS Featured Poet: John Yamrus

 

John Yamrus is widely recognized as master of minimalism and the neo-noir in modern poetry. In a career spanning more than 50 years as a working writer, he has had more than 3,500 poems published in books, magazines and anthologies around the world. His writing is often taught in college and university courses. Three of his more than 40 books have been published in translation.  His newest book of poems is DON’T SHOOT THE MESSENGER: JUST GIVE HIM A GOOD PLACE TO HIDE. 

for Tony it was

 

all 60s music...

Archie Bell And The Drells...

 

The Stones...

 

Smokey...

 

that 

was all he 

needed to get right. 

 

that, and 

his little dog Tail. 

 

Tail 

didn’t have any. 

He also didn’t have a back leg.   

 

Tony 

didn’t care.  

Neither did Tail. 

 

and they’d 

sit out back, and 

listen to music and drink beer.

 

Tail 

did, too.  

he’d get a 

splash in his bowl 

a couple times a day and 

loved it just as much as Tony did.  

 

for 

Tail and Tony 

it never got any better than that.  

 

it didn’t have to.

 

 

Gedda’s was

 

this little 

shot and beer joint 

our parents used to take us to 

 

when 

we were kids. 

me and my sister.

 

i was 

maybe 5 and 

we’d sit with them 

at the end of the bar and 

Mrs. G would give us nickels 

 

that we’d 

put in the machine 

to get those red pistachios 

 

and 

my father 

showed us how 

to tip the machine 

and turn the crank real slow 

 

to get the most out of it 

 

and 

they’d sit 

and talk and drink 

 

and 

i know 

it had to be 

the afternoon 

because i remember 

the light coming in from the street 

 

and 

it was red 

because of the glass 

 

and 

so were 

our hands 

from the nuts 

 

and 

they were 

probably drunk 

 

when 

we left, 

because it was 1956 

and that was what you did 

 

when 

you had a 

couple of bucks 

 

and 

a day off 

 

and 

no one there 

to watch the kids.

 

 

GAS Featured Poet: Stephen Philip Druce

Stephen Philip Druce is an eclectic poet

from Shrewsbury in the UK. He is published

in the UK, the USA, Hungary, South Africa,

Ireland, Canada and India. He has also 

written for London Theater plays and BBC

Radio 4 Extra. Contact Stephen on Instagram

@StephenPhilipDruce 

WHERE THE MUSIC DROWNED

The sunsets played their violins -

the alley cats on double bass,

the tree tops plucked on mandolins -

the night time trumpets knew their place,

the street lamps sang in baritone -

the lemon pipes - a crooning yellow,

hurricanes blew saxophones -

a distant thunder played piano,

the rescue sirens added flute -

the snowflakes danced to drum machines,

the clocks in key - they followed suit -

as beating suns shook tambourines,

the midnight chimneys harmonized -

the echo bridges whistled tunes,

the rain guitars electrified the dogs

to bark through cloud bassoons,

a scarecrow wind of castanets -

a rodent busked the underground,

the moon it dropped a clarinet -

in a river where the music drowned.

PLANET MORDAZIUM

On planet Mordazium,

circling flesh machines

grind their juggernaut

limbs like cathedral

castanets,

sea dragon sequels

stiffen fairy tale drunkards

in a meditation froth of

cross legged swamps,

railroad slingshots flame

bedlam vipers into

the sullen gut of

sun goose passageways,

in a reptilian symmetry,

iron messengers drift

through reservoir centuries -

under wishbone bridges

of surrendered skin,

in a timeless fruit wizardry,

carnival veins scuffle 

in a syrupy resurrection

of merry leaf intricacy,

below the cunning wheat,

overthinking clock hands

conceal slow-burning villains

in a trapdoor composure of

bladed tranquility,

as headless servants

buckle in a honeydew 

of squalid chance.

Homage to Richard Kostelanetz: Artist and Writer

Richard Kostelanetz is an American artist and writer. His interests, primarily directed at language in any literary form, have led him to work with the most diverse media, with an extensive bibliography of critical publications and acclaimed articles. He graduated from Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island and Columbia University in New York City, later studying at King’s College London with a Fulbright Scholarship in 1965/66. He began his literary career writing essays in such journals as the Partisan Review and The Hudson Review, both devoted to the arts, and later writing for New York Times Magazine. Relentlessly experimental and productive, he founded Assembling Press in 1970, his first publishing house dedicated to disseminating new ideas and styles in literature. Of anarcho-libertarian ideals, Kostelanez was a significant figure in the New York avant-garde scene, participating in it with his radical output and doing considerable work as a critic and editor of numerous anthologies. In 1970, he published Manifestos, followed by the experimental novel In the Beginning (Abyss, 1971), entirely centered on the letters of the alphabet. Both publications paved the way for varied research on visual poetry, focusing on the linguistic potential of number sequences and visual alliterations and especially aimed at overturning traditional structures of comprehension and reading. Thoroughly exploring the expressive potential of technologies and innovative media, he has worked with tape recordings, computer installations, audiovisual pieces, and literary holographs. Parallel to this extensive research, Kostelanez published numerous critical texts, such as The End of Intelligent Writing: Literary Politics in America (Sheed and Ward, 1974), A Dictionary of the Avant-Gardes (Routledge, 1993), and SoHo: The Rise and Fall of an Artists’ Colony (Routledge, 2003)—essential volumes and intimate records for art-historical research. Kostelanez is also an outstanding collector of printed matter. His “Wordship,” a 7,000-square-foot space in Brooklyn, includes an exceptional holding of rare books, films, audio recordings, drawings, visual poems, and artworks accessible to the public as a proper bookstore once a week. For his work, Kostelanez has received countless awards from, among others, the Guggenheim Foundation (1967), the Fund for Investigative Journalism (1981), the National Endowment for the Arts (ten individual awards through 1991), and the Pollock-Krasner Foundation (2001).

Find Books by Richard Kostelanetz books here and here

REJOINDERS/

\COMEBACKS 2

Translated by Richard Kostelanetz

 

By some measures, this tight form represents the epitome of concise wit of several kinds.

Do they constitute a discreet literary genre?

One measure of the integrity of a literary genre is that things can be said in it as in no other.

Odd it is that stories that are translated by me from many languages into English cannot be successfully translated into any other single language.

–R. K.

 What happens to astronauts who misbehave?
They’re grounded.

  What does an astronaut use to dust those hard-to-reach black holes?
A vacuum cleaner.

What did Neptune say to Saturn?
Give me a ring sometime.

What do you carve on a robot’s tombstone?
Rust in peace.

How do you keep a fool busy all day?
Put him in a round room and tell him to sit in the corner.

What do you get when you cross a bunny rabbit with the World Wide Web?
A hare net.

Individual entries on Richard Kostelanetz’s work in several fields appear in various editions of Readers Guide to Twentieth-Century Writers, Merriam-Webster Encyclopedia of Literature, Contemporary Poets, Contemporary Novelists, Postmodern Fiction, Webster's Dictionary of American Writers, The HarperCollins Reader’s Encyclopedia of American Literature, Baker's Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, Directory of American Scholars, Who's Who in America, Who's Who in the World, Who's Who in American Art, NNDB.com, Wikipedia.com, and Britannica.com, among other distinguished directories.

Personal note: I published several pieces by Richard in several issues of Gypsy International Literary Magazine and Sanctuary Tape Series in the 1980s. His work was always puzzling to me but I think it's supposed to be. ~Belinda Subraman

Su Zi's Review of Robert Archambeau's "Alice B Toklas Is Missing"

A Summer Fun Read: Robert Archambeau, thank you.

The experienced reader, being well-versed in the greatest hits of most major anthologies, might occasionally have a need to read when concentration is not optimal; institutional wait times can be balanced by the comfort of a book, and the mere thought of a delicious read in a pleasant location is a vacation in itself. Of course, the experienced reader can never be fully oblivious to craftsmanship, and often the seasons hits can have a frost burnt or stale flavor. But here comes Robert Archambeau with Alice B Toklas Is Missing (Regal House 2023), beguiling us to guffaw.

The novel’s protagonist, Ida, “copies old paintings. That was what she did. She copied old paintings for an old lady with old money” (13), appears as part of a Fitzgeraldian duo in a cast of characters that includes a “tallish, trim, and in his mid-thirties, she guessed, dark hair carefully parted and smoothed” (14) that turns out to be “Tom Eliot”.  Archambeau is artful with the layering of amusing characterizations, and is not short of an adept eye

Shelves of books both new and old lined the walls, but the center of the bright little shop was set up like a parlor—low comfortable chairs and rickety occasional tables ringed a large, faded carpet. It was used like a parlor too—at least by one thin man with thick glasses and a grubby black suit, who crossed and re-crossed his thin legs, sipping a cup of tea in one hand, and holding a small, squarish magazine inch from his squinting eyes with the other (34)

This character is introduced a page later “he stood, proffering his bony hand ‘Germ’s Choice, but you can call me Shame’s Voice’     [...]        ‘Mr. James Joyce,’ said Sylvia, by way of clarification “(35).    The cast of characters who make occasional appearances does read almost as a syllabus for the Parisian influence on twentieth century culture, although any fans of Wyndam Lewis ought to note that he becomes, ultimately, the bad guy.

But this novel offers far more than a romp through roaring literary figures. Archambeau’s attention to his setting elevates the work past a light romance with historical characters. Consider these few lines as the author propels Tom Eliot into a chapter of characterization

To enter the Bristol hotel is to enter a world that speaks so quietly it almost whispers. The clerks at the desk do it, and the guests—mostly British—find themselves matching their tones to those of the dark suited staff. Whether you stand on the checkerboard tiles of the lobby or sit comfortlessly in one of the pew-like benches beneath the small statue of Artemis, who might hear the building itself whisper.”(196)

The scene involves an introspective moment of Eliot in memory of his marriage, then shifts in point of view through the hotel room’s open door to the bellhop, who “saw Tom’s quaking back and turned discretely away. A weeping man is best undisturbed (198)” Archambeau posits Eliot as a man haunted not only by his difficult marriage, but by visions of his forebearers—a far more empathetic view than that of any textbook’s formal biography.

Although Claude McKay “rumored to be departing soon for Harlem” (252) makes only that moment’s appearance, Archambeau is intent on a trilogy, with the second title scheduled forthcoming, and readers might hope for more of an appearance by that illustrious and historical community in this evolving series as well. For those needing to review the period, the novel offers a delicious experience. Readers familiar with these literary ancestors will happily devour this tasty offering as from a sumptuous meal, and as  maybe find themselves equally as eager for future feasts.

Su Zi is a writer, poet and essayist who produces a handmade chapbook series called Red Mare. She has been a contributor to GAS from back when it was called Gypsy Art Show, more than a decade ago.

                     

Check out her author page on Amazon.