Forgot to mention this.
Newest & best book with poems about my wife, influenced by Lyotard about intensities & Deleuze & Guattari about desire.
We received today The Natural History of the Cockwomble, to our great delight. The book is now approved for Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Ingram etc. It will; not be on the Apple bookstore since they themselves are egregious cockwombles, not unlike Jennifer’s shitty psychiatrist, who is exposed in his full moronic glory within the pages of this august tome.
The book is loitering at Lulu, waiting for you to solicit it. Here it is, & here we are too, admiring it.
Here’s the promised collaborative work with Jennifer Chesler. It’s up at Horror Sleaze Trash. If it were not for her I would not be writing.
I have, by dint of consuming large amounts of coffee, spent the better part of three days editing & ordering two novels as well as a 200 page collection of shorter pieces by my very talented fiancée Jennifer S. Chesler.
I seriously believe that nobody alive is writing anything even remotely comparable to her work. I am enormously proud that she considers me worthy of her affections.
I hope that these collections reach print form swiftly, & her works will be read for many years.
Here is a link to the blog of my brilliant fiancee Jennifer Chesler. There are old excerpts from novels in progress. She shall, however, be writing again soon, so new awesome work will be available there.
Joanna C. Valente
Marys of the Sea
review by David McLean
Obviously with a religious reference in the title, this book is full of powerful poems that create an alternative mythology for the female body in the face of abuse & the exigencies of motherhood together with the obvious alternative, abortion. This is important, since conceptualization and categorization of items within a reality influence how one feels able to interact with and/or challenge that reality. I shall refrain from discussing any feminist message since i am rather old-school & consider that a man does not have a feminist consciousness since he cannot, & feminism involves conscious awareness, with an epistemological privilege that a person possesses qua oppressed. Were I to do so, then Empire would speak, not really me. But the dispossession, & lack of rootedness & reality, is a general theme, it speaks of the lack of autochthonousness that marks the deconstructed self, as bodies scramble in the dirt for identities worth having,.
We are only human, says Valente, when someone is looking. The self is not something we have, just like problems aren’t something we have outside of a social context. The main problem with the late-capitalist socius is that nobody gives a flying fuck who you are: everything, everybody, every body is an object to be used & exploited; it is a resource. & again the oppressed oppress best. It is “some of the women in town” who want Mary punished, just as it is women who very often insist on FGM.
The book is full of perfect references to other poetry. I want to quote in full one short poem that like one that I myself did more verbosely is a tribute “Lullaby” by Auden. Valente’s sampling is much better, though:
Humans, yr sleeping head lies
on arms with no bones.
burn beauty away
with time. Children prove it true.
For now, lie here in my arms
our guilt entirely beautiful.
(Lullaby on the Half Shell)
I don’t read much poetry anymore. This might sound exaggerated but Valente’s poems are a sort of belated consolation for the death of Sylvia Plath. I think they’re that good, & you would be a fool not to read them.
Pleased to say that three new things by me are coming in Unlikely Stories, Mark 5, probably next week.
I have had quite a few things there before but, as noted, am remiss about submitting nowadays, unless asked.
I take this opportunity of again mentioning the review for of desire & the desert here by Dom Gabrielli. The book is linked at this blog, feel free to buy one 🙂