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Blake Butler: How did this book begin? Was it your intention specifically to write a book about black metal, or did a specific story come first?
Matthew Simmons: I wrote a couple of one-man black metal band pieces for my blog a while back. (I think I was just writing about black metal bands and then noticed that all the ones I liked and wanted to write about were made up of one guy.) When I got together with Keyhole for the collection coming out next year, Peter asked if I had something shorter, a couple of stories that weren’t going to be in that collection, that we could gather and publish in a little minibook. I had a few, and I decided to use the short black metal pieces as a gathering principle and as little breaks between longer stories that, though not explicitly about one man black metal bands, felt like cousins to them. The three full stories in the book feature three individuals who isolate or world build or reject collaboration.
BB: So what about the aesthetic or motivation or other of black metal in particular manifested in you during the writing of these pieces? I like the idea of the long stories being isolationist, and rejecting collaboration. The image of the building of the mountain in the yard was particularly effective to me as a kind of allegory of creation, which in interesting in the light that, at the story’s end, the nature of that creation turns toward a pretty black metal specific theme: death.
MS: In that story, I think the act of creation is more black metal than the likely child murder waiting for Sport after the final period. A man is given—or takes for himself—the power to create like God and God responds by insisting the man God-up and make the sacrifice God made when he let us crucify his son. Sure, he let Abraham off the hook, but he hadn’t just watched Abraham build Mount Moriah. So, I don’t really think of the binding of Sport as an act of fealty to God—even though God sends down a pushy angel to ask for and supervise the sacrifice—but instead it seems to me to be that guy acting through his new responsibilities as a beginner god. Of course, he hesitates a little, which seems to me to be not very black metal at all. But the striving for godhood—the desire to have a chair at God’s table instead of the small car table where the subservient mortals have to sit—seems very black metal.
'Matthew Simmons is the author of a novella (A JELLO HORSE, Publishing Genius Press, 2009), a chapbook (THE MOON TONIGHT FEELS MY REVENGE, Keyhole Press, 2010), and a forthcoming book of stories (HAPPY ROCK, Keyhole Press, 2011). He is a bookseller living in Seattle with his cat Emmett.' -- HTMLGIANT
Matthew Simmons The Moon Tonight Feels My RevengeKeyhole Press
A book of short stories and little tiny prose things about one-man black metal bands by the author of A Jello Horse.
"My only problem with this book is that it was printed with ink instead of being scrawled in goat's blood. It was a pussy move if you ask me. Other than that, I deem The Moon Tonight Feels My Revenge completely Taint-worthy. Read it by torchlight or I will fucking crush you." —Lance, The King of Black Metal
Excerpt:
Xasthur
Xasthur is a one-man Black Metal band. The man who makes all the music calls himself Malefic.
---I can be sure of none of what follows, but I will swear to its accuracy if pressed. That’s just who I am.
---Malefic's concerns are not so much Satanic as they are astral. Malefic spends his time pushing his consciousness out, not considering the limits of human freedom and will.
---Because of this, Malefic spends 19 or 20 hours a day asleep. Or nearly asleep. In that mental space between consciousness and unconsciousness is the space where Malefic spends his time searching.
---Malefic owns a house with three floors, but he spends all of his time in the basement. His bed is down there. He has a small bookshelf down there. Upstairs, a spends all of his time in the basement. His bed is down there. He has a small bookshelf down there. Upstairs, a thin layer of dust covers everything. He has never been to the second floor of his home. Not once. He can't remember where the stairs are. He has forgotten how many rooms are up there.
---Because Malefic spends so much of his time asleep or nearly asleep, he must rely on others to create his music. In his basement, he imprisons a host of tiny green creatures. The tiny green creatures live only to create music. It is their evolutionary imperative. They live on blast beats and droning, hypnotic guitar riffs. They live on washes of reverb and delay.
---In a way, they are like a Black Metal-making equivalent of the Doozers from Fraggle Rock.
---No, seriously.
---So Malefic sleeps. And the creatures makes music. And as he sleeps, the creatures keep a microphone next to him. And in his sleep, as he travels the outer limits of his brain, and searches for a crack in the barrier between his brain and the massive, possible “world brain,” he sings.
---This is how Xasthur records are made.
---Maybe.
Video Review: The Moon Tonight Feels My Revenge
Matthew Simmons reading at Pilot Books, July 30 2009
A Jello Horse Matthew Simmons pg. 21-26
_____________
'I didn't find it easy to choose excerpts from among the nearly one thousand books I've published over the past twenty-six years. I think that each of the works from which an excerpt is presented here in English translation represents other books, and each author other authors. In any case, it was in this spirit that I proceeded.
'Though it might seem a strange way of thanking them, I have deliberately excluded the writers who are already contributing to this issue of the Review of Contemporary Fiction. But I feared redundancy, and making them seem part of some exclusive circle- I think they'll understand. I have also left out those authors who have recently been translated in the U.S., or who will be soon - notably with Dalkey Archive Press, by John O'Brien, to whom I am grateful.' -- Paul Otchakovsky-Laurens
Contents
• Introduction: Why P.O.L Matters / Warren Motte
• A Conversation with Paul Otchakovsky-Laurens / John O'Brien
• P.O.L: An Elegy for the Present / Marie Darrieussecq
• Paul Otchakovsky-Laurens Descending a Staircase / Gérard Gavarry
• Five Books Published by Paul Otchakovsky-Laurens: A Critical Poem / Jacques Jouet
• The Early Years of P.O.L: A Story / Leslie Kaplan
• Sketches / François Matton
• On Literature as Readymade / Xabi Molia
• A Guided Tour of P.O.L's Editorial Offices / Christine Montalbetti
• Reading P.O.L / Jean-Jacques Thomas
Selections from the P.O.L List
• Les Jumelles (2009) / Pierre Alferi
• Créature (2000) / René Belletto
• Vaches (2008) / Frédéric Boyer
• Retour définitif et durable de l'être aimé (2002) / Olivier Cadiot
• Loin (2009) / Renaud Camus
• Quasi una fantasia (1996) / Marc Cholodenko
• Le Roman de l'été (2009) / Nicolas Fargues
• L'Île des morts (1994) / Jean Frémon
• Ma haie (2001) / Emmanuel Hocquard
• Les Merveilles du monde (2007) / Célia Houdart
• La Lenteur de l'avenir (1987) / Patrick Lapeyre
• En enfance (2009) / Mathieu Lindon
• Le Centre de la France (2006) / Hubert Lucot
• En attendant Esclarmonde (2009) / Danielle Mémoire
• La Langue d'Anna (1998) / Bernard Noël
• Devant la parole (1999) / Valère Novarina
• Les Mains gamines (2008) / Emmanuelle Pagano
• Demain je meurs (2007) / Christian Prigent
• Saint-Tropez—Une Américaine (2001) / Nathalie Quintane
• La Cause des portraits (2009) / Jean Louis Schefer
• PAN (2000) / Christophe Tarkos
• La Vacation (1989) / Martin Winckler
• L'Excuse (2008) / Julie Wolkenstein
The Review of Contemporary Fiction: The Editions P.O.L Number: Fall 2010 (Vol. XXX)'The Review of Contemporary Fiction was founded in 1981 to promote a vision of literary culture that is not limited to the immediately popular, and to ensure that important world writers outside popular attention continue to be written about and discussed. Editions P.O.L is perhaps the most innovative and important French publisher today, welcoming richly challenging and experimental literature into its fold to appear side by side with books belonging squarely in the mainstream. This issue of The Review of Contemporary Fiction pays tribute to this remarkable publisher with essays, images, and excerpts from previously untranslated works, and an interview with founder and director Paul Otchakovsky- Laurens.' -- Dalkey Archive
Excerpt
A Guided Tour of P.O.L's Editorial Offices
by Christine Montalbetti
Getting there isn't complicated, if you're facing the Saint-Michel fountain with the river behind you (the river is very close by, a few dozen meters away; its humidity when you cross the bridge toward the île de la Cité and then the Place du Châtelet with its two theaters and its cafes), you have to head along the right-hand side. You cross almost immediately and dive into rue SaintAndré-des-Arts with its crowd heading upriver, whose tide you fight through after having passed the red awning of the sandwich shop on your right, then the tobacconist's (I sometimes stop there to buy a packet of yellow or blue American Spirits), and, on your left, the terrace of a cafe, this morning covered in a thick, translucent tarpaulin through which you must appear slightly distorted to those sitting behind it.
Next, here's a kebab shop, suggestive color photos, simultaneously bright and worn, a crêperie, a Chinese caterer, hup, watch out, you step up onto the sidewalk to get out of the way of the van coming toward you, there you go (a passing glance through the shop window at the spring rolls and beef noodle soups waiting in their bowls under films of cellophane). Now you're there on that tiny strip of pavement, tying yourself in knots so as not to bump into the passersby with your bag, you gather your coattails so as to take up the least possible amount of space dancing your way through every manner of evasive maneuver. Another crêperie, with a blue facade (opposite is a bar- restaurant where I like to have dinner, noisy and dark, but pleasant, I'm not sure why), a souvenir shop from whose hangers dangle T-shirts depicting the sights of Paris, and you almost bump into a tower of Borsalinos waiting for you to take one and try it on (on the other side of the street, the Saint-André-des-Arts cinema - art and experimental films, I recommend it); and it's there, almost opposite Chochotte (an erotic theatre with a brass sign and a red and gray fresco), just after the decorations shop: you check the white and blue plaque for confirmation, "Editions P.O.L," and you push open the heavy green carriage door with the finely wrought handle (stepping up to avoid the low crosspiece).
You're now in the cobblestone courtyard, under the archway at first, then open sky, with the trees in pots (box trees, frail olive trees, oranges perhaps, and some species whose names I don't know). You're careful not to twist your ankle on the historic, uneven ground and, at the last moment, you raise your head, which you were keeping down, your eyes fixed on the ground to avoid the little canyons running between the loose cobblestones, you raise it toward the floor-to-ceiling windows on the right, behind which you can make out Jean-Paul, to whom you wave.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves, you press the button on intercom, and at the quiet hum of the lock opening, you push open the glass door (opposite you is a staircase with a finely wrought banister whose steps have been carrying people's feet for centuries). Then you turn the handle of the little door to the right, also green, and you come across Marie and Marie.
(more)
Interview éditeur Salon du livre: Paul Otchakovsky -Laurens
Emmanuel Carrère lit L'Adversaire. Extrait.
Marie Darrieussecq Truismes
_____________
Greg Purcell: I have a tremendous sense of pity when I consider clones. It’s the same sense of pity I have for the tremendously obese. What’s your take on clones?
Elaine Equi: That’s really interesting. I see clones in an entirely different way. To me, they’re fast and light on their feet because they aren’t weighed down with a lot of psychological baggage the way we are. Even the clone of an obese guy would carry himself in a sprightly manner.
If you look at some of the classics about doppelgangers, like Dostoevsky’s The Double, the double is always a little quicker and funnier than the sad sack protagonist because he isn’t hampered by the same sense of shame, guilt, and insecurity. He knows he’s got the edge.
The clones in this book aren’t meant to be taken literally. They’re figurative. I wrote them thinking of the many disposable versions of ourselves that get created these days. There are business clones, literary clones, chemical clones, and of course, informational clones made up of statistics on everything from our medical records to our shopping habits.
I wouldn’t want to clone myself (I don’t even have kids), but there is something appealing about the idea of being “me without myself to blame,” as I say in one poem. I know we don’t have human clones yet, and it may be just a case of the grass is always greener, but if there were human clones, I could easily hear myself saying: “Clones have it easy. Clones have it good. They’ve got nothing to complain about.”
GP: What do you think is a poet’s responsibility to her imagination, especially in an atmosphere like our own, in which critical evaluation often precedes composition?
EE: I have no responsibility to my imagination and my imagination has no responsibility to me. When we get together, it’s strictly for pleasure. I’m not really a believer in the purity of one’s artistic vision. In fact, I’m rather suspicious of that notion. If I feel any sense of responsibility when writing, it’s to the reader. I try to communicate as clearly as I can.
Elaine Equi Click and CloneCoffee House Press
'Click and Clone explores the tone and timbre of American life as it has been colored by the new metaphors and images brought to us by our continuing technological revolution. Equi is interested in a new form of realism – one that acknowledges the fact that what we think of as normal and everyday is now permeated with the fantastic. These poems draw on the conventions of science fiction and surrealism. Clones, lucid dreaming, and a tarot deck constructed from old movie stills are just a few of the marvelously routine occurrences in this maze of interlocking worlds and poems. Whether she is writing about art, pop culture, consumerism, or reality TV, Equi does so with clarity and wit. As inventive as she is agile, this author is a true original. -- Coffee House Press
Excerpts
taken from espresso bongo
Role Reversal
Stendahl claimed he held a mirror to nature.
Like Flaubert, many readers of Madame Bovary exclaimed: "C'est Moi!"
Once reality was dumb and brutish --
in need of art for elevation.
But it's changed --
grown baroque and multifaceted.
Today we can no longer take reality for granted.
Now art is the simpleton.
Led Zeppelin Revision
That stairway only leads halfway to heaven.
Everybody Has Dreams
Last night, the cook dreamt a giant mouth dribbling blood
or ketchup. He has trouble relating to women.
The woman in the beige pantsuit dreamt of a computer that
transports objects into the future.
The woman by the window was a little girl holding her mother's
hand.
The guy near the door followed a melody into a forest.
The busboy was driving a sports car fast.
The skinny girl was a military general in a country ruled by a giant
inflatable cat.
The waitress murdered somebody. Even now, she looks guiltily
over her shoulder as she wipes the silverware clean.
Pyrokinesis
Cast of Characters
Jerome, a poet with light brown hair and glasses
Elaine, a poet with medium brown hair and contact lenses
Martine, a poet with dark brown hair and glasses
Jerome: Pyrokinesis is when you look at a person and
they burst into flames.
Elaine: I'm the opposite. I look at a person and I burst
into flames.
Martine: When I look at a person, they turn into water.
Jerome: I try to avoid looking at people.
Elaine Equi reads the poem "Ultra-Confessional"
Fantasy Poetry Reading: Elaine Equi
The Best American Poetry 2010 Launch Reading @ The New School
----
*
p.s. Hey. ** Killer Luka, The love is mutual, n'est-ce pas? If I can (get to NYC), I will, if you promise not to die (in actuality), if I do. ** Allesfliesst, Hey. Oh, this answer isn't very interesting, but you can use it in your journal if you want. My worst experience was with the James Joyce Liquid Memorial Theater when I was a teenager. I don't remember the name of the piece I saw, just that it was performed at LACMA (the LA County Museum of Art). The audience was blindfolded and lead through a so-called 'sensorium'-cum-experimental play that basically and, really, only seemed to be a flimsy excuse for the performers to grope and caress and torture the audience members relentlessly with hippie platitudes involving the words freedom and love in the name of liberating them from the fascism of their sexual and emotional reserve or some such crap. The only thing it did for me was give sensuality a permanent bad name. That's the best I can come up with off the top of my head. Thanks for asking, man. ** Pilgarlic, Lowell George was a super interesting artist, yeah. I'm imagining he would have ended up a kind of idiosyncratic, rootsier, pioneering Neil Young type with Little Feat as his Crazy Horse, but who knows. I still like the first two Little Feat albums best. The prog influx was admirable, but it was too partying and yet kind of clinical or something for me. ** Bollo, Hi, Jonathan. Gunther von Hangen ... I'm blanking. What do you mean? The art fair inclusion is cool, and, yeah, network the situation for sure and as your integrity allows. It's what that kind of stuff is for. ** David Ehrenstein, Thank you a lot for the great D. Cammell info. Nick Hudson, you saw DE's input on the Cammell question, yes? It's in yesterday's comments, if you didn't. ** James Greer, I'm digging that you're giving in to your inner commenter. Hey, I just won something of yours. Well, 'won'. The Transfr thing. I was going to heft up on that fundraiser anyway, but, since the gold ring was just sitting there, ... Awesome that you're doing the DFW book for Fanzine, and cool about your blog thing on DFW. I'll go read it once I finish this. Everyone, James Greer, man about letters, has (and here I quote) written 'a post on my blog today that I think bears on any discussion re: DFW, depression, etc. Those interested can find it here: http://bit.ly/e1MAIW.'
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