We wish you weren't living with us

Ghosts ... of the Civil Dead & Scum

There are plenty of prison films, but I've only ever seen two believable ones.

Ghosts ... of the Civil Dead isn't Nick Cave's singular vision (he a co-writer) but the film perfectly mirrors the themes in his songwriting.  No escape, no redemption, no happy endings.

It would be fair to say Ghosts ... of the Civil Dead owes a certain amount of dept to Scum, an equally grim and affecting film.  

This ain't Hollywood, that's for sure.  

Merry Christmas everyone.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

Classic 60s cinema...

George Orwell - Politics and the English Language

I don't necessarily agree with everything Orwell says, but I'd recommend this essay to anyone. Undoubtedly it remains relevant - possibly more than it did in 1946.  

It begins: 

Most people who bother with the matter at all would admit that the English language is in a bad way, but it is generally assumed that we cannot by conscious action do anything about it. Our civilization is decadent, and our language — so the argument runs — must inevitably share in the general collapse. It follows that any struggle against the abuse of language is a sentimental archaism, like preferring candles to electric light or hansom cabs to aeroplanes. Underneath this lies the half-conscious belief that language is a natural growth and not an instrument which we shape for our own purposes ... (continues here) 

History of Electronic / Electroacoustic Music (1937-2001)

If, like me, you thought electronic music didn't get going until the late 20th Century, you're in for a shocker.

Here's a collection of 476 tracks that'll blow that misconception out of the water.  (This is going to take a while.)

Some absolutely amazing stuff here. 

Bad Eggs: The Adventures of The Duke. And Errol by Declan Tan - a one-word review

Declan Tan’s novel, Bad Eggs: The Adventures of the Duke. And Errol is a recent publication by Not So Noble Books.  My one-word review is as follows:

“Unique.”

It’s a word that’s used way too often but in this case, it’s thoroughly well-deserved.  Declan Tan is the real deal.  Some writers start a story and you can’t guess how it ends, which requires a certain amount of talent.  Others can start a sentence and you don’t know how it’s going to end, which is a rare gift. 

The book is billed as “An absurdist remake of the relentlessly bleak Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme.”  If you like the sound of that, I’m guessing you’re not looking for something generic. 

Here’s the Amazon link. 

Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth by Chris Ware - a ripped-off review

Rather than review this myself, I'll quote from someone else's, as I think this sums it up very well: 

"Two interleaved narratives, separated by convoluted dream sequences and forbiddingly detailed plans for cut-and-fold paper toys, depict the awkward meeting between a thirtysomething loser and the father he has never known; and, more than 80 years before, the abandonment of the father's own father by his father. The stories are simply drawn, without the gothic shadows and mad clutter of so many graphic novels, but the multiple timelines and digressions twist and slot together to form a structure as complex and improbable as any of Ware's paper toys "for the friendless, the weak of heart and the ignored"..."
Here's the rest of the review. 

More on the authors' work here. 

Lessazo: Soleil d'hiver

Interview - Daniel Roche

This interview has been up on the main website for a while but here it is on the blog as well.

Daniel's short story collection The Paperwork Rebuttal is available to download for free from http://philistinepress.com. 

Where did the idea for The Paperwork Rebuttal come from?

The initial idea came from credit reports.  Years ago, prior to the housing bubble popping, I was working for a major mortgage company.  I was required to analyze people’s credit to determine if loans met company guidelines.  As I looked over credit reports I realized there was personality in expenditures.  How people spent their money gave a hint of who they were and the drama in their lives – child support, medical bills, student loans, etc.  I was fascinated by the contrast of an otherwise dull document containing glimpses of intense emotions and stories – separation, cancer, graduation.  Unfortunately back then little came to fruition as far as writing was concerned.  It was an idea, nothing more, nothing less.  It wasn’t until I started working for a small accounting firm in San Francisco while attending graduate school that the idea finally blossomed.  The accounting firm was older, the average age was 70, and the president was a WWII veteran.  I used a typewriter on a regular basis.  In looking over tax returns I noticed ‘DECEASED’ was written on more and more Form 1040s.  The firm’s client base was passing away due to old age.  And when I was given a return of a deceased client who had been with the firm for 30+ years, I sensed a sadness amongst the accountants.  These clients were more than just a social security number and receipts.  The archives felt like a tomb.  In addition, in looking over a return, I found people filed jointly one year, separately the next, a new dependent was born, or an exciting business started and then failed years later.  Hundreds and hundreds of stories were processed by this small firm.  Millions when you consider the IRS as a whole.  I wrote ‘Anatomy of a Broken CPA’ to hopefully encapsulate one of these stories.  From there I sought other forms. 

On a side note, I’m happy to say the accounting firm in San Francisco is still running strong, including the WWII veteran and president of the company at 91 years young. 

Would you call yourself an ‘experimental’ writer?

I’m afraid it depends on the project, the characters, and the story.  As far as The Paperwork Rebuttal is concerned there are several narratives/poems I would consider ‘experimental’.  The words rely on a precise placement on the form in order exemplify a specific emotion or necessary pause.  Often boxed-in by sections, some words purposely appear trapped and alone, which I believe deviates from a more typical free-verse poem or short story.  However, ‘Anatomy of a Broken CPA,’ ‘Jury Duty Summons,’ even ‘S.E.C. Love’ follow a fairly traditional story arch.  The physical shape of the story is unique, with necessary pauses and breaks placed throughout the forms, however the overall content would make Aristotle proud.   

Who are your influences? 

I would like to think every poem, play, and story I’ve read has left some kind of residue in my writing, in addition to watching theater, listening to opera, and viewing art.  However, Woolf, Joyce, Blake, Williams, and Emerson have been writers I always return to.   

The cover is the work of the talented artist and illustrator, Eric Piatkowski.  I’ve had the fortune of knowing Eric for nearly two decades.  We met in middle school, were on stage together in high school, we lived together in college, and I had the pleasure of reciting a poem at his wedding.  Needless to say when I approached him with this opportunity I had the utmost trust in his work.  While he was reading ‘Paperwork’ the image on the cover repeatedly came to mind.  

How would you describe your writing process?

This may sound a bit off, but I try to remember new unwritten projects.  Prior to writing a single word, I convince myself the entire project is already complete.  I imagine seeing the poem finalized, the actors on stage in full costume, or being able to see the last page of a story.  Of course each new project is blurry at best, as if I read the words or saw the play years ago.  Regardless, the project is finished, I only need to remember how it was written, what was said.  I’m not sure where this technique came from, but it instills confidence knowing my job as a writer is already done, I simply need to recreate it from scratch.  Beyond that, I treat writing as a job.  It’s no different from working in the mortgage industry, accounting, or education.   

Is any of the book based on your own experiences?

Some, but not all.  ‘Army Sworn Statement’, for example, is about sexual abuse in the military. I’ve never served in the military nor have I been sexually abused, in which case I constantly asked the question, “What right do I have to address this heavy issue?”  The result, I kept a great distance between myself as the writer and the subject matter.  I did this by keeping the exact number of letters in my interpretation as found on the original form.  Each letter, word, was simply replaced.  In contrast, ‘Divorcee’ is incredibly personal, in particular the last paragraph under ‘WARNING – IMPORTANT INFORMATION.’  Overall, ‘Paperwork’ it’s a mixture of personal experience and complete fiction.

Is there a story behind the cover art?

How do you feel about non-profit publishing?

Non-profit publishing is an opportunity to showcase raw expression and art that may otherwise be overlooked by the larger more traditional for-profit publishers.  It provides writers a wonderful platform to share their work without any inkling of salesmanship or commercialization.  In addition, the reader is comforted in knowing the only demand placed on them is the written work itself.  However, most importantly, non-profit publishing (as well as small for-profit publishers who rarely, if ever, turn a profit) exemplify the passion and devotion people have to pushing the written word to new heights.       

Are you working on anything new at the moment?

As far as writing is concerned, I’m working on a collection of stories tentatively entitled ‘Detox in Chini Town.’   They’re written in first and third person depending on my comfort in addressing certain issues.  Each story stands on its own, however there is an overlying arch.  Essentially it’s a collection of short stories as a novel.  Alcoholism, China, and reincarnation are recurring themes.  Beyond that, I’m currently developing and teaching the first creative writing classes offered at a small college near Huadu, China.  The latter keeps me fairly busy, but it’s also fascinating and fulfilling. 

...and there was me thinking there's only one type of Satanism

As it happens, Satanism has as many offshoots as any other religious movement.  Several of them are listed here. 

As noted on www.religionfacts.com, "not every form of Satanism professes a belief in gods or spirits. While some forms of Satanism believe in spiritual entities, others have a materialistic worldview and in relation to faith and religion they are atheists or agnostics. Satanic spiritualists, on the other hand, contend that Satan is a god or a chief evil spirit and they pursue interaction with him and other evil spirits. In contrast, those Satanists who are professed atheists and agnostics see Satanism as a philosophical worldview manifesting in a particular lifestyle often characterized by questioning authority. The spiritualitsts are more likely to perform satanic rituals, while the non-spiritualists don't." 

If You Go Away by Scott Walker

Konsumprodukt - Rumbero Elegante

Robert Johnson - They're Red Hot

Action News Team - How to Defend Yourself Against Fresh Fruit

This album is tagged on Bandcamp as: 

"alternative blues experimental folk punk free free download free sex garage sex pants shitty Edmonton" 

Just about sums it up. 

Here's the link. 

Some science-related stuff that's caught my attention recently

Pitch Drop Experiment At Trinity College Dublin Yields Single Drip After 69 Years

Giant viruses open Pandora's box

Cosmologist claims Universe may not be expanding

International Center of  Unconventional Computing

Monogamy evolved to keep baby-killers away

Kurt Vonnegut on the Shapes of Stories

New website pictures

Many thanks to my mate James for making me look presentable on my website.

I thought it was time to update the pictures as the previous ones were taken in 2004.

Whilst adding the new photos, I've made some slight updates to the stories Seven Days of Deconstruction and Siegfried The Tree.  Good to be able to do this before they appear in print next year :)

SALT - Wisława Szymborska

Here's some serious poetry - the fourth collection by the Nobel Prize winning poet, Wisława Szymborska - available for free.

Refreshingly honest advertising

Bogomilism

Currently reading Europe by Norman Davies (a large volume covering the beginning of time to the present day).  I've got as far as the Medieval period so far.  

I'm particularly interested in the short section on Bogomilism.  

The Wikipedia entry on Bogomilism begins: 

Bogomilism was a Gnostic religiopolitical sect founded in the First Bulgarian Empire by the priest Bogomil during the reign of Tsar Petar I in the 10th century. It most probably arose in what is today the region of Macedonia as a response to the social stratification that occurred as a result of the introduction of feudalism and as a form of political movement and opposition to the Bulgarian state and the church.

The Bogomils called for a return to early Christianity, rejecting the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and their primary political tendencies were resistance to the state and church authorities. This helped the movement spread quickly in the Balkans, gradually expanding throughout the Byzantine Empire and later reaching Kievan Rus', Bosnia, Dalmatia, Rascia, Italy, France.

The Bogomils were dualists in that they believed the world was created not by the Abrahamic God, but by an evil demiurge — the Devil. They did not use the cross nor build churches, preferring to perform rituals outdoors.

Continues here. 

Niall O'Sullivan

Accidental art

Not sure who drew this diagram or what purpose it serves, but I kind of like it... 

Spleen by Charles Baudelaire (1857)

(I)

February, peeved at Paris, pours

a gloomy torrent on the pale lessees

of the graveyard next door and a mortal chill

on tenants of the foggy suburbs too.

The tiles afford no comfort to my cat

that cannot keep its mangy body still;

the soul of some old poet haunts the drains

and howls as if a ghost could hate the cold.

A churchbell grieves, a log in the fireplace smokes

and hums falsetto to the clock's catarrh,

while in a filthy reeking deck of cards

inherited from a dropsical old maid,

the dapper Knave of Hearts and the Queen of Spades

grimly disinter their love affairs.

(II)

Souvenirs?

More than if I had lived a thousand years!

No chest of drawers crammed with documents,

love-letters, wedding-invitations, wills,

a lock of someone's hair rolled up in a deed,

hides so many secrets as my brain.

This branching catacombs, this pyramid

contains more corpses than the potter's field:

I am a graveyard that the moon abhors,

where long worms like regrets come out to feed

most ravenously on my dearest dead.

I am an old boudoir where a rack of gowns,

perfumed by withered roses, rots to dust;

where only faint pastels and pale Bouchers

inhale the scent of long-unstoppered flasks.

Nothing is slower than the limping days

when under the heavy weather of the years

Boredom, the fruit of glum indifference,

gains the dimension of eternity . . .

Hereafter, mortal clay, you are no more

than a rock encircled by a nameless dread,

an ancient sphinx omitted from the map,

forgotten by the world, and whose fierce moods

sing only to the rays of setting suns.

(III)

I'm like the king of a rainy country, rich

but helpless, decrepit though still a young man

who scorns his fawning tutors, wastes his time

on dogs and other animals, and has no fun;

nothing distracts him, neither hawk nor hound

nor subjects starving at the palace gate.

His favorite fool's obscenities fall flat

--the royal invalid is not amused--

and ladies in waiting for a princely nod

no longer dress indecently enough

to win a smile from this young skeleton.

The bed of state becomes a stately tomb.

The alchemist who brews him gold has failed

to purge the impure substance from his soul,

and baths of blood, Rome's legacy recalled

by certain barons in their failing days,

are useless to revive this sickly flesh

through which no blood but brackish Lethe seeps.

(IV)

When skies are low and heavy as a lid

over the mind tormented by disgust,

and hidden in the gloom the sun pours down

on us a daylight dingier than the dark;

when earth becomes a trickling dungeon where

Trust like a bat keeps lunging through the air,

beating tentative wings along the walls

and bumping its head against the rotten beams;

when rain falls straight from unrelenting clouds,

forging the bars of some enormous jail,

and silent hordes of obscene spiders spin

their webs across the basements of our brains;

then all at once the raging bells break loose,

hurling to heaven their awful caterwaul,

like homeless ghosts with no one left to haunt

whimpering their endless grievances.

--And giant hearses, without dirge or drums,

parade at half-step in my soul, where Hope,

defeated, weeps, and the oppressor Dread

plants his black flag on my assenting skull.

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/607 

Pablo Saborío

Prolific artist and writer, Pablo Saborío's website, Nihilistic Poetry, contains lots of very good stuff, including this:

Farm Implements and Rutabagas in a Landscape by John Ashbery (1966)

The first of the undecoded messages read: "Popeye sits 
   in thunder,
Unthought of. From that shoebox of an apartment,
From livid curtain's hue, a tangram emerges: a country."
Meanwhile the Sea Hag was relaxing on a green couch: "How 
   pleasant
To spend one's vacation en la casa de Popeye," she 
   scratched
Her cleft chin's solitary hair. She remembered spinach

And was going to ask Wimpy if he had bought any spinach.
"M'love," he intercepted, "the plains are decked out 
   in thunder
Today, and it shall be as you wish." He scratched
The part of his head under his hat. The apartment
Seemed to grow smaller. "But what if no pleasant
Inspiration plunge us now to the stars? For this is my 
   country."

Suddenly they remembered how it was cheaper in the country.
Wimpy was thoughtfully cutting open a number 2 can of spinach
When the door opened and Swee'pea crept in. "How pleasant!"
But Swee'pea looked morose. A note was pinned to his bib. 
   "Thunder
And tears are unavailing," it read. "Henceforth shall
   Popeye's apartment
Be but remembered space, toxic or salubrious, whole or 
   scratched."

Olive came hurtling through the window; its geraniums scratched
Her long thigh. "I have news!" she gasped. "Popeye, forced as 
   you know to flee the country
One musty gusty evening, by the schemes of his wizened, 
   duplicate father, jealous of the apartment
And all that it contains, myself and spinach
In particular, heaves bolts of loving thunder
At his own astonished becoming, rupturing the pleasant

Arpeggio of our years. No more shall pleasant
Rays of the sun refresh your sense of growing old, nor the 
   scratched
Tree-trunks and mossy foliage, only immaculate darkness and 
   thunder."
She grabbed Swee'pea. "I'm taking the brat to the country."
"But you can't do that--he hasn't even finished his spinach,"
Urged the Sea Hag, looking fearfully around at the apartment.

But Olive was already out of earshot. Now the apartment
Succumbed to a strange new hush. "Actually it's quite pleasant
Here," thought the Sea Hag. "If this is all we need fear from 
   spinach
Then I don't mind so much. Perhaps we could invite Alice the Goon 
   over"--she scratched
One dug pensively--"but Wimpy is such a country
Bumpkin, always burping like that." Minute at first, the thunder

Soon filled the apartment. It was domestic thunder,
The color of spinach. Popeye chuckled and scratched
His balls: it sure was pleasant to spend a day in the country.

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/238 

JG Ballard

Interesting JG Ballard story here. 

The accidental photo

Not sure where I was when this was taken but it looks groovy... 

"Identity" - an introduction to Dead Letter Office by Anonymous

(First published as part of the Edinburgh Ebook Festival 2013.) 

Speaking as both a reader and an editor, I’m interested in literature that demands my attention early on. This probably means I’m missing out on a few slow-burning classics, so apologies to any authors who I’ve made a hasty decision to reject.

With the poetry collection, Dead Letter Office, I was hooked as soon as I read the opening line: “There’s a mallard and his mate outside my window.”  This one simple statement encapsulates everything that follows. This is the story of a rejected lover, looking out of their window, viewing the world outside in contrast to their own isolation.

When Dead Letter Office landed in my inbox, I half-expected something along the same lines as Exiled on Main Street, the poetry collection we published by the same author in 2012.  In a way, I was surprised at the contrast between the two books.  Exiled on Main Street is much broader in tone, with the poet adopting a range of angry, disillusioned voices.  Dead Letter Office is gentler and bleaker, with a single voice dwelling on the mistakes of their past.

Perhaps writing anonymously makes it easier for a writer to flip from one personality to another.  The lack of an identity as an author means each individual piece of work has an identity of its own.   

Non-profit publishing seems to be the perfect outlet for anonymous authors.  It’s obvious why mainstream publishers aren’t keen on the idea.  How many copies would Dan Brown’s latest novel have sold if the publishers failed to include the author’s name on the cover?  (I was going to say JK Rowling but thought better of it.)

Writing anonymously allows the writer to step completely outside of themselves, and perhaps write more freely as a result.  For one thing, you can experiment with radical ideas without worrying about what kind of backlash you’ll receive.  In the case of the anonymous authors of the manifesto Things That Don’t Exist, which we published last year, the authors state: “This manifesto was composed by a group of individuals who wish to remain anonymous on the grounds that their ideas are more important than their identities.” 

Appropriately enough, anonymity is a central theme in Dead Letter Office.  The book tells a tale of lost love, through a series of unsent letters written by a nameless narrator to a nameless recipient.  The following short poem sums the collection up well:  

Unsent Letter #3

Dear ,

Sometimes I no longer believe you are real; this letter

will sit in the dead letter office, unopened and unread

until one rainy day, a bored employee will wonder who

it was meant for. They will open it, read it aloud; create

their own narrative. I wonder will they be able to see

the curve of your hand, the spot on your wrist I used

to kiss; the freckle on your rib. On my window ledge,

a petal, used to be a rose. It is a stamp that has fallen

off an envelope; one more letter unable to be delivered.

Love,

One of the great things about poetry is that it allows you to tell a story without the necessity of a beginning, middle or end.  Each poem in Dead Letter Office focuses on a different aspect of the relationship between our two unnamed lovers, and a different aspect of the narrator’s sorrow.  Once the bigger picture has been established at the end of the collection, you may find yourself returning to the beginning in order to pick up bits you may have missed first time round.  It’s that kind of book. 

Download it for free from www.philistinepress.com.  You won’t be disappointed.

Frank Burton 

"Seriously" - an introduction to Pervert by Mr If

(First published as part of the Edinburgh Ebook Festival 2013.) 

In the third part of Mr If’s Entertainment Trilogy, the legendary author’s tales of sexual excess are drawn to an extraordinary conclusion. No spoilers here, but it’s not quite the ending any of us were expecting.

Skint, rejected and desperate, our pseudonymous protagonist embarks on a trek across small-town England, on what turns out to be a tough mission to cure his “adultery addiction”.

Pervert works perfectly well as a stand-alone piece, so if you’re happy to dive straight into part three of the trilogy, you’ll quickly receive an insight into Mr If’s mind – what makes him tick, what makes him sick, and what makes him, by his own reckoning, a bit of a prick. At times he’s despicable, at others he’s the voice of reason. He’s as enigmatic as he is brutally honest. He manages to leap from nihilism to humanism in the same breath. It’s difficult to think of a more captivating narrator.

Pervert differs from Mr If’s previous two books in that he’s ditched poetry in favour of prose. The switch has granted him the opportunity to strip his work of anything resembling “proper” literature.

Many readers will be put off by the explicit content, and no doubt by some of the author’s opinions. It’s clear from the memorable first line onwards that Mr If doesn’t write books for the easily offended.

Like the author’s debut collection, Entertainment, Pervert is a story about a series of sexual encounters. What’s important to note is that at no point does the narrative cross the line into porn or erotica. The sexual act itself is rarely even described aside from the occasional comic flourish (“My cock had already popped up its head up like an over-attentive waiter”). The account isn’t about the sex itself but the author’s interaction with the people he’s doing it with.

For those who like this sort of thing, Pervert is a very funny book. It’s easy to imagine Mr If as a character from a comic strip in the pages of Viz.

As with Viz, there’s an undercurrent of tragedy to Mr If’s crudeness. The author is at his best when he’s being serious. The book’s penultimate chapter includes a poem called “All My Friends Are Arseholes” – a bluntly-written attack on middle-class complacency, which ends with the lines:

The question is,
If all my friends are arseholes,
What does that make me?

Elsewhere, in a rant on marriage and monogamy, the author concludes:

“It’s not the couples themselves who benefit from marriage – it’s people like me, leeching off other people’s misery, sucking out every last drop of love. Without marriage, people like me would be forced to start being nice to people.”

Any attack on an institution, whether it’s literature itself in Entertainment, the military in Violence is the Answer or marriage in Pervert, are accompanied by flashes of self-loathing.

You may not be entirely convinced by the author’s claims that his work is autobiographical (including the book’s alarming ending), but for me, Mr If writes with a great deal of conviction, which makes the story all the more “real”.

In many ways, it doesn’t matter what’s true and what’s not. This is the stuff of legend, and legends can only be taken seriously to a certain degree.

I recommend taking this book seriously. I may get shot down in flames for saying so, but I believe this is an important book, and I hope that one day Mr If will be a recognisable name among book-lovers everywhere (even if he has no desire to be so).

Love it or hate it, this unconventional author’s work is more than just “entertainment”.

Anyway, you can be the judge. It’s a free download, so no excuses for ignoring it. Trust me – it’s unignorable. 

Download Pervert alongside lots of other free ebooks at www.philistinepress.com.

Frank Burton 

Edinburgh Ebook Festival 2013 - our contribution

We launched two ebooks as part of the Edinburgh Ebook Festival 2013, Pervert by Mr If and Dead Letter Office by Anonymous.

I'm reproducing our three blog posts which appeared on their website, starting with my introduction to Philistine Press and our two books... 

A couple of decades ago, giving thousands of books away for free would have been completely unthinkable for the vast majority of the population. The considerable expense would put off even the most well-meaning of philanthropists. Nowadays, e-publishing allows us to give thousands of books away for free at virtually zero cost. What’s more, anyone who has internet access can do it.

Non-profit publishing is yet to be huge, and yet to be taken seriously by its critics, but I wouldn’t be surprised if over the next few years, many more writers begin to consider the possibility of giving their work away for free. At present, there are only a handful of non-profit e-publishers. It’s only a matter of time before more small presses have the same idea – particularly the ones that don’t make a profit in the first place. 

With so much hype about the potential fortune that can be made through e-publishing, it’s unsurprising that so many small presses have chosen not to go non-profit. With the potential for your books to be purchased by millions of readers throughout the world without printing and distribution costs, it makes perfectly good sense to charge readers money, even if it’s just a token amount. However, in such a crowded marketplace, the chances of a small press or self-published author making millions through e-publishing remain slim. 

Is it better to make a relatively tiny amount of money from a book which is read by a handful of people, or to make zero pounds and zero pence, but reach an audience of thousands? I know which one I’d choose, because I’ve chosen it. I’m a non-profit publisher, and proud of it.

The two ebooks Philistine Press are launching as part of the Edinburgh Ebook Festival – Pervert by Mr If, and Dead Letter Office by Anonymous – are fine examples of the beauty of non-profit literature.

Pervert is a work of confessional prose, which is – or at least claims to be – a factual account of a short, explosive period in the author’s life. Mr If writes with no regard for the sensitivity of his readers, and with no fear of being censored.  This is the third book we’ve published by Mr If (it’s part three of the Entertainment Trilogy, and apparently the last book he’s ever going to write). We’ve had a great response to his first two books, despite – or, perhaps, because of – the author’s complete lack of subtlety. There are no metaphors, no hidden meanings, no ambiguities, and no apology for their absence. When Mr If says he wants to have sex with his mother, he genuinely means he wants to have sex with his mother. This would be a difficult book to sell to a mainstream publisher. Mr If isn’t interested in being mainstream, and makes every effort not to be.

Mr If may have a secret identity, but at the very least, we know he’s a "Mr". The author of the sublime poetry collection, Dead Letter Office is so anonymous that even I don’t know whether the person I’ve been corresponding with is male or female. With "Anonymous," it’s all about the work, not the author.  Dead Letter Office and the author’s previous collection, Exiled on Main Street, which we published in 2012, are accompanied by the message:

“You are encouraged to use this work in any way you see fit. Steal it, borrow it, take parts and make something new, rearrange it, riff on it, send it out over the internet, blog it, post it on telephone poles, throw it away. There is no copyright, no expectation of credit. Poetry should be free.”

As much as I admire this approach, speaking as a writer, I’m somewhat less revolutionary. I wouldn’t want anyone to rip off what I’ve written, alter it and pass it off as their own work. I’d imagine the majority of writers wouldn’t. 

But, as Pervert and Dead Letter Office demonstrate, non-profit literature isn’t about the majority. It’s there as an alternative. It may be revolutionary, but its intention isn’t to destroy the industry. It’s there to provide an alternative which didn’t exist until relatively recently. It’s for people who can’t find anything on the bestseller lists that appeals to them. It’s there who wouldn’t ordinarily read books. Above all, it’s there for anyone who loves literature.   

I can’t claim to be purist when it comes to being non-profit. I’d never advise anyone to firmly commit themselves to one form of publishing or another. My short story collection, A History of Sarcasm (Dog Horn 2009), and my forthcoming novel, Winter is Better Than Summer (Aqueous Books 2014) are both paid-for titles. I published my novel, The Prodigals, through Philistine Press in 2011 because the opportunity was too good to miss. My advice to writers is, take whatever opportunities are available to you.  If a print publisher wants to sign you up, go for it. The opportunity to self-publish your work online is always there, and in many cases it’s a better option than going through a conventional publisher. Make your choices wisely. Dismissing the idea of non-profit publishing altogether means there’s one less option on the table. 

One final word on the subject: not making money means not having to worry about how many books you’re going to sell. It offers authors the freedom to take more risks. You can say whatever you want in whatever way you want. Readers should take note as well as writers. The highly-recommended self-published writer pixelnyx (http://pixelnyx.com) is a prime example of an unrestricted author. 

Of course, an author’s work doesn’t have to be controversial, experimental or “cutting edge”. A good book is a good book, whether it’s free or not. If it’s available for anyone in the world with a computer to read or download without paying for it, all the better.       

If you’re interested in finding out more about Philistine Press, visit www.philistinepress.com for lots of free stuff.

Feel free to get in touch at philistinepress@gmail.com. Our next wave of submissions begins in January 2014. 

The Guitar by Federico García Lorca

The weeping of the guitar
begins.
The goblets of dawn
are smashed.
The weeping of the guitar
begins.
Useless
to silence it.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps monotonously
as water weeps
as the wind weeps
over snowfields.
Impossible
to silence it.
It weeps for distant
things.
Hot southern sands
yearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without target
evening without morning
and the first dead bird
on the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally wounded
by five swords.

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/163 

You Don't Know What You Don't Know - Noam Chomsky

Clare Fisher's The City in my Head

Philistine author Clare Fisher is in the midst of publishing a series of sharp, funny and haunting stories called The City in my Head, each tale focussing on a different area of London. In the words of the author, this is a "fictional map".  

The stories can be read here, courtesy of Notes From the Underground.  

Follow Clare on Twitter: @Clawclam 

Cosmic Dust

Take a look at this very interesting article from the website of Imperial College London. 

"Cosmic dust is everywhere, it is on the streets, in our homes, even on our clothes. Each one of us is never more than a few feet from a dust particle from space, tiny pieces of rocks that could be from the moon, asteroids, comets, even Jupiter. Cosmic dust is important since these tiny pieces of rock allow us to study distant objects in our solar system without the multi-billion dollar price tag of a space mission. Despite the ubiquitous abundance of cosmic dust, however, it is difficult to know exactly where in space these little particles are from..."

Particle sizes

Not the sort of thing you'd expect to see on a literature / arts-based blog, but if you've ever wondered what size an oxygen particle is in relation to the eye of a needle, this is for you...

Particle	Particle Size (microns)
one inch	25400
dot (.)	615
Eye of a Needle	1230
Glass Wool	1000
Spanish Moss Pollen	150 - 750
Beach Sand	100 - 10000
Mist	70 - 350
Fertilizer	10 - 1000
Pollens	10 - 1000
Cayenne Pepper	15 - 1000
Textile Fibers	10 - 1000
Fiberglass Insulation	1 - 1000
Grain Dusts	5 - 1000
Human Hair	40 - 300
Human Hair	60 - 600
Dust Mites	100 - 300
Saw Dust	30 - 600
Ground Limestone	10 - 1000
Tea Dust	8 - 300
Coffee	5 - 400
Bone Dust	3 - 300
Hair	5 - 200
Cement Dust	3 - 100
Ginger	25 - 40
Mold Spores	10 - 30
Starches	3 - 100
Red Blood Cells	5 - 10
Mold	3 - 12
Mustard	6 - 10
Antiperspirant	6 - 10
Textile Dust	6 - 20
Gelatin	5 - 90
Spider web	2 - 3
Spores	3 - 40
Combustion-related - motor vehicles, wood burning, open burning, industrial processes	up to 2.5
Fly Ash	1 - 1000
Milled Flour, Milled Corn	1 - 100
Coal Dust	1 - 100
Iron Dust	4 - 20
Smoke from Synthetic Materials	1 - 50
Lead Dust	2
Face Powder	0.1 - 30
Talcum Dust	0.5 - 50
Asbestos	0.7 - 90
Calcium Zinc Dust	0.7 - 20
Paint Pigments	0.1 - 5
Auto and Car Emission	1 - 150
Metallurgical Dust	0.1 - 1000
Metallurgical Fumes	0.1 - 1000
Clay	0.1 - 50
Humidifier	0.9 - 3
Copier Toner	0.5 - 15
Liquid Droplets	0.5 - 5
Insecticide Dusts	0.5 - 10
Anthrax	1 - 5
Yeast Cells	1 - 50
Carbon Black Dust	0.2 - 10
Atmospheric Dust	0.001 - 40
Smoldering or Flaming Cooking Oil	0.03 - 0.9
Corn Starch	0.1 - 0.8
Sea Salt	0.035 - 0.5
Bacteria	0.3 - 60
Bromine	0.1 - 0.7
Lead	0.1 - 0.7
Radioactive Fallout	0.1 - 10
Rosin Smoke	0.01 - 1
Combustion	0.01 - 0.1
Smoke from Natural Materials	0.01 - 0.1
Burning Wood	0.2 - 3
Coal Flue Gas	0.08 - 0.2
Oil Smoke	0.03 - 1
Tobacco Smoke	0.01 - 4
Viruses	0.005 - 0.3
Typical Atmospheric Dust	0.001 to 30
Sugars	0.0008 - 0.005
Pesticides & Herbicides	0.001
Carbon Dioxide	0.00065
Oxygen	0.0005

Source: http://www.engineeringtoolbox.com/particle-sizes-d_934.html