[i'll be posting more and more about Starcherone, since i am now Marketing Coodinator and need to pimp it hard ;-) ]
Joshua Harmon's novel, Quinnehtukqut, has been named one of three finalists for the Virginia Commonwealth University First Novelist Award.
Quinnehtukqut traces the real and imagined travels of Martha Hennessy, a girl wishing for a life beyond her family's farm in Northern New Hampshire. In varied and musical language, Quinnehtukqut interweaves Martha's story with those of the dreamers and drifters whose lives intersect hers: an American soldier scarred by the first World War, a mythical and murderous vagrant seeking lost Indian gold, a man haunted by his memories of Byrd's expeditions to Antarctica, an industrialist longing to become a woodsman, and an old woman forced to leave her home due to the planned flooding of a valley. Elegiac and lyrical, evocative and visionary, Quinnehtukqut reveals how people inhabit place and how place inhabits people through its vivid study of the New England landscape.
Quinnehtukqut was published in 2007 by the Buffalo, NY-based small press, Starcherone Books. It is the only one of the three finalists for the VCU prize published by an independent small press. The other two finalists were issued by Dial/Random House and Vintage/Penguin, respectively. The much-lauded first novel by Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, finished as a semi-finalist.
See more about Quinnehtukqut at Starcherone Books, where you can order it directly or buy it from your favorite bookseller.
Joshua Harmon's novel, Quinnehtukqut, has been named one of three finalists for the Virginia Commonwealth University First Novelist Award.
Quinnehtukqut traces the real and imagined travels of Martha Hennessy, a girl wishing for a life beyond her family's farm in Northern New Hampshire. In varied and musical language, Quinnehtukqut interweaves Martha's story with those of the dreamers and drifters whose lives intersect hers: an American soldier scarred by the first World War, a mythical and murderous vagrant seeking lost Indian gold, a man haunted by his memories of Byrd's expeditions to Antarctica, an industrialist longing to become a woodsman, and an old woman forced to leave her home due to the planned flooding of a valley. Elegiac and lyrical, evocative and visionary, Quinnehtukqut reveals how people inhabit place and how place inhabits people through its vivid study of the New England landscape.
Quinnehtukqut was published in 2007 by the Buffalo, NY-based small press, Starcherone Books. It is the only one of the three finalists for the VCU prize published by an independent small press. The other two finalists were issued by Dial/Random House and Vintage/Penguin, respectively. The much-lauded first novel by Junot Diaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, finished as a semi-finalist.
See more about Quinnehtukqut at Starcherone Books, where you can order it directly or buy it from your favorite bookseller.
aaaah...nothing like a fresh haircut
last Thursday, I was the guest reader at my alma mater Medaille College. since the book is no more, i had to come up with something else. so i read "rock me amadeus" and read a new piece in this storytelling project i'm working on (i won't post the txt here - you'll just have to wait til i record the audio or video). but in between i did an interactive thing...literary mad libs. i took a famous passage from a novel, took out some key words and had the audience fill in the blanks, then read it back to them. here's the result.....
It was the greatest of times, it was the worst of dog, it was the age of puzzlement, it was the cotton candy of foolishness, it was the hummingbird of belief, it was the Scott of incredulity, it was the season of smelly, it was the season of juicy, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, Hilary Clinton had everything before us, Barry Goldwater had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Chicago, we were all going direct to Portland -- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its fearless authorities insisted on its being wonky, for good or for evil, in the superlative coach of comparison only.
current mood: peaceful
current noise: "what goes on" by the velvet underground
It was the greatest of times, it was the worst of dog, it was the age of puzzlement, it was the cotton candy of foolishness, it was the hummingbird of belief, it was the Scott of incredulity, it was the season of smelly, it was the season of juicy, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, Hilary Clinton had everything before us, Barry Goldwater had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Chicago, we were all going direct to Portland -- in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its fearless authorities insisted on its being wonky, for good or for evil, in the superlative coach of comparison only.
current mood: peaceful
current noise: "what goes on" by the velvet underground
[original source]
Trying to make sense of wolfpacks in subway concourses, I dropped in on the West Philadelphia Community Center, a bullet-scarred wonder that struggles to keep a light on at night.
The place was a swarm of activity - guys in their late teens and early 20s playing fast and freestyle basketball, girls watching movies and music videos in the computer room, center director Bill Butler setting take-out pizza on a conference table, intended to coax some kids to talk.
Four teens sat around the long table, not saying much at first, as I asked what would make someone attack a man or woman for sport.
The teenagers talked of a change in season. "When it starts to get nice, people start to get crazy," said Maleeka Borders, 16, soft-spoken and pretty, as she thumbed her cell phone.
"Nowadays it's getting crazier and crazier. People don't have nothing to do. And when you have nothing to do, you spend your time doing anything. People get caught up in the wrong thing."
She knows the craziness firsthand. Last summer, when budget problems curtailed the Mantua center's hours, she had nothing to do all day, she said, so she'd sleep until dinnertime.
"It was like 12:30 one morning. I was walking to 40th and Fairmount. I felt something hit my back."
First she thought that a brick had struck her from behind. But a bullet had slammed into her left shoulder. She walked home, and recovered in time to be back in school that fall.
"Didn't cry?" asked Khiry Blaylock, 19, across the table.
"The only reason I started crying was because of the blood."
Up until four years ago, the center was open nights until 9, but the nonprofit that runs it, Caring People Alliance, could no longer find the money. Funding programs for kids over 13 is tough, says Arlene Bell, the organization's president. "We have an age group of kids who are not safe on the streets, and as a practical matter, there is no money to provide for them. That is astonishing to me."
So, in 2004, the center started closing at 6 p.m.
Scared on the streets
Butler, the building's 36-year-old director, said he'd be working late and on his way home would see kids - 8, 9 years old - running through the streets. "They'd tell me they were scared, the younger ones in particular."
A teen delegation approached him last summer, led by Chaz Walker, 19, who had been going there since he was 4, and who in his younger days was "the Dennis the Menace of West Philly," as Butler puts it.
The teens needed the place, Walker told him. Butler promised to find a way. And he did.
By staggering his employees' hours, he was able to keep five people working late two nights a week. Since November, the center has stayed open Wednesday and Thursday nights until 8:30.
What would you be doing if the place weren't open? I asked the teens.
"Be either at work or in the house," Blaylock said.
"Probably not that," Walker said. "Be on the corner."
The hard corner
But the corner is getting less hospitable. Four weeks ago, Blaylock's cousin was shot to death outside the bar, called the Easy Corner.
Butler says the push of Drexel and Penn students has flushed the drug dealers onto the community center's block.
"This was sacred ground, this block," Butler says.
The teens say the center offers more than an open door. Butler and his assistant director, Branon Gilmore, have created a community. The men have known each other since third grade, when they were city kids in Reading and relied on its clubs and community centers and sports leagues. Best friends for nearly 30 years.
Butler, a musician and Drexel grad in computers, has been at the center since 2000. He recruited Gilmore, who had been working at Temple in admissions.
"I'm just trying to bring the values I grew up with," says Gilmore, a former high school quarterback.
I was still struggling with making sense of the subway attacks.
So what was going on with the Simon Gratz High School students accused of beating a Starbucks manager? It was a lot to ask a conference room of teens pulled from their games.
What were these Gratz kids looking for? I continued. Were they just looking to fight? Did they need . . .
"A place to go where they're wanted," Chaz Walker said, finishing my sentence, if not my thought.
current mood: chill
current noise: "the stars" by moby
Trying to make sense of wolfpacks in subway concourses, I dropped in on the West Philadelphia Community Center, a bullet-scarred wonder that struggles to keep a light on at night.
The place was a swarm of activity - guys in their late teens and early 20s playing fast and freestyle basketball, girls watching movies and music videos in the computer room, center director Bill Butler setting take-out pizza on a conference table, intended to coax some kids to talk.
Four teens sat around the long table, not saying much at first, as I asked what would make someone attack a man or woman for sport.
The teenagers talked of a change in season. "When it starts to get nice, people start to get crazy," said Maleeka Borders, 16, soft-spoken and pretty, as she thumbed her cell phone.
"Nowadays it's getting crazier and crazier. People don't have nothing to do. And when you have nothing to do, you spend your time doing anything. People get caught up in the wrong thing."
She knows the craziness firsthand. Last summer, when budget problems curtailed the Mantua center's hours, she had nothing to do all day, she said, so she'd sleep until dinnertime.
"It was like 12:30 one morning. I was walking to 40th and Fairmount. I felt something hit my back."
First she thought that a brick had struck her from behind. But a bullet had slammed into her left shoulder. She walked home, and recovered in time to be back in school that fall.
"Didn't cry?" asked Khiry Blaylock, 19, across the table.
"The only reason I started crying was because of the blood."
Up until four years ago, the center was open nights until 9, but the nonprofit that runs it, Caring People Alliance, could no longer find the money. Funding programs for kids over 13 is tough, says Arlene Bell, the organization's president. "We have an age group of kids who are not safe on the streets, and as a practical matter, there is no money to provide for them. That is astonishing to me."
So, in 2004, the center started closing at 6 p.m.
Scared on the streets
Butler, the building's 36-year-old director, said he'd be working late and on his way home would see kids - 8, 9 years old - running through the streets. "They'd tell me they were scared, the younger ones in particular."
A teen delegation approached him last summer, led by Chaz Walker, 19, who had been going there since he was 4, and who in his younger days was "the Dennis the Menace of West Philly," as Butler puts it.
The teens needed the place, Walker told him. Butler promised to find a way. And he did.
By staggering his employees' hours, he was able to keep five people working late two nights a week. Since November, the center has stayed open Wednesday and Thursday nights until 8:30.
What would you be doing if the place weren't open? I asked the teens.
"Be either at work or in the house," Blaylock said.
"Probably not that," Walker said. "Be on the corner."
The hard corner
But the corner is getting less hospitable. Four weeks ago, Blaylock's cousin was shot to death outside the bar, called the Easy Corner.
Butler says the push of Drexel and Penn students has flushed the drug dealers onto the community center's block.
"This was sacred ground, this block," Butler says.
The teens say the center offers more than an open door. Butler and his assistant director, Branon Gilmore, have created a community. The men have known each other since third grade, when they were city kids in Reading and relied on its clubs and community centers and sports leagues. Best friends for nearly 30 years.
Butler, a musician and Drexel grad in computers, has been at the center since 2000. He recruited Gilmore, who had been working at Temple in admissions.
"I'm just trying to bring the values I grew up with," says Gilmore, a former high school quarterback.
I was still struggling with making sense of the subway attacks.
So what was going on with the Simon Gratz High School students accused of beating a Starbucks manager? It was a lot to ask a conference room of teens pulled from their games.
What were these Gratz kids looking for? I continued. Were they just looking to fight? Did they need . . .
"A place to go where they're wanted," Chaz Walker said, finishing my sentence, if not my thought.
current mood: chill
current noise: "the stars" by moby
i love april fool's day on the internet...
Introducing Gmail Custom Time - Be On Time, Every Time
How do I use it?
Just click "Set custom time" from the Compose view. Any email you send to the past appears in the proper chronological order in your recipient's inbox. You can opt for it to show up read or unread by selecting the appropriate option.
Is there a limit to how far back I can send email?
Yes. You'll only be able to send email back until April 1, 2004, the day we launched Gmail. If we were to let you send an email from Gmail before Gmail existed, well, that would be like hanging out with your parents before you were born -- crazy talk.
current mood: soaked from the knees down (silly spring rain!)
current noise: "electric feel" by mgmt
Introducing Gmail Custom Time - Be On Time, Every Time
How do I use it?
Just click "Set custom time" from the Compose view. Any email you send to the past appears in the proper chronological order in your recipient's inbox. You can opt for it to show up read or unread by selecting the appropriate option.
Is there a limit to how far back I can send email?
Yes. You'll only be able to send email back until April 1, 2004, the day we launched Gmail. If we were to let you send an email from Gmail before Gmail existed, well, that would be like hanging out with your parents before you were born -- crazy talk.
current mood: soaked from the knees down (silly spring rain!)
current noise: "electric feel" by mgmt
