Staff Picks!: October 7th, 2016

Welcome to Staff Picks!, a selection of the authors and artists our staff are currently reading, viewing, and loving. Here are their thoughts.


speak-memoryJulia Kaempf is reading:
Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov

“In Speak, Memory, Vladimir Nabokov guides the reader back through his memory, weaving together impressions from his childhood in Saint Petersburg, its shattering with the Bolshevik Revolution, his exile from Russia, and the life he made afterwards. This memoir is worth reading if only to study the prose Nabokov uses in recollecting moments from his past, which are pinpointed with incredible precision, yet still feel elusive, as memories often do. If you are looking for a book that is as informative as it is beautifully written, that creates a sense of nostalgia like no other narrative, and that will make you want to become a more intentional writer, Speak, Memory is for you.”

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Michael Williams is reading:notesofanativeson
Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin

“This week I am reading Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin. Through nonfiction essays, Baldwin examines the existential dilemmas of identity that arise from American culture. Contemporary issues of race, class, and justice are relevant in this collection of essays. The ways by which systemic injustice dehumanizes individuals and fractures identity is illustrated throughout the book.”

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untitled
Celeste Caldwell suggests:
Tracey Emin

“As an obsessor of contemporary art, one of my life goals is to attend Art Basel in Miami and in 2011, my mother so viciously went without me, bringing back only an obnoxious smile and a brochure magazine. Honestly, I expected a priceless work of art because that was all that I felt could quench the betrayal. Disappointed, I stalked the magazine which highlighted the festival and saw a piece by Tracey Emin which I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I was fourteen—I told you I was obsessive. The other day, I found some neon signs featured on urbanoutfitters.com and that’s when I realized that the populous must be educated on the existence of neon art. There are plenty of artists working in this form worth your time, but since I know you have responsibilities, I just urge you to browse that of my favorite. Tracey Emin is a feminist killa after my own heart; a hopeless romantic who clings to a sarcastic, pessimistic view of relationships. I feel that her neon sculpture broadcasts the bold feelings of a modern woman unafraid to spell out both her sexual and emotional needs in a light which can’t be ignored. That’s true badassery, to tell off the fuck boy that broke your heart in a medium which is often used to advertise McDonald’s.”  (featured above, the piece which still haunts my psyche: I Listen to The Ocean And All I Hear is You by Tracey Emin, 2011, Neon, 91 x 211 cm)


8430331964_d17994fbab Tim Housand is reading:
Taipei by Tao Lin

The most prominent blurb on the back of Tao Lin’s Taipei is a glowing recommendation from Bret Easton Ellis, who tweeted “With Taipei, Tao Lin becomes the most interesting prose stylist of his generation.” The blurb forgets to add the second half of the tweet, which continues: “…which doesn’t mean that Taipei isn’t a boring novel.” Taipei IS a pretty freaking boring novel, which makes sense, given that Tao Lin seems obsessed with the minutiae and technology-driven ennui of contemporary young Americans. Considering that Ellis pioneered this sort of manic, post-modern, exacting-to-anal retentive yuppie satire, the blurb is a knowing wink from the publisher and Tao Lin, giving away exactly what kind of novel you’re about to start. Taipei reads like an Ellis novel after an evening meal of muscle relaxants and PBR, although sometimes Lin’s prose achieves a mix of vagueness and emotional clarity that is more Being and Nothingness than American Psycho. Some people will definitely despise this, some will possibly love it: I give it a lukewarm recommendation, which is probably what Tao Lin wanted anyway.

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fullsizerender-3Marlena Kolesinska is reading:

“Homunculus” from Karen Skolfield’s Frost in the Low Areas

“Karen Skolfield’s collection of poems, Frost in the Low Areas, seems eager to examine and find meaning in the often-overlooked and ordinary aspects of our daily lives. Her poems range from speaking of pineapples, babies, and meteorites to Botox, cherries, and dead bodies, however, a poem by the name of “Homunculus” seems to be especially peculiar. This absurd yet strangely comforting poem questions what would happen if these little people called homunculi were to make up the seemingly insignificant parts of our lives, living in orzo, popcorn pieces stuck in the couch, and even in human teardrops. Yet, most people do not know what a homunculus really is, allowing Skolfield to explore elements of identity and existence through this fun, quirky little poem.”

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4990a13d-5cff-40b9-bc7a-8741685e170b Morgan Bradham suggests:
Superior Doughnuts by Tracy Letts

“In Superior Donuts, American playwright Tracy Letts (August: Osage County; Man from Nebraska) takes us on a comedic and yet also heartwarming journey through the past life and current struggles of Arthur, a washed-up donut shop owner living in modern day Chicago. While the play prods relevant social issues, we’re also left to interpret the answers to these questions in such a way that encapsulates our basic human needs and desires, including the needs and desires of those around us.” 

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41oxt7khoul-_sx331_bo1204203200_Emily Clark is (re)reading:
Just Kids by Patti Smith

“This week I am reading Patti Smith’s Just Kids. Smith’s anecdotes of her barely-adult-hood in New York with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe are gritty and lovely. It reads like The Hobbit if every important punk or rock and roll artist’s saga were Lord of the Rings, where what seems like nearly every important name in art from the 1970’s is in yolk-form, just bumping into each other willy-nilly on the then less expensive streets of New York City. Before-they-were-them artist content aside, this work is emotional and good and you should read it.”

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41m5zc8x3l-_sx258_bo1204203200_McKayla Conahan is reading:
Dismantling the Hills by Michael McGriff

“It’s surprising that it’s taken me this long to get my hands on one of Michael McGriff’s collections. As soon as the book arrived in the mail from Powell’s, I dropped all other obligations for the night so I could have some quality time with his poetry, and it did not disappoint. His voice is poetic plain speak. The only words I ever had to look up were the vocabulary associated with construction working and land clearing, which accurately denotes the kind of world his poems hail from. The poems in this collection take what it means to be working class and soak it in all the overlooked beauty in the world. McGriff’s poetry is smart, but not elusive– sentimental, but not melodramatic. He captures the life he knows in Coos Bay, Oregon, in ways anyone on this planet will understand by asking the reader to not judge, but rather observe.” “I’m pulled/ to a place in the hard earth where the wind/grinds over the ridge bearing the wheels of tanker trucks/oiling the access roads, where deer ruin the last of the plums./ where the sloughs shrink back to their deepest channels./ and I can turn away from nothing.” (“Iron” Michael McGriff)