The good folks at Open Book interviewed me about my poetry collection, Arguments for Lawn Chairs. Read it to find out my thoughts on the importance of titles, and to see some of my newer poem and story titles!
My poetry collection, Arguments for Lawn Chairs, will be launching this Sunday at Supermarket, along with other great books! If you’re in the city, come on out!
Stone Woman by Bianca Lakoseljac
The Sea-Wave by Rolli
Arguments for Lawn Chairs by Aaron Kreuter
Coming Here; Being Here
& A Second Coming ed. Don Mulcahy
Freeze by Stephen Orlov
Sarah & Abraham by Sarah Engelhard
Every Night of Our Lives by Rocco de Giacomo
Date with Destiny by Hélène Rioux trans. Jonathan Kaplansky
Free admission + lots of tasty refreshments!
Date: September 11, 2016
Time: 3:30 PM
Place: Supermarket Restaurant & Bar, 268 Augusta Avenue, Toronto ON M5T 2L9
To welcome my first book of poetry, Arguments for Lawn Chairs, into the world, come on out to the Steady on June 9th, for a night of poetry, music, and celebration!
When: June 9th, 2016, 8:30
Where: The Steady, 1051 Bloor Street West
Poster: See below
Where Has Inky the Octopus Gone?
Or, Animal Intelligence
The question on all our minds:
where has Inky the octopus gone?
Well, Inky’s gone to the Sorbonne.
Inky’s just about finished his Proust.
Inky’s writing a treatise on the nature of time.
Inky just received a SSHRC (Inky’s funding
will be adjusted accordingly).
Inky’s headed towards Jerusalem to resume negotiations.
Inky believes in a binational one-state solution (obviously).
Inky just read sixteen books on ethnic cleansing.
Inky just saw the video on YouTube showing
all the nuclear bombs we’ve set off (so many in the ocean—why?! Why?!).
Inky just learned about factory farms.
Inky’s had enough.
Inky’s decided we’re beyond help.
Inky’s decamped from our front lawn.
So don’t ask where Inky’s at,
because Inky, well, Inky’s gone.
Paul Auster on coincidence in fiction ( From “Interview with Larry McCaffery and Sinda Gregory,” The Art of Hunger, pages 287-288):
“From an aesthetic point of view, the introduction of chance elements in fiction probably creates as many problems as it solves. I’ve come in for a lot of abuse from critics because of it. In the strictest sense of the word, I consider myself a realist. Chance is a part of reality: we are continually shaped by the forces of coincidence, the unexpected occurs with almost numbing regularity in all our lives. And yet there’s a widely held notion that novels shouldn’t stretch the imagination too far. Anything that appears “implausible” is necessarily taken to be forced, artificial, “unrealistic.” I don’t know what reality these people have been living in, but it certainly isn’t my reality. In some perverse way, I believe they’ve spent too much time reading books. They’re so immersed in the conventions of so-called realistic fiction that their sense of reality has been distorted. Everything’s been smoothed out in these novels, robbed of its singularity, boxed into a predictable world of cause and effect. Anyone with the wit to get his nose out of his book and study what’s actually in front of him will understand that this realism is a complete sham. To put it another way: truth is stranger than fiction. What I am after, I suppose, is to write fiction as strange as the world I live in.”