Sunday 21 August 2011

Pulse: Additional Miscellany

Steve befriends a camel.
It would be fair to say Steve Rudd's Pulse is a lengthy book.  It runs to an unprecedented 98500 words - though of course, that's only unprecedented for Valley Press; I'm not suggesting it's the longest book in history, though I admit I don't have the statistics to hand.  Either way, the editing and typesetting on this occasion took rather a long time - much longer than I originally planned, in fact - and though the text is a constant delight, even the man working on publishing a newly discovered edition of the Bible ('My Life: By Jesus') will find his attention wandering sooner or later.

So it came to pass that, in order to entertain myself, I began to play a series of what might have been drinking games - if I was reckless enough to drink whilst 'on the job'.  As readers, you bear no such responsibilty, so if you want to play along, take a shot each time:

  • Steve mentions Jack Kerouac
  • Steve stumbles upon a branch of 'McDonald's'
  • Steve mentions Facebook in a disparaging manner
  • Steve is saddened after observing a less-than-100%-honest business practice
  • Steve is mistaken for Chris Martin from Coldplay 
  • Someone 'kowtows' to something

Not mentioned are 'Steve boards a means of transport' or 'Steve eats something', as playing the game with these rules will lead to serious liver damage.  Also missing is the one that brought me the most delight during the editing process, as it is sadly no longer relevant: 'Steve consumes something out of a punnet'.  I noticed this curious trend early on; I've never established what Steve thinks a punnet is, but I believe it to be a small basket in which you might put some fruit or vegetables (see illustration below).  With this in mind, I was puzzled to see the humble punnet appearing in all manner of unlikely contexts throughout Steve's original draft of Pulse, some of which I reprint below:

  • 'For five rupees, a scolding hot punnet of Nescafe hit my throat where it hurt.'
  • 'Favouring train travel (if only for the early morning punnets of 'chai' and delicious omelettes served by mobile vendors on-board)...'
  • 'Various concoctions of medicine were relayed to patients prior to their main meal. I joined the queue of volunteers to help dole out white plastic punnets filled with a tablet or two, along with a nut chaser.'
  • 'Seated and satisfied with punnets of caramel-laced popcorn, we were fools to get comfortable.'

As you can imagine, I began to be deeply perplexed and disturbed by this trend - I hadn't even heard the word 'punnet' for the fifteen years prior to my starting work on Pulse!  I didn't quite know how to tell Steve about it; I believe I said very gently: 'Steve... can I just ask you... what's with all the punnets?'  We eventually agreed to remove most of these instances, though I have left the popcorn one in the final book for sentimentality's sake - watch out for it when you read.

With an understanding that I mention these things as possibly the world's biggest fan of Steve and his writing, I'm sure you'll allow me to bring up a couple of other points.  When running an initial spell check on the book, my poor computer went beserk - not because Steve is a poor speller (far from it!), but because he has a tendency to invent words where existing ones don't quite do the job.  So now, in association with the Oxford English Dictionary (basic edition), I can present the twenty-four new words invented by Mr. Steve Rudd for his first book:

promenaders, animalistically, linguistical, vagabonder, automisation, desertscape, metrosexualised, skyscraping, monotonal, wisening, technicoloured, patronaged, wisen, glammed, unentranced, resaddled, palmful, headlessly, wisened, iconically, nutted, transportational, behemothic, overlanding

I've actually left most of them in; they all make sense to some degree, and I'm secretly a big believer in this practice myself.  There are certain things I 'always do' in my books, when writing, and one of them is to include a word not featured in the OED - I'm hoping one day to appear as a source.  Trivia fans will be interested to note in The Dead Snail Diaries it was 'conversate' - '...in fact, I learnt to conversate...' - though I have since learned the word is an accepted part of 'black slang', so it's unlikely that a man once described as 'so white it's almost beyond belief' will be credited for inventing it.  Steve's chances are somewhat higher.

And then there's his trademark way of starting a new article, which is to capitalise the first sentence.  For example, if I were to document the last half hour of my life in a Rudd-esque fashion, I'd probably start it: 'I LOGGED ON TO THE EDITING SOFTWARE FOR THE VALLEY PRESS BLOG, AND KNEW A TAPESTRY OF LITERARY ACCOMPLISHMENT WAS ABOUT TO UNFOLD.'  This is actually an effective strategy, and one with a long, noble history in literature - though that didn't stop me making a list of the section openers which would be quite funny taken out of context.  So here are some teasing headlines to give you a flavour of the action at hand:

  • DUMBSTRUCK BY A DUST-STRICKEN OCEAN OF CAMELS
  • EMERGING FROM SPIRITUAL SLUMBER, I COULDN’T BELIEVE MY EYES.
  • WISELY, NOT ALL OF US CRAVE CHANGE.
  • ‘FLY, LITTLE BIRD, FLY!’
  • IT SOUNDED LIKE CHILDBIRTH.
  • GIVEN THE CHANCE, INDIANS LOVE TO MAKE A RACKET.
  • MOSQUITOES CAN SEEMINGLY SENSE SWEET BLOOD FROM A THOUSAND PACES.
  • I’D FINALLY DISCOVERED A ROUTINE WHICH NOURISHED MY SOUL
  • WE WONDERED WHY HE WAS POINTING THE FINGER.
  • IT APPEARED TO BE A SAD STATE OF AFFAIRS ON THE SURFACE.
  • TAPPING THE MAN’S FOREHEAD, THE CONDUCTOR ACCIDENTALLY DEFACED THE SLEEPING PASSENGER’S THIRD EYE.
  • ‘MAN! DON’T WORRY! BORROW MY BIKE AND TAKE A FERRY TO LOMBOK!’
  • I’D BECOME EVERYTHING I DESPISED; I’D BECOME WOEFULLY PREDICTABLE.
  • AT LEAST THE VACATIONING FRENCH GIRLS CONSIDERED IT FUNNY.
  • ‘HARDY! I’M LOOKING FOR A HARDY! I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU KNOW A HARDY, DO YOU?’
  • THE DAWN CHORUS WAS AS UNBEATABLE AS IT WAS UNREPEATABLE.
  • ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S NOT A SINGLE BANK MACHINE ON THE ENTIRE ISLAND?’
  • ‘GET A BIKE, YOU LOSER!’
  • THE FINEST EATERIES TEND TO BE THE MOST SECRETIVE.
  • THEY WERE CLEARLY NOT ‘AU FAIT’ WITH THE INEVITABILITY OF SPINAL COMPRESSION.
  •  ‘IT’S NOT FUNNY. I HAVE BRUISES ALL OVER MY LEG.’
  • WHY DID THE CHICKEN REALLY CROSS THE ROAD? (Steve follows this with: 'Because it was cooped in a liberal country where it could!')
  • DASHING IN FRONT OF THE BLOOD-RED ‘SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND’ TRUCK WASN’T THE WISEST MOVE I’D EVER MADE.
  • ‘WHAT ARE WE DOING? WHERE ARE WE GOING?’
  • IT WASN’T THE TYPE OF DAY TO BE PRANCING ABOUT OUTSIDE
  • AT NATURE’S MERCY, I EXCEL; I THRIVE; I NEVER FEEL MORE ALIVE.
  • VERY LITTLE COMPARES TO THE HEIGHT ADVANTAGE OFFERED BY PLANES.

I think the last one there is my favourite; you just can't argue with that, can you.  I like to imagine him saying those bits in an unnaturally loud and monotone way; try it yourself - when your significant other comes home, smile and say: 'VERY LITTLE COMPARES TO THE HEIGHT ADVANTAGE OFFERED BY PLANES.'  Then come back here and tell us how they reacted.

That about wraps it up, though there is a neat coincidence that I've yet to discuss.  In Pulse, Steve mentions a few musicians his 'sensitive temperament' is 'more suited for' - and one of them is Miles Cain, whose poetry collection The Border is the next book scheduled for publication by Valley Press!  It's almost like Steve is 'passing on the literary torch', which could be a nice tradition if there was any chance of it happening again.  I made a note of what page this mention was on (pg. 124), so I could tell Miles when I saw him, but this knowledge came in useful sooner than I thought. When me and Steve accosted Edwina Hayes with a view to her appearing at the launch, Steve told her she was mentioned, and began flicking through the proof copy trying to find the sentence, which was of course the same one as Miles' shout-out.  'I think you'll find that's on page 124,' I said casually. Steve turned to the page, then looked at me like I had just performed an earth-shattering feat of mental acuity.

'Do you know the whole thing off by heart?!'  He asked me, stunned.  I decided to play along, thinking that this talent would never be tested.  'Oh yeah,' I replied, casually.  'All part of the Valley Press experience.'  Steve (and possibly Edwina) went away impressed that night, and I promptly forgot about this moment - until the launch came around, and someone asked Steve to read the passage from the book where he encounters a cockroach.

'No trouble!'  He said, turning to me. 'What page is that on then, Jamie?'  Caught off guard, I began frantically flicking through the pages, unable to remember even which continent that moment had occured on; I could see the disappointment creep over Steve's face as he realised I was not, in fact, the natural successor to Rain Man.  'I thought you knew the whole thing by heart!'  He said, sadly, and in the end he found the extract several minutes before I did.  There's a clear moral here; don't tell lies, as they often come back to haunt you.  Oh, and also, that you should buy Steve's book - it's excellent, and now you've had the education provided by this post, you can enjoy it on a whole new level.

Sunday 14 August 2011

VP Live: Saturday August 13th

Valley Press was all over Yorkshire this Saturday, attending the first ever 'VP book signing' at the Scarborough branch of Waterstone's, and performing as part of the 'Poetry Showcase' at Bridlington's Spotlight Theatre.  I was there with my camera to capture some highlights, and thus the photo recap below was born...

The Valley Press table - sadly not a permanent feature in the shop - organised on the day by 'merchandising' whizz and all-round genius staff member Sean Lewis.

The day was a big one for collaboration - I left home that morning with two heavy boxes of books, in a superbly designed wheeled suitcase (almost classifiable as a sled) which had been donated to the VP effort by Jo Reed the previous Thursday.  Steve Rudd was also there during the initial trek, to help with another bag containing sellotape, blu-tac, the signage, a small bowl... all the other important items needed for the day's success.  In addition to this, we recieved several lifts from Helen Burke and her partner Phil (star of her poem, 'Why I Fancy Him'), and James Mcloughlin made a four-hour journey from Southport under his own steam, all to aid the VP effort.  This is what Valley Press is about, of course - great authors coming together to be greater than the sum of their parts, to offer a bit of mutual assistance.  As I considered the people I'd published since May, I felt a great sense of pride.  Here's a photo of all of us, taken by the multi-talented Phil:

One for the scrapbook - five VP authors in one place.  Left to right, James Mcloughlin, Jo Reed, Steve Rudd, Jamie McGarry, Helen Burke.

As part of my continuing interest in raffles, there was one held during the signing - visitors were invited to enter in order to win signed copies of all five books; worth 30p of anyone's money I believe.  The raffle was eventually drawn as we departed at 4pm, by Waterstone's staff member John (who pointed out a flaw with my administration of the raffle, which I won't reprint here, thus relegating the flaw into the fog of history).  The winner of the raffle was David Goh, who I have been emailing recently regarding his book about how to improve your skills at lawn bowling using sophisticated mental techniques.  Should that end up being published, you heard it here first!  His victory must be a good omen for that book.

James Mcloughlin explains something; possibly a sophisticated technique on how to improve your lawn bowling.

James and Steve wait for the rush to start.  I attempted to kick it off by personally approaching every person who came in and informing them of the remarkable gathering currently taking place.

With the signing wrapped up, we bid farewell to James and Jo, and the remaining VP-sters headed to Bridlington for the 'Poetry Showcase', which was hosted and organised by yet another one of the fold, Deirdre McGarry, pictured below introducing us with a glowing monologue which allegedly made me blush.  'Even if you don't read the books,' she said, 'just pick them up, have a feel... they're beautifully produced items!'


There was a very healthy turnout for the 'Poetry Showcase' - even the Mayor of Bridlington turned up (that's him in the red tie and blue sash).  He was an unusually cool and hip Mayor by anyone's standards; I've never seen a politican make such a decent attempt at stand-up comedy.  Behind the performers (not pictured) was a dozen full-size original paintings by Nigel Folds, mimicing the Lonely Destiny launch, and meaning every author published by VP this year was involved in the day.

The only slight problem with this event was that Deirdre had neglected to mention the words 'Poetry Showcase' to me in the run up; it had always been referred to as the 'Spotlight Theatre'.  This put Steve in an interesting position, promoting his travel writing (and armed with nothing else), but I think we got away with it by introducing him as 'a poet who on this occasion will be delighting you with some poetic prose.'  Here he is at work:


Steve was bookended by me reading some of my snail poems (after which it was gently suggested that I retire them, lest I be known only for those two poems - 'it didn't hurt Frost!' was my response) and Helen reading from The Ruby Slippers.  She went down extremely well, in fact people were clamouring to pick up a copy before she even took to the stage!  Here she is charming the crowd:


We returned to our respective homes that night, tired and happy - thanks to all the authors for their contributions, and everyone who came to see us at both venues, it was all highly appreciated!  I'm aiming to top all this on the 22nd September with our Valley Press Reading, 6pm at Scarborough Library - more information on that soon.

Thursday 11 August 2011

Pulse: Launch Photos

Huge thanks to Craig Zadoroznyj for taking a great set of photos at the launch of Pulse, and allowing me to put them on the blog.  I knew they'd turn up sooner or later!  You can have a look at some of his other work here, but not before you check out the great snaps below...

Steve hard at work signing some books.  Note the two ladies to the left - none other than the winners of the raffle, whose unlikely success was documented in my last blog post.

Close-up of Steve signing a book.  I was really impressed by his signing skills - some of the best I've ever witnessed, beautiful work!

Steve fielding questions - a wry smirk here I think.

Steve continuing his Q&A, in this case clearly laughing at one of my great jokes.  To his right you can see one of the photos, 'carefully displayed', and a copy of a 'Pulse' map.

The lovely Edwina Hayes, who charmed us with her extraordinary talents - in the fields of both music and raffle-administration.

Another close-up of that excellent signature.  The atlas behind is an old one belonging to my mum - pre-dating Indian independence!

Sunday 7 August 2011

Pulse: Launch Report

So it's away!  On Friday 5th August, The Bell in Driffield hosted the launch of Steve Rudd's Pulse, the sixteenth Valley Press book, notable for being the longest, most lavish production to date - 312 pages of writing, with a 16 page colour insert (I've got those stats off by heart, very proud).  As of yet only one photo has emerged, which you can see to your right - but if anyone reading this was there and took some snaps, please do get in touch and share them, perhaps for inclusion in a future post?

The spectacular evening started with a song from Ben Parcell (a Green Day cover, no less) and moved on into an extended Q&A with Steve, during which we collectively probed the depths of his well-travelled mind.  We were also graced by international folk sensation Edwina Hayes, who not only performed some of her beautiful music, but also helped no end with the raffle - turns out she's a seasoned raffle veteran!

If you're wondering, the raffle was a last-minute idea, in which visitors were offered the chance to win a signed, one-off A2 print of each of the photos below, as featured in the Pulse insert:


The idea behind getting the photos produced was originally to have them stuck behind Steve as he fielded questions - I always like to give people something to look at as well as hear.  In the end, however, not only did I end up paying twice as much as expected to have them done, the wall behind Steve had been waxed and polished to such an extent that they wouldn't stay stuck for more than a few seconds... the tropical heat that night probably didn't help either!  So they were carefully laid down behind Steve on a table, and offered to visitors as prizes in the raffle.  In a further twist, the winners of the photos were Sarah T. (an important person in Steve's life, and someone who features throughout Pulse) and a lady who was attending the event with her; the chances of that happening (if anyone's interested) were 0.4%.  Clearly there was a certain magic in the air that evening!

I've made some additional notes on the book which I may translate into a review - certainly another blog post - so look out for that soon.  In the meantime, enormous thanks from myself and Steve to everyone who came; I hope you're spending this weekend reading the entirety of his finely-written exploits!

Tuesday 2 August 2011

Rudd's Reviews: James Mcloughlin's Encore

Latest Valley Press author Steve Rudd is continuing his attempt to review every VP publication from 2011, though sadly his travel-weary netbook is struggling to load up the blog; thus, I will be posting the articles for him.  The next book to fall under his critical microscope is Encore by James Mcloughlin, so without further ado, over to Steve...

Ripping at the seams with thirty-three profound poems, Encore couldn’t be any more apt as a title, for the reader is left craving for much, much more from this exciting young talent. Opening with the four-part title-piece, James comments upon the changing seasons without further ado (‘I am a guest at nature’s costume change’), going on to regulate the beat of ‘A Calmer Child’ with an alternative but no less alluring rhythm: ‘I was a hassock child, kneeling at the altars of faraway trees and galleons, gallivants and glory’. Literally within a minute, James eloquently transports all those willing to read and reflect on his entrancing train of thought, his reality-rooted flight of fancy.

‘Expanding Borders’ boasts a volley of superb lines (consider the oft-repeated chorus-line ‘A twenty-year-old’s expanding borders are not of outstanding order’ for instance), while the genius of ‘For Ireland’ - a personal favourite - reveals itself with a startling succession of perfectly conceived line-breaks, leaving ‘the flame of the wordsmith, silent, exiled’. The questioning nature of ‘Digested Read’ (‘The pointless comet hurtles closer’) looks towards ‘Lost Bothers’, the latter piece a beautiful poem in which James unleashes his anger at the speed of time’s indifferent passing. Indeed, ‘Where does life go and when does it come around again, to make hours happy?’

‘Lucidity I’ (‘I wore his garb to advise myself to cut my love’) runs into James as he expertly details a detached encounter with his own conscience. For those folk hopelessly hankering after love-leaning poetry, ‘Remind You’ proffers terse observations about love and its associated fallout, maturely acknowledging ‘the river of guttural instinct’. ‘Photos in the Sun’ proves equally as pensive, before the deliciously dark thrum of ‘Mud Money’ (‘Cigarette fugues and blackened teeth speak for bodies in the ground’) leads readers towards the insightful mastery of ‘OCD’.

Few poems are as poignant as the purposefully misspelt ‘Wntr’ (‘Their wrinkled laughs don’t tell of autumn or age – just wisdom’) which revolves around an aged couple unwittingly approaching the inevitable, yet the crafty arrangement of ‘Trampoline’ imprints the most impact, its cliffhanger of an ending proving delightful as opposed to frustrating.

In spite of having spent so much time on Merseyside and in Yorkshire (he’s in the midst of undertaking a degree in Leeds), James often alludes to America in his writing, yet his style remains distinctly British, the quality of language artistically framing his output in both time and place. Splurges of his poems closely resemble song lyrics, yet the deep and meaningful nature of all that’s conveyed elevates every aspect of the content, not least because all manner of themes are embraced. Luring readers into his world, James uses vivid description to his advantage, regardless of whether he’s muscling through disdainful reality, or his fantastical imagination.

If one didn’t know that he’s in his early twenties, it certainly wouldn’t be obvious to the casual poetry consumer. The manner in which sentences flow and stories emerge speaks volumes about James’s ability to capture moments and distill emotions. What’s more, his work manages to be as true-to-life as it is fiendishly surreal, the idealistic ‘I Imagine’ (‘I imagine arid deserts that heighten the glory of the saviour, the oasis…’) sharply contrasting with the textured flavour of ‘Tangible’. Evidently - and understandably - confident about his way with words, James is teetering on the verge of a glittering literary career. Remember where you heard his name first.