Archive for November 2011
Squid Ink does not burn
Never let Squid Ink loose in a library again
N.B. Squid Ink does not condone the burning or destruction of books.
Do you drop ship?
One common question I’ve had has been “do you really have your books on hand”? The short answer is, yes, I most certainly do. I take individual photos of each book/magazine/part-work as opposed to taking scans of them on my scanner as you can see whether the book is damaged or not. I do my best to take the best photo ensuring there is a bit of space around the book so you can see if there is damage, you should be able to zoom in and see any problem areas, if you’re still uncertain I describe the physical damage and if that’s not enough you can always email me and I can send more photos or if you’d really prefer, I do answer the phone on most occasions. Until recently I was surgically attached to my mobile I am trying to cut the apron strings. I could scan them now as in my new location the scanner is right behind me, but I won’t as I believe photos are best for my buyers.
Back to the original question. I don’t drop ship, the book is physically on the premises and I’ve handled it every step of the way. The photo is original and is of the book being listed.
SAC, the revised version
The boy looked familiar, I couldn’t quite place him, we see so many people in the store some of the faces blur. I do my best but if they only come in once it’s hard to remember them. He was at the table checking tickets and I had plenty of time to look at him, when we enchanged glances there was no recognition in his eyes.
I moved in and found my boys. It was the Scout Banquet, we’d been looking forward to this for some time, they were so excited. They were in the Order of the Arrow and quite proud of the fact. They are good boys, very well behaved and rarely in trouble, I trusted them to get themselves to the hall on time. I smiled at their enthusiasm. They were meeting friends they only saw on camps and jamboree, there was much running round greeting people, they took me with them and introduced me carefully each time. I suddenly thought about that boy in the store less than a half hour ago.
He was just wandering back and forth in front of the store, looking so normal I may not have remembered him if it hadn’t been for the horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing. They look uncomfortable on him as if he wasn’t really used to wearing them. There was nothing to make him really stand out, no taller than me and reminding me very much of my two boys.
I watched him as he came through the door and picked up a few things in the store, not much, just the Saturday Evening Post, Reader’s Digest and a few things for an older person; aftershave, fingernail clippers and a package of pipe tobacco. I did wonder what his game was, had he been dared to steal a few things?
As he approached the cash register I acted normal, I smiled and asked how he was today. “Grand” he said. After I added up the bill I asked him if there was anything else. “I believe that will do the trick.” Polite, he was, it impressed me and made me think well of his mother.
He didn’t have any money, checked his pockets thoroughly and apologised for leaving his wallet at home. I liked him for offering to put everything back on the shelf but declined, I do like doing it myself to stop them taking it out the door. But he turned back to offer me a check and that’s when I realised what the game was. Play along, I thought, just for a while, then give Albert the signal to dial 911.
The check was loose, one of those convenience checks you pick up at the bank nearby. Didn’t make it out for the total but for $50. Oh, he did ask if it was ok but didn’t really expect an answer. I don’t think he heard the hesitation in my voice when I agreed.
Hard to continue acting as normal, my voice wavered when I asked for identification. No, no identifcation, claimed it was in his wallet, he did find a library card…eventually. Just the right amount of pocket checking, I wondered how often he’s done this. Checked this carefully hoping to find some sign of him being real. Even asked his address, couldn’t get that right, though, had to take the card back and read it.
I knew I had no choice, he was obviously not Thomas Findon as it said on the card.
Albert came when I called and I handed the card and check to him. Used all our signals so he could take them out the back and dial 911. The police are real fast in this area, I wouldn’t have to keep him long. Couldn’t though.
Passing time by putting his purchases in a bag, I made some small talk. Realised I should explain we didn’t keep that much cash on hand but that didn’t work. When he saw me almost in tears he understood and promised to come back later. We both knew he wouldn’t.
I came out from behind the counter when he started out the door and followed, calling his name, “Thomas”, then louder, “Thomas”. I knew he heard me as he didn’t run too hard, just enough to keep ahead. He seemed so much like my boys so I didn’t call “Stop thief”, didn’t even want to.
“Ma’am”
“Ma’am” a little louder.
I looked up. “Sorry officer, where were we?”
“Finish your coffee, ma’am. We’ll type this up for your signature.”
“That’s very good of you, Sergeant.”
The sergeant put some paper into his typewriter and started typing. The sound was mesmerising and I just sat and listened to it for a while. Suddenly it came to me…
“Sergeant! That boy at the ticket desk was the boy in the store. He was from out of town. He looked so different without his glasses.”
The sergeant noted it down and finished typing. I read it through carefully, signed it before standing up.
“If we have any more questions we’ll be certain to come by the store.”
“Yes, yes of course. Thank you for being so prompt.”
“All part of the service. You take care now.”
Reflective Commentary – This Boy’s Life
It’s been an interesting exercise. Out of the whole book I chose to do almost a monologue with the lady behind the counter in the check incident. It seemed to embody all of the lying and stealing by Wolff in the book while giving him different role models.
I had several different ways of dealing with this. I did consider writing it as if the Policeman was taking the statement or maybe with two policemen discussing it in the police station. Not only did I feel I couldn’t convey the motherly concern the lady had for Wolff, I found dialogue wasn’t working for me. I just couldn’t make it flow.
There were a number of possible angles I could have taken. There’s always Rosemary but that seemed too obvious. There were the step-siblings or Dwight but they didn’t speak to me as much as the check. I did consider giving a voice to Wolff’s rifle, the Winchester, or even to his Teddy Bear but I knew the check incident was for me as soon as I read it, it spoke to me, gave me much material and the words flowed once I found the right voice. I have many post its in my book until the check, those are the last ones.
Even though we only see the Policeman through his car standing outside the store as Wolff goes into the banquet I see him as being a symbol of the law that should have been invoked long ago to try and curb Wolff’s behaviour and the symbol of the law that should have dealt with Dwight and his abuses of Wolff and Rosemary. I also see him as the symbol of small town America when the Police would be called in to frighten kids into being better behaved. I also see him as a father figure, caring and doling out the punishment but rarely seen. I chose to show the caring by having him gently send her to meet her boys at the banquet and getting Albert to lock the store.
I see Albert as the support network, the people who are rarely seen but whose presence is felt by the support they give, this is why I’ve chosen to give him very little in this piece.
The Check – This Boy’s Life (SAC)
He was just wandering back and forth in front of the store, looking so normal I may not have remembered him if it hadn’t been for the horn-rimmed glasses he was wearing. They look uncomfortable on him as if he wasn’t really used to wearing them. There was nothing to make him really stand out, no taller than me and reminding me very much of my two boys.
My boys! I’ll meet them at the banquet, it’s not far and I’ll see them go in from here.
I watched him as he came through the door and picked up a few things in the store, not much, just the Saturday Evening Post, Reader’s Digest and a few things for an older person; aftershave, fingernail clippers and a package of pipe tobacco. I did wonder what his game was, had he been dared to steal a few things?
As he approached the cash register I acted normal, I smiled and asked how he was today. “Grand” he said. After I added up the bill I asked him if there was anything else. “I believe that will do the trick.” Polite, he was, it impressed me and made me think well of his mother.
He didn’t have any money, checked his pockets thoroughly and apologised for leaving his wallet at home. I liked him for offering to put everything back on the shelf but declined, I do like doing it myself to stop them taking it on their way out the door. But he turned back to offer me a check and that’s when I realised what the game was. Play along, I thought, just for a while, then give Albert the signal to dial 911.
The check was loose, one of those convenience checks you pick up at the bank nearby. Didn’t make it out for the total but for $50. Oh, he did ask but didn’t really expect an answer. I don’t think he heard the hesitation in my voice when I agreed.
Hard to continue acting as normal, my voice wavered when I asked for identification. No, no identifcation, claimed it was in his wallet, he did find a library card…eventually. Just the right amount of pocket checking, I wondered how often he’s done this. Checked this carefully hoping to find some sign of him being real. Even asked his address, couldn’t get that right, thought, had to take the card back and read it.
I knew I had no choice, he was obviously not Thomas Findon as it said on the card.
Albert came when I called and I handed the card and check to him. Used all our signals so he could take them out the back and dial 911. The police are real fast in this area, I wouldn’t have to keep him long. Couldn’t though.
Passing time by putting his purchases in a bag, I made some small talk. Realised I should explain we didn’t keep that much cash on hand but that didn’t work. When he saw me almost in tears he understood and promised to come back later. We both knew he wouldn’t.
I came out from behind the counter when he started out the door and followed, calling his name, “Thomas”, then louder, “Thomas”. I knew he heard me as he didn’t run too hard, just enough to keep ahead. He seemed so much like my boys so I didn’t call “Stop thief”, didn’t even want to.
“Ma’am”
“Ma’am” a little louder.
I looked up. “Sorry officer, where were we?”
“Finish your coffee, ma’am. Albert here tells me he can lock up. You go with your boys at the Scout banquet. Come by the station tomorrow to sign your statement.”
“That’s very good of you, Sergeant. Thank you for being so prompt.”
“All part of the service. You take care now.”
Just as an aside here. My teacher liked much about this story but she did suggest it could be written with a different starting point. She suggested it would be more interesting having the lady see Wolff as she walked in the door. I’m not quite certain about that but I’ve done it her way. I’d appreciate comments at the end of this exercise, the revised version will be published on Friday 25th November.
This Boy’s Life – Tobias Wolff
This Boy’s Life is a memoir of a few years in the life of Tobias Wolff. It is a well constructed story with no wasted words and details how hard it must have been for him growing up. His parents divorced relatively early on and his mother (Rosemary) wandered looking for a place to stay and looking for a man in their lives. Bear in mind this is 1950s America where it was thought every boy needed a father figure in their lives.
His father was profligate, made up stories about himself and changed his name according to what he needed it to be and Wolff was no different. In order to get into a ‘good’ school he created a persona for himself, then he created school reports and referrals to fit that persona, he also embellished his name to Tobias Jonathan von Ansell-Wolff, III.
His mother was not good at picking men. Her father was a bully and she seemed to only be able to pick men like that. She eventually married Dwight who she thought was a good pick but he ended up being worse than any other man. He bullied Wolff both physically and emotionally making things challenging for him.
It’s certainly an interesting read, I probably would have read it even without having it as a text as I like memoirs. Wolff is a very good writer, very skilled and you can see where he got some of his skills. At school he helped other boys with their writing, even doing some of their essays for them. He made up stories about what he’d done and went into quite some detail making sure to get the finer points correct.
Wolff was in the Scouting fraternity although this didn’t make him a paragon of virtue. He was in trouble (or should have been in trouble) far too often and he doesn’t pull any punches in detailing many of these incidents in this volume.
This memoir was made into a film in 1993 with Robert de Niro as Dwight and Leonardo diCaprio as Wolff. We saw a little of the movie in class and it was quite powerful.
Warnings: swearing, violence and boys being boys and talking about sex.
SAC for This Boy’s Life
The task was to write a creative response to Tobias Wolff This Boy’s life and then write a Reflective Commentary. It was suggested we write 800-1,200 words for our prose response and approximately 200-300 words for the Reflective Commentary.
We discussed this in class and did a lot of research at home for it. We had to read the book and make a decision as to what part(s) of the book we’d concentrate on. I read it very carefully and decided to write about the time Wolff tried to cash a false check (cheque).
The Reflective Commentary asked us to record and comment on the stages we’d gone through in the writing process. I found this a wonderful process as it meant I could put in all my thoughts prior to choosing this scene and then write even more about what else I’d done. Reading back on the details of the task I realise how much I left out but it was a task I enjoyed.
I read the book, chose the scene I wanted to use, scribbled lots of notes (only five pages, but it seemed more), wrote a draft of both parts and then wrote the final copy of each.
The section I chose was an incident where Wolff was trying to cash in a fake check (I’ve chosen to use the American spelling throughout as it’s an American book). I write more about Wolff’s behaviour as detailed in the book tomorrow. For the sake of brevity in the title I’ve called it SAC which stands for School Assessed Coursework and it’s an essay or composition done at school under exam conditions.
Puberty Blues – Gabrielle Carey & Kathy Lette
‘By day we were at school learning logarithms, but by night – in the back of cars, down behind the Ace-of-Spades Hotel and on Cronulla beach – we paid off our friendship rings.’
Puberty Blues is about top chicks and surfing spunks – and the kids who don’t make it – in a world where only the gang and the surf count.
Puberty Blues gives us the facts no one wants to face. It is a horrifying yet hilarious account of the way many young people live, and some of them die.
I didn’t read this book when it came out in 1979, I was reading mysteries, fantasy and science fiction back then and this doesn’t fit into any of those genres. It’s an interesting little book, the authors were fairly young at the time of writing, and the book is semi-autobiographical. It is a seminal work as it was the first novel written by teenagers about teenager behaviour.
This is not the teenage behaviour I got up to, not that I’m trying to distance myself from it in anyway. The behaviour is raw and it shows them trying to have sex at a very early age and sometimes succeeding, sometimes you can be too young and not physically ready for sex, that’s depicted in this book.
I have a love/hate relationship with this book. I didn’t like the content as it is so far removed from anything I ever did and from anything I could ever conceive of doing, but on the other hand it tells it like it was and probably still is in some circles. I love it and hate it for exactly the same reason, the behaviour depicted. It is a great book for documenting what actually happened and probably still does happen.
It’s available for sale here
Warnings. There is lots of sex, swearing and drugs as well as other inappropriate behaviour.
Nightfall and Squid Ink
Squid Ink reads Nightfall by Isaac Asimov
I hope night doesn’t fall, it could get a bit heavy to hold up.
Night falls with a crash, bang and wallop.
Alone, Cold, and Hopeless
by Chris Perridas
In Horror tales, one of the most desolate of tales is sheer hopelessness. The condition of loneliness drives people to acts of insanity and desperation. “Why did he commit suicide”, we shake our heads in wonder. “Why does she put up with that abuse,” we wag our tongues. The ultimate imprisonment is solitary confinement. Loneliness. When loneliness joins isolation and hopelessness, terror ensues. Tim Lebbon claims one of the best recent expositions of this with his story White.
A reasonably kind man, Lebbon has nevertheless imagined a tale in which snow brings isolation – and something ominous and deadly comes on its winds. His ability to describe around the monsters and their fiendish results without being explicit chills the reader’s imagination.
A classic tale is John W. Campbell, Jr.’s magnum opus, Who Goes There (1938). IT has been filmed by masters John Carpenter (1982) and Howard Hawks (1951). By sheer coincidence, the story might appear to be the third of a trilogy of Antarctic horrors starting with Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (circa 1838), continuing to H. P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness (written late Winter 1931) and culminating with Campbell’s work. All of these speak of miscellaneous and mysterious horrors in the bleakest part of our world – the Antarctic.
This story extracted from an 1855 New York Times newspaper sounds like a Jack London tragedy.
The story tells of a party trapped in a freezing blizzard, the only hope to chop up the wagons and burn them for heat. In a last desperate measure they killed the oxen, and stuffed a mother and her baby into the steaming innards. Alas, even that final hope failed, and death ensued. The human will is powerful, but ultimately a miscalculation, a brief moment of bad luck, and life snuffs out like a candle in the wind.
From this come trembling horror stories.
Previously published on the Miskatonic Books Blog on 5th October 2011. With thanks for letting me republish. Don’t forget to click through and read there as well.