Come One

New song. Been a while. This is the most recent song I’ve written, music and lyrics. Inspired by stuff I’ve written about here before. Some sloppiness but I’m thinking at this level it doesn’t matter.

Come One

Lyrics:

come on inside
sit by the fire
it’s on tv
and we can make believe
we’re watching news.

let’s take a ride
on our hard drive
we’ll cure the virus
spreading like the measles
of our youth

don’t we both just paint a picture
of people who don’t want to be known
two people will make one except if
that person doesn’t reach out to the only one they know

come on we’ll
reap with a scythe
and detox the night
at home
come on we’ll
seem like we’re right
and be who we want to know

come on let’s fight
about our life
we’ll reach a truce
when we realize the world
is not alone

it’s a delight
to be alive
in time we’ll find that we
can be on top of
what we love

Drum

Rejoice! Montag has a Myspace page. 13 downloads yesterday. People are listening.

About the Author

From the library:

Craig Clevenger, The Contortionist’s Handbook
Craig Clevenger, Dermaphoria
Andrei Codrescu, Messiah
Andrei Codrescu, Wakefield
John Colapinto, About the Author
Wanda Coleman, A War of Eyes

I came for the Clevenger and on a whim got some other books in the C’s. I have to admit I’ve never read a Black Sparrow book besides Bukowski and Fante so I got the Coleman. I hadn’t heard of About the Author but I read it first. I love books about writers.



The novel’s about a failed writer who steals his roommate’s novel a becomes a literary celebrity. He spends the rest of the novel trying to cover his tracks. Enjoyed it, a real page turner. Very prescient considering what’s been happening recently.

I haven’t written about the plagiarism case with the Harvard girl because everybody else was. And also: I don’t care. It’s hard to get worked up about a book called How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got A Life. It sounds terrible even if it was original. It’s a YA book, right, not heavy literature. I figure they crank out YA books like potato chips. The book shouldn’t be taken seriously, real or not.

I didn’t like how self-righteous everyone was getting about the writer, gleefully jumping all over a teenager. She fucked up, she’s a kid. This is just the literary world’s version of a tabloid scandal, i.e. the response was petty too.

I don’t think plagiarism or Frey is excusable, but the anger at writers seems misdirected. Frey was pressured by his publisher to call it a memoir. He seemed to be scapegoated for a larger problem. It’s not excusable that it happened, but it is understandable. The same goes for the Harvard student. The problem isn’t only that she got $500,000 for a fake book, but that she got paid $500,000 for a book of weightless chic-lit.

I am obviously a little defensive because of the Shirley Shave thing. I still don’t think Shirley Shave falls into the same category as those writers. I didn’t steal anything. Getting published in Best Sex Writing crossed a line, but to a much lesser degree. For your commenting pleasure, Anastasia, or Ass for short, left a comment in which she insults every commenter on Ash Tree.

North of Sunset Reviews

I’m going to use this to post reviews of North of Sunset and interviews.

Reviews

The first review was at Grumpy Old Bookman. The best thing came in a comment by Cantara Christopher: "It reveals the zeitgeist of Los Angeles with the understanding, even compassion, of a native son. It is the least cynical book about Hollywood I've ever read…I get the feeling that he’s attempting to stretch beyond Raymond Chandler, that he's going for Flaubert. I think in North of Sunset he succeeds. And he does it in only 270 pages, and one hell of a last line."

Dogmatika review. Best thing: "North of Sunset would make a fast-paced, successful movie, but don't be fooled in thinking that Baum's work is a pumped up script, it's most definitely not. The narrative is a taut as a drum and the dialogue effortless, making North of Sunset a page-turner and an example of an effective piece of storytelling that should be envied."

Poddy Mouth review: “The writing is stellar….I think you'll agree it is not so much who influenced the writing; it is who this writing will influence. Trust me when I say that this book is one you buy and one you keep.”

Compulsive Reader review: “Successful both as a suspenseful, engrossing thriller and as something more: a savage satire on aspects of modern American life in the vein of DeLillo‘s White Noise….Overall, North of Sunset is an outstanding feat of storytelling that will gain a wide readership.”

A review at Myspace’s Book of the Moment. She says: "Those of you looking for a fun summer read, here it is. North of Sunset has everything you need: romance, scandal, murder, mystery, contempt, happiness, fame and fortune."

Might make the book sound dumber than it is, but I’ll take it.

N. Frank Daniels, author of Futureproof, reviewed the book on his Myspace blog. "A uniquely crafted character study in the style of Elmore Leonard mixed with the social satire of Chuck Palahniuk."

Randy Radic's Sound of Meat review: “It's as if Raymond Chandler had been summoned from the afterlife by the Witch of Endor with the words, 'Send up the greatest, most profane noir-writer of them all'--and up popped Henry. It's that good.”

Mike Ferraro reviewed the book on LauraHird.com: “The cult of celebrity is a topic that weighs heavily on the author’s heart and he explores it throughout ‘North of Sunset’ with a thought-provoking deftness and lucidity…in this classic smart thriller.”

There’s a not so complimentary but well-thought-out review at Ready Steady Book. He says it's a "Gripping, readable story." Read my rebuttal to his review here and his response to my response here.

Read my book notes for the novel on Largehearted Boy. He says: “The rare piece of literary fiction that successfully combines a thriller with a healthy dose of popular culture. As the 'Vanity Plate Killer' roams the streets in the novel, Baum's insights into fame, film, and writing are ever present and welcome.”

A terrible review at Pod People that doesn’t bother me at all. He didn’t read the book as satire. Don’t get why people don’t see the satire—the book’s about a celebrity who kills people with vanity plates, that’s satirical enough.

A much nicer review at Podler.

Bookreview.com: “A must read Hollywood thriller.”

Reader Views: "A compelling read, well-written and brilliant."

Odyssey Reviews: Five Medallions. "You will not be able to put this book down once you pick it up. Beautifully written. Buy it."

Winner of the 2006 Hollywood Book Festival Grand Prize

Listed as the #1 self-published book in Entertainment Weekly:



Bonus: here's a recent review of my songwriting.

Authors

"In North of Sunset, Henry Baum has pulled off something pretty amazing: he has written a tight, pacy thriller that manages to lose none of its momentum, even as it reveals itself to be a savage satire on the narcissism, emptiness and ugliness at the heart of the Hollywood dream." Tony O'Neill, author of Digging the Vein

"The best Hollywood novel I've ever read, including my own." Richard Rushfield, author of On Spec

“A satirical, yet eerily naturalistic L.A. fable.” –Kim Cooper, the 1947 Project

Interviews

Dogmatika interview.

There’s an interview with me at Martha O’Connor’s blog.

Cesar Torres interview.

Excerpts

An excerpt at Scarecrow. Pages 178-181 in the novel.

Another excerpt at Storyglossia. It’s the second half of Chapter One.

Mop Men

This book rules. A disclaimer: we met on Myspace and traded books so it could look like I’m kissing up to him because he’s got my book in hand. But no, I really enjoyed this book.

A brief summary: the book follows around the owner and underlings of the Crime Scene Cleaners, guys who go around cleaning up the aftermath of suicides, strangely messy deaths, or murder scenes after the detectives have done their work. If someone takes a shotgun to his head, someone else has to clean it up so there’s no trace it ever happened. The stuff gets everywhere. Some very vivid and revolting imagery in this book, with pictures. It was profound to read about death talked about in this way: the physicality, the practicality. People don’t generally think about death in practical terms. It’s a tough and sometimes terrifying book, but necessary. The Hollywoodization of death has made death unreal.

There’s a thread in the book about the California gubernatorial election that elected Schwarzenegger, a man who has made a living out of making death meaningless onscreen. There are Dos Passos’ U.S.A.-like pieces of articles about the insane circus surrounding our ridiculous governor, mixed in with another jaunt to a horrific death scene. There are also courtroom transcripts which are in direct contrast to the glamorization on shows like Law and Order.

The book’s funny, if you’re wondering. Not non-stop grim. Though it did at times give me an uneasy feeling that there’s violence everywhere that I used to feel when I read true crime books about serial killers. I stopped reading those books a while ago. What’s best is watching the Crime Scene Cleaners from Emmins' point-of-view. He gets down and dirty and cleans up scenes himself and reacts like most human people would react: by throwing up and freaking out. So much non-fiction is overly objective and sterile. He’s unafraid to interject himself into the book, to have opinions. It's daring and alive. This is closer to Hunter Thompson, with more death than drugs.

It makes perfect sense that we should trade books. In some sense I could think that my novel trivializes death in the same way he’s pointing out. But in another way I think we’re writing about the same thing: it’s the unreality and desensitization that cause the movie star in my novel to lose it completely and start offing people. So I’m very damn glad to be in touch with this writer.

I’ve been reading a lot of books that have floored me recently, that I felt I needed to read. Great when that happens. Buy this book. He’s also in charge of the Spoiled Ink writing community. Check that out too.

Fictions

L.A. is a strip mall. It’s like the bad neighborhood in everybody’s city, the outskirts, the sprawl. You watch people walking--there’s a guy with a leather backpack, colored purple and red, looking both bruised and colorful. His legs are tanned, hair yellow, he’s got a smile on his face that’s not quite happy. What’s in the bag? Where did he buy such a god-ugly bag and why? And he’s just one person among many. An overwhelming number of minds. You see enough millions of these people, so many private worlds, it feels like swimming in the ocean. Not drowning exactly, just water everywhere.
_____________________________________________________________

Feeling much better today. Got my microphone yesterday, another SM57. Recorded some last night. I don’t know why I always forget that I like doing that. Started working on a song that I like, about my wife and I, with lyrics that begin:

come on inside
sit by the fire
it’s on tv
and we can make believe
we’re watching news.

let’s take a ride
on our hard drive
we’ll cure the virus
spreading like the measles
of our youth

Our new plan is to get a smudge stick.

Pretty New Age-y but we’re not opposed to it. My wife has been coming home from the library with piles of books about detoxing. We’ve got too many bad habits built up in our home. Whatever works. We have this little box that is supposed to clear electromagnetic interference. I’ll believe anything for five minutes.

Cicero

There’s a great interview with Noah Cicero at the Cesar Torres blog.

Snow White Tan

There’s a reason that I haven’t been writing too much about my life. We’ve reached a dead end here socially, absolutely tired of not meeting anyone here. As I’ve mentioned, my wife and I are deeply anti-social people, both writers, both made uncomfortable by many other parents. On Mother’s Day we went to a park--North of Sunset--where she listened to a set of parents boast about how many Audis they have. There’s a familiar look in their children’s eyes, a look of entitlement. I remember the look well from growing up around kids of the super-rich. Makes me feel bullied by a 3-year-old.

Olivia walked up to a group of girls, around five years old. One of the girls stood up and ran away, screaming, "I’m not allowed to talk to strangers! I’m not allowed to talk to strangers!" to a sweet 3-year-old. This is what happens when neurotic people have children. Parenting necessarily makes you both boring and neurotic, but some people embrace it more than others.

So we’re judgmental. We are just constantly alienated. And let it hit us too hard, instead of just laughing it off and moving on. We also both have had a tendency to make ourselves unconscious--not so much with drugs or drink, for the most part, just repression. Do our jobs, take care of our daughter, read a lot, write some, and don’t think about some of the emptiness. That, or we rail about how people suck so we can trade loneliness for self-righteousness, a way to gain power over people who make us feel low. We’ve been coming out of that bad dream recently, which is difficult, but more like being alive.

Had a fairly packed weekend. Went to my brother’s graduation for a social work degree at USC. That night, got a babysitter and went to the reading for Prisoner of X. Very tired by that point so I felt something like a social leper. I always feel like there’s more I should be doing socially, charming people, making friends. Saw an old friend that I knew back when I lived in Mpls. in a house full of slackers, which turns out was one of the more vibrant times of my life. Next day, there was a graduation party at my parents. I had some nice conversations, didn’t feel so much like I had leprosy.

My new plan is to start a rock band. It’s a good way to get me out of the house, meet some people. So I’m adding this to my Myspace page and trying to get the word out: If you live in L.A. and you’re interested in playing these songs and others, contact me. I also play drums so there’s that too. I don’t really want to play bass.

Let me know if you wanna start a rock band.

Justus

Justus Ballard, my labelmate on Cloverfield Press, started himself a blogspot blog. He links to a blog by someone who read both our stories, who’s also Reader of Depressing Books roommate. He writes:

The ones I got are "Gentleman Reptile" by Henry Baum and "The Cubist Infant" by Justus Ballard. I read each twice; both are very good. "Reptile" is the simpler story, about a man who finds out that his daughter has been appearing in internet pornography, then must reconcile his disgust with his own consumption of pornography and supercharged sexual appetite. Up until the end it's a decent story, but the closing paragraphs made me rethink it (although the final sentence is unnecessary, or maybe just too blunt), and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it, and it became a lot better than just decent.

And then a commenter goes and says, "I’m not sold on 'Gentleman Reptile.'" I can live with it.

Anyone sick of me posting interviews and reviews? I’m not, but it’s been quiet around here. It’s cool to be interviewed but I get the feeling that has more to do with flattering the ego than helping to sell the book. How do people sell books? I still don’t know. But maybe I shouldn't say that. Still, good things are happening and it has yet to fully play out.

Last night I had another apocalypse dream. I used to have them a lot more, around three years ago, explosions and planes dropping from the sky. I think I need to lighten up.

The Bitch Posse

Thanks go to Martha O’Connor for the interview on her blog. I bought her novel last summer when I went to see her reading at Barnes and Noble. This was in the middle of rewriting North of Sunset so I wasn’t reading much fiction at the time. Before that, we had a correspondence going where she gave me some good advice about publishing. I finally read The Bitch Posse over the winter and never wrote about it because I wasn’t really in the habit of writing about books I’d read. Now I seem to write about every book that crosses my path.

I have to admit that I was a little wary of her book at first. The novel is called "anti-chick lit" which reminded me of calling Avril Lavigne the anti-Britney Spears. This isn’t giving The Bitch Posse nearly enough credit, but I thought if it can be used in the same sentence, it’s sort of related to it. I’ve never actually read any chick lit. I imagine it’s something like "Sex and the City" and I’ve never seen an entire episode of that show. I caught part of a show where the main character’s main dilemma is tripping with her bags at Christian Dior. If anything is anti-that, I’m all for it.

The novel is kind of Anti with a vengeance. A dark read from start to finish. It follows the lives of three friends in high school, cutting well between the present and the past, the third and the first person. I enjoyed the book and read it quickly, which for me is saying a lot. So did my wife. It’s powerful and stuck with me these many months later. I’m looking forward to what she comes out with next. Buy the novel, it’s coming out in paperback.