Hello friends! Thanks for stopping by.

Literago’s on hiatus right now — meanwhile, check out the genius work our own Alba Machado is doing over at Literary Chicago. You won’t be sorry.

Thanks for reading! See you again soon - Eds.

Witness me in pregnancy: overinformed modern mother-to-be, sleepless with her laptop, several browser tabs deep into exhaustive comparison shopping for the perfect baby sling. I careened toward my due date nearly deafened by the voices of expert advice-givers; I weighed myself down daily with a fresh catch of anecdotes skimmed from baby-related listservs. For someone who didn’t know what the word “onesie” referred to until just before her daughter was born, I was determined to be a fast study.

One thing I knew for sure: it’s never too early to begin reading to a baby. A lifelong book lover, I figured I’d be naturally proficient at this task of parenting, if nothing else. Not only proficient, in fact, but blissed out. In pregnancy, I dreamed of cuddling in a comfy chair avec l’infant, paging through exquisitely illustrated books as sunbeams fell upon our heads.

I began to prepare, thinking about the books I’d loved as a kid—Leo Lionni’s A Color of His Own, the requisite Pat the Bunny and The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Onto the registry they went. I dipped deeper and deeper into lists and blogs, hit the kids’ section of the local bookstores, and slowly, I became heavy, not just with child, but with a realization: there are an awful lot of children’s books out there.

More than we could ever own. More than we could ever even check out from the library. Could I happily breeze through the children’s section and pluck a few of the abundant, perfectly decent titles off the shelves? I could not.

This wasn’t going to be the gentle, soft-focus pastime I’d envisioned. No, I was going to have to curate this kid’s reading life.….And so begins an essay I wrote a while back and published at Chapter 16, a literary culture site for the great state of Tennessee, where things like BasilMarceaux.com come from.

I don’t know why I haven’t linked it up here before now. But here it is–at least the first part of it. Please click through above to continue reading, will you?

Yes, we’re a few days into it, but you know, there are *three* whole days remaining to get your summer stash of used books at the annual Newberry Library Book Fair.  Stock is replenished daily, so don’t even think that all the good stuff is gone already. (Psst, here’s a hint: this year’s overwhelming bounty necessitated a separate area just for photography books, so don’t look for them in the art section!)  Browse, buy, and support the Newberry from noon to 8pm on Friday, July 30, and from 10am to 6pm on Saturday, July 31 and Sunday, August 1.  Be a good green citizen and bring your own bag, and try to bike or take public transit if you can- it can be difficult to park around there.  Check the Newberry’s site for more information, including links to the entertaining & informative Book Fair blog & podcast.

And if you’re coming on Saturday (and you really should come on Saturday), don’t miss this year’s Bughouse Square festivities from 1-4pm.  The library first honors Kartemquin Films with the annual Altgeld Freedom of Speech Award at 1pm, then the very timely main debate over gun control in Chicago kicks off at 1:30.  Also present will be a host of soapbox speakers holding forth on health care, Sarah Palin, Chicago government, and a variety of other topics.   And soapboxer extraordinaire, Mr. Ben Reitman, returns to his old stomping grounds to expound upon “The Art of Soapbox Oration, with an Historical Survey of the Most Distinguished Chicago Boxers.”    The fun & fantastic Black Bear Combo will be there too, with accordion, horns, drums & tuba.  Check the Newberry’s Bughouse Square page for a complete rundown of the day’s events.

As always, hecklers welcome.

OK, we’re all adults here, right?

I just discovered that folks in the Twitterverse (ugh. I hate that word.) are spouting off their #badkiddybooks inventions. Apparently there is some contest.

Some entries:

D-I-V-O-R-C-E: An Early Guide to Spelling (@SareyH)

What’s In Tommy’s Trousers? A Pop-Up Book (@GeneDoucette)

Hitchhiking, a Guide for Girls Daddy Never Loved (@weirdlucy)

Are You There, God? It’s Me, Lindsay Lohan. (@aard)

The Velveteen-Corsetted Rabbit and Her Leather Whip (@midos_mom)

….and lots, lots, LOTS more romper-room raunch.

Now you may return to whatever meaningful thing you were doing. Thanks.

Date: Tue, 7/20
Time: 6pm
Location: The Hideout/1354 W. Wabansia/773-227-4433
What: A brawl. Just kidding: A “Write Club,” reading, which we featured back in January when the series began, and which features writers with opposing ideas debating for 7 minutes per topic.

With Pitchfork over, we think you’ll be looking for another venue to expend that ornery energy, no? Then get thee to the Hideout on Tuesday for The Write Club, where the audience decides the “winner” of a spirited debate. This time, they’ll be fightin’ over “MIND” (Steve Heisler) vs. “BODY” (Ali Weiss); “FIGHT” (David Kodeski) vs. “FLIGHT” (Edward Thomas-Herrera); and “HEAVEN” (Emily Rose) vs. “HELL” (Ian Belknap).

When you read the reader’s bios below, we think you’ll be impressed enough to drag your tuckered britches out, Pitchfork-induced haze or not.

Ian Belknap hosts/curates this reading series that features a rotating lineup of some of Chicago most gutsy writer/performers to engage in literature as bloodsport. To the winning idea goes the glory and cash purse for their charity. The losing idea gets to pick its teeth off the canvas.

Emily Rose is a Chicago-born and raised poet and performer. She performs at poetry readings, open mics, and Poetry Slams around Chicago and nationally. An organizer in her community, she is currently a Real Talk Avenue Resident, member of the 2010 Mental Graffiti Team, a board member for Chicago Slam Works, a regular contributor and producer for The Encyclopedia Show, Tournament Director for Louder Than a Bomb, occasional host at The Green Mill, and much much more.

Edward Thomas-Herrera is a playwright and performer living and working in Chicago. He is currently working on a musical entitled “Hell is for the Very Hot.” He listens to a lot of opera and that makes him gay. Please visitwww.boygirlboygirl.org.

Ali Weiss is a freelance writer and videographer with a long-standing performance habit. A New York City native, Ali is a proud resident of Chicago’s Lincoln Square, where she produces a spoken word show called The Paper Machete at Ricochet’s every Saturday at 3pm. More info at alisonweiss.com.

Steve Heisler is a freelance pop culture journalist who writes for The AV Club, GQ, Details, Variety, TV.com, and the Chicago Reader. He’s also a comedy producer with Just For Laughs, a writer and performer with the Neo-Futurists, a regular at The Paper Machete, and a former member of the Time Out Chicago action squad. He’s a baller, shot caller, brawler—steveheisler.com 4 life, yo.

David Kodeski is the creator of “David Kodeski’s True Life Tales,” an ongoing series of critically-acclaimed solo performances. He is a founding ensemble member of BoyGirlBoyGirl and is currently working on a libretto in collaboration with Chicago Opera Vanguard based upon a suitcase full of mysterious letters bought via the internet. The opera is slated to premiere in 2011 at Queen’s College in Belfast.

Elisha Cooper! A children’s book author/illustrator from Chicago! It’s high time that I feature a Chicago author here at Kid Literago, right? Well, I’ve discovered an excellent one. Elisha Cooper and his family have officially left the Windy City for—where else—NYC, but his newest book, the totally lovely and charming Beaver Is Lost, is as Chicago-y a picture book as you’re likely to find among picture books that are not explicitly about Chicago. Look—is that the Kennedy?!:

(Note Beaver, there, atop the red logging truck.)

There are only two pages of text in Beaver Is Lost, one being that titular phrase, the other “Home.” (You can probably deduce which marks the beginning, and the end, of the story.) So it’s one of those image-only books that allows the reader to lend her own words to the narrative told by the pictures–in this case, pretty watercolors detailing Beaver’s accidental daytrip into Chicago. (Lucky Beaver. He lives close enough to just make a day of it in Chicago…ah, sorry, never mind.)  Beaver is happily gnawing a recalcitrant branch off a log, afloat in the Chicago River (or some tributary?) when his log is lifted onto a truck, to be shuttled many miles along with many other logs, into the city. He escapes the lumber yard and begins his search for home, passing through a swimming pool, the zoo, the sewers, the Loop, and across a bridge before splashing into the river that takes him back to his dam-building brethren.

It’s a fun, simple story that older readers can easily narrate–or that you, wise Literagoan, can narrate for your toddler. But here’s a confession: There are times when I just don’t feel like reading Beaver Is Lost (which was an instant huge hit with Thalia), and the lack of text is why. Simply put, I’m lazy, and you can’t just read Beaver Is Lost; you have to tell it.  It’s harder to make up the story as you go along, even if the story is clearly outlined for you in adorable images. And there’s this overachiever part of me that feels like I should make it snappy and fresh every time, or maybe snappy and consistent, with pitch-perfect words to tell my version of Beaver’s journey. Not that I have ever accomplished that. I just tell the story super casually, and depending on how tired and fried I am when bedtime rolls around, I fumble to remember the most basic words for things. (“Uh-oh, here comes the uh….grabber-thing…the, uh, crane, no, the claw….whatever, it’s picking up Beaver on the log, see? And look! There goes Beaver, through the, uh, the, big tube, I mean sewage pipe…”) No, reading Beaver Is Lost does not leave me feeling brilliant. And I don’t think there’s much chance that Thalia will be reciting my words to this one, the way she does with, say, Kate Banks’ downright poetic And If the Moon Could Talk (which I really should feature in a future post).

[Hey! How about a Literago contest in which readers create their own narratives for Beaver Is Lost, and we vote for the best one, and the winner gets Cooper's entire backlist, and....No? Not happening? Oh, all right...]

But my own laziness and off-the-cuff storytelling shortcomings aside, Beaver Is Lost is a joy, a very welcome addition to our shelves—not least because it’s set in beloved Chicago, but also because Cooper’s style is gorgeous. I’ve already checked a bunch of his former titles—Magic Thinks Big (about a cat who can’t decide whether to go out or stay in; you gotta love that); A Good Night Walk; Farm—out of the library. You should, too.

Evan Mandery was recently in town promoting his second novel, First Contact: Or, It’s Later Than You Think. A work of satirical science fiction in the tradition of Kurt Vonnegut, First Contact is about how a hyper-intelligent species of aliens called Rigelians travel light-years through the galaxy in order to convince Earthlings, by means of Bundt cake, if necessary, to steer off the course they are on towards total destruction of their planet. Mandery is also the author of another novel, Dreaming of Gwen Stefani; two works of non-fiction: The Campaign, a memoir of the 1997 New York City mayoral campaign, and Capital Punishment, an introduction to the major debates on the death penalty; and a play, Pastrami on Rye and Other Aspects of the Afterlife.

* * * * *

In the hands of a different writer, the themes of political abuse, religious fanaticism, the destruction of the environment, nuclear holocaust, the threat of alien invasion, and existentialism may have made for a devastatingly bleak book. What made you approach these weighty concerns with humor? At what point in your life did you start thinking that maybe the apocalypse could be funny?
 
The apocalypse has often been funny. It was in the hands of my writing hero, Vonnegut, and Douglas Adams. On the other hand it was definitely not funny in On the Beach or Deep Impact or Armageddon. Neither Ben Affleck nor Bruce Willis are in my book and I thought this substantially improved my chances for success. As a general philosophical principle, I think anything and everything, done right, is funny. The apocalypse is coming — the only question is when – so we may as well laugh about it.

Kurt Vonnegut and Woody Allen are clearly among your major influences. Your work, which has been compared to theirs, contains a great many references to them both. In what ways do you feel that you are indebted to them? And in what ways have you set out to establish your own distinct voice and style?
 
The only way I would compare myself to them would be to say that I’m not as good as either of them. I am deeply indebted to each of them for empowering me to offer the answer which I gave to the previous question: nothing is sacred, everything can be examined, and everything can be laughed at. My writing style is distinct and has changed with each book I have written, and I expect will continue to do so over the course of my career. I made some conscious effort to channel Vonnegut in this book.  It is intended as an homage to him. He died shortly before I began working on it. But I think this will be the exception over my body of work as it evolves. I am currently working on a non-fiction book about two Supreme Court cases on the death penalty and I highly doubt that it will evoke Vonnegut in any way. Although I am considering the following opening line:

Listen:
The Oomlagoons had just strapped Kilgore Trout into the electric chair.

How did studying to become a lawyer prepare you for life as a novelist?

I think academic writing and creative writing use different parts of the brain, so in no direct way. But I am far better editor for having trained as a lawyer. I strive and hopefully attain great clarity and try to make every word count.

Did you ever consider pursuing a degree in creative writing? Why or why not?

For better or worse I did not. I always had a yin and yang. I had creative impulses. I liked to stage and call mock horse races in Harvard Yard. But I was a serious student. Had someone said to 22-year-old me that I could get an MFA and go work in an office and become partner, I might have found that comfortable and appealing. It wasn’t until I was in my early-thirties that I understood just how awful and constraining corporate life can be. Now I would be entirely open to a creative writing degree, but I’m quite invested in the way I do things.

What is the writing process like for you? Do you have any routines or rituals? Superstitions?

No superstitions. No rituals. But lots of routines. I write every day from 8:30-12:30.  I write in a quiet place. Don’t check emails. Don’t take calls. Writing is magic, but one needs to create an environment where the magic can happen.

How has the experience of being published by a small press been different from that of being published by a big one?

I was so grateful to be published by a small press, and I was so grateful to be published by a big one. More people have read First Contact than Dreaming of Gwen Stefani. This is the main difference and I am grateful for it. Some people write as a form of therapy, and writing is highly soothing to me, but I write primarily because I want to communicate with others.

Do you think you are done mining the apocalypse for comedic material? What can we expect to see from you in the future?
 
The Apocalypse is so rich, I can’t make any promises. HarperCollins is going to publish my next novel in 2011. It is already written and an excerpt appears on my website, www.evanmandery.com. In the novel, I am visited by a future version of myself who discourages me from marrying the love of my life, as I am about to do. The first part of the book is my establishing my own authenticity. Once I do this, I take his advice and drive away the woman I love. After that I am visited — with increasing rapidity — by other future selves each further dissatisfied with the new direction of my life. In the way that First Contact is really about objectivity, Q: An Unlived Memoir is really about the notion of progress. Each of my novels is really about a concept — free will, truth, progress — that gives us existential security.

Two really great readings are happening tonight — you’d be nuts to miss out. One, “An Awesome Reading,” is sponsored by featherproof books and Open Books, and will highlight folks with brand-new or about-to-be-released chapbooks. Amy McDaniel, Jamie Kazay, Dave Snyder, and Mary Hamilton are all going to read. It’s at Open Books (213 W. Institute Place), home of the fancy ruby stage, from 7-9pm. All awesome details here.

At the same time and just a little bit north, FC2/Big Other contributors Rob Stephenson, Cris Mazza, David Schneiderman, Kathleen Rooney, Jac Jemc, Tim Jones-Yelvington, and AD Jameson will read at 2542 W Chicago Ave. (The jam’s organized by Green Lantern, but please note that it’s not at their space on Milwaukee.) Spacebook invite here. See you there, squirrelly friends! Let’s all get tacos at 9:30, OK? OK.

Literago.org welcomes our newest contributor, the lovely and expert Alba Machado of Literary Chicago! Woo hoo! — Eds.

If there is one lesson to be learned from Victoria Lautman, it is to never look back. Thursday, June 10th, marks the end of Lautman’s six-year run as the host of Writers on the Record, a monthly interview series that has drawn such prestigious authors as Louise Erdrich, Frank McCourt, Junot Diaz, and Michael Cunningham. But instead of waxing nostalgic and sharing highlights of her interviews, Lautman discusses the future of reading, writing, and publishing with three of Chicago’s important literary trendsetters: Elizabeth Taylor, the Literary Editor of the Chicago Tribune; Jonathan Messinger, the Books and Poetry Editor of Time Out Chicago; and Thomas Flynn, the Events Coordinator and Advertising Manager of the Seminary Co-op Bookstores. WFMT is on hand for taping and the one-hour show will be available soon on Lautman’s website.

Before WFMT begins taping, Lautman is beset with bouquets of flowers and heartfelt words of gratitude. She appears elegant in a short, sleeveless black-and-gold dress and strappy pumps. Even so, it is clear that she is not interested in emphasizing the end of an era. She’s ready to move on. “When I launched this show,” she says, “it was because I was a reader . . . and one of the reasons I’m stopping this show is because it’s ruined my life as a reader in ways I never would have imagined.” It may be hard to imagine how talking to great authors about their books could have a catastrophic effect on one’s reading life—that is, until you realize the amount of research and preparation Lautman undergoes before each interview. “I read every single thing they’ve ever written, which is why Joyce Carol Oates has never been on this show.”

Each of tonight’s interviewees could sympathize with Lautman, being themselves well acquainted with the challenge of balancing reading-for-work with reading-for-fun. A fan of short stories, Messinger admits that his wife sometimes needs to intervene in order to prevent collections of short stories from dominating the book pages of Time Out Chicago. “I am constantly having to rein in my own idiosyncratic reading tastes.”

For Taylor, who receives as many as 200 books a day, the bigger challenge lies in neither over- nor under-representing local authors. “I’m so worried about Chicago being depicted as ‘fly-over country’ . . . at the same time, I don’t want to be parochial and lose my critical edge because I push all things Chicago.” However much she might temper her pride in the city’s literary accomplishments with professionalism, there is no denying that she has helped to cultivate its reading landscape. After all, in addition to her regular responsibilities at the Tribune, she plays a major role in planning and executing the annual Printers Row Lit Fest, which took place last Saturday and Sunday.

It is no surprise, then, that Taylor is enthusiastic about recommending books for the audience, as are Messinger and Flynn. As far as Lautman is concerned, a big part of looking toward the future of reading is putting together an awesome reading list. Here are some of their top picks, in no particular order:

• The Passage by Justin Cronin (a science fiction vampire saga).
• A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan (a novel about a washed-up punk rocker and his klepto assistant).
• Kraken by China Mieville (a novel about a man who is attacked by cultists because they believe he’s a squid god).
• C by Tom McCarthy (an experimental novel dealing with technology and mourning).

Of course, in this day and age, no discussion about the future of reading would be complete without the obligatory mention of the e-book controversy. Messinger is quite optimistic about the new technology, comparing its effect on readership to the iPod’s effect on music consumption. The iPod has made it possible for him to hear a great many bands at a far cheaper cost, including those that do not make it onto large labels. He expects that the same will hold true for books. Lautman and Taylor are similarly receptive to the e-book, noting its convenience for travel.

But Flynn, the bookseller, as you might expect, is less open to the prospect of virtual libraries. In his opinion, “When something new and flashy and pretty comes along, we always think this is it and it will replace everything that has come before. That’s not true. That’s done more damage to bookstores than anything that’s been happening on the internet.” On top of e-books, independent bookstores like the Seminary Co-op must also contend with major online dealers that can offer greater discounts, like Amazon. Although Flynn does not believe new technology will eliminate books or bookstores, he speaks gravely about the online dealers, saying, “They can take a loss for quite a while. We can’t.”

In the end, it seems that Victoria Lautman is much the same person she was when she began the Writers on the Record series. She’s a reader. She understands that a good bookseller has as much to contribute to a discussion about the future of reading as do writers, editors, and publishers. And after the final interview is concluded, she transforms herself into a carnival barker for the Seminary Co-op, urging members of the audience to step up and purchase books Flynn brought with him. It is a good end to great series.

(img by Jane Mount)

… is this weekend, all weekend, and almost everything but the hot dogs are free. There’s a map here, but it’s much more fun to get off the Red Line at Harrison (or Blue, Pink, Brown, Orange, Purple at Library, Green at Roosevelt) and wander. Wonder. Full schedule here.