Irreducible Form

My interview with Simon Critchley appeared in 3:AM Magazine today:

Simon Critchley

“On the one hand, literature is a conceptual machine that comprehends all that is, digests it and shits it out. That transforms matter into form. On the other hand, there is a kind of writing — poetry usually (Ponge, Stevens, late Hölderlin) — that attempts to let matter be matter witout controlling or comprehending it. I am more sympathetic to the second slope, but the attempt to let matter be matter without form is also an unachievable fantasy. We can say with Stevens, we don’t need ideas about the thing, but the thing itself. But we are still stuck with ideas about the thing itself, with the materiality of matter. Form, even the form of the formless, is irreducible.”

An Anarchic Ship of Fools

David Winters, “An Interview with David Winters” by Matthew Jakubowski, truce 21 October 2014

My first book review was of Barthes’ The Preparation of the Novel. I sent it to Andrew Gallix at 3:AM. He published it, and made me an editor shortly afterwards. I’m grateful to Andrew for that. And to Barthes!

… As for “guiding” the magazine, for me the most attractive aspect of 3:AM is its refusal to “stand for” anything! As Andrew often puts it, the site has “no party line”. It was always supposed to be a broad church — or an anarchic ship of fools, to mix the metaphor. The most amusing attacks on us have come from bloggers who treat book reviewing as if it were some sort of moral crusade; who want to divide readers’ tastes into “right” and “wrong”. We find factionalism quite infantile, and upsetting these dogmatists is as good a reason as any to keep publishing.

We Already See So Much

Susan Sontag, “Walser’s Voice,” Preface, Selected Stories by Robert Walser

…In long as in short prose Walser is a miniaturist, promulgating the claims of the anti-heroic, the limited, the humble, the small — as if in response to his acute feeling for the interminable. Walser’s life illustrates the restlessness of one kind of depressive temperament: he had the depressive’s fascination with stasis, and with the way time distends, is consumed; and spent much of his life obsessively turning time into space: his walks. His work plays with the depressive’s appalled vision of endlessness: it is all voice—musing, conversing, rambling, running on. The important is redeemed as a species of the unimportant, wisdom as a kind of shy, valiant loquacity.

The moral core of Walser’s art is the refusal of power; of domination. I’m ordinary — that is, nobody — declares the characteristic Walser persona. In “Flower Days” (1911), Walser evokes the race of “odd people, who lack character,” who don’t want to do anything. The recurrent “I” of Walser’s prose is the opposite of the egotist’s: it is that of someone “drowning in obedience.” One knows about the repugnance Walser felt for success — the prodigious spread of failure that was his life. In “Kienast” (1917), Walser describes “a man who wanted nothing to do with anything.” This non-doer was, of course, a proud, stupendously productive writer, who secreted work, much of it written in his astonishing micro-script, without pause. What Walser says about inaction, renunciation of effort, effortlessness, is a program, an anti-romantic one, of the artist’s activity. In “A Little Ramble” (1914), he observes: “We don’t need to see anything out of the ordinary. We already see so much.”…

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Shawn Huelle, “Peripateticism in Robert Walser,” 3:AM Magazine 12 August 2014

Smallness plays a large role in Walser’s textual perambulations. In fact, W. G. Sebald refers to Walser as a “clairvoyant of the small.” This smallness can be made even smaller.

Walking, among other things, is also an act of self-effacement: while out on a walk, one begins to lose oneself in one’s surroundings. Walter Benjamin notices this in Walser’s writing: “Everything seems lost; a surge of words gushes forth in which each sentence only has the task of obliterating the previous one” (emphasis added).

…Or, as Walser himself puts it [The Walk, 1917]:

[The walker] must bring with him no sort of sentimentally sensitive self-love or quickness to take offense. Unselfish and unegoistic, he must let his careful eye wander and stroll where it will; only he must be continuously able in the contemplation and observation of things to efface himself. . . . If he does not, then he walks only half attentive, with only half his spirit, and that is worth nothing. . . . He must be able to bow down and sink into the deepest and smallest everyday thing, and it is probable that he can.

Probably a Florentine Exile

Richard Marshall, “Borges’s ‘Funes the Memorious’,” 3:AM Magazine 9 March 2014

A writer is in hell when her reader forgets her. This is the problem of Beatrice. Beatrice existed infinitely for Dante but he hardly if at all for her. Here’s the nub for Borges and his prodigious minimalism: we should stop thinking a ten minute conversation with Roberto Bolano would reveal to us the true meaning of 2666. And never doubt that our greatest love hardly acknowledges us. Andrew Gallix’s strange and Roman miniature is probably a Florentine exile; his ‘Fifty Shades of Grey Matter’ engulfs this type of inutterable despair. Yet still, whatever is imagined is there. If this is likened to a journey then it ends in a catastrophe which is not destiny but its secret instruction.

The Radiance of the Future

This interview with photographer Jamie Stoker appeared in 3:AM Magazine on 23 March 2007:

The Radiance of the Future: An Interview with Jamie Stoker
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3:AM: Your pictures are both out of time and of the moment. As a result, they seem to capture the very essence of youth: the living for the moment, but also the fleetingness of that moment. Is this deliberate? And to what extent is this effect due to your use of old-school materials and methods?

JS: Photography first became important to me because I realised that with a camera I could document my social surroundings, record the memories, the faces, all of that. Eighteen is an age, for me at least, where I feel like I’m finally living my life for real. My earlier teen years were mainly hanging around with nowhere to go or nothing worthwhile to do. So yeah, I guess it is deliberate, I didn’t like the idea of letting the best years of my life slip by unnoticed — so I picked up a camera. Shooting analogue is a long drawn-out process, and I like that. You spend your time engaging with the world and people around you, rather than the tiny LCD on the back of your camera. Having to spend time and work towards an image you can’t even see yet will always beat the instant gratification of digital. Getting prints back or developing a roll in the sink and seeing my images at the end feels like getting presents at Christmas (or something like that.)
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stoker73:AM: This meeting of the old and the new also reflects recent trends in photography: digital cameras and the Internet have led to a paradoxical revival of interest in film and analogue cameras. You choose to shoot film but post scans of your pictures on your blog and on Flickr (where they are viewed by hundreds of people). Do you agree that the two media seem to complement each other?

JS: Definitely. Photography is a social art. My photos reflect the life I lead and the people I know, and I like being able to share that with people. I shoot film because the cameras and the process are fun and satisfying as hell, and the end results look amazing. Combining it with the Internet and its limitless possibilities is that perfect blend of old and new.

3:AM: Your favourite camera at the moment is a Bessa R2a. Could you explain what’s so great about it?

JS: Rangefinder. The viewfinder. Small, quiet, black (looks badass, like a ninja!). Great lenses. Well built, expensive but not to the extent where I’m afraid to use it and fuck it up. I named mine Beowulf. Nice.
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3:AM: The colours in your colour Bessa pictures are beautifully passé as in ‘faded’, which lends them the wistful, nostalgic quality I mentioned previously. Where does that come from? Have you ever tried using a Holga or a Lomo L-CA which can produce similar effects? Where do you stand on the whole Lomo/toy camera phenomenon?

JS: I have film to thank for my colours (and tonality for black and white shots.) It’s really hard for me to pin down, but film just has these colours where they are both desaturated but at the same time incredibly rich. Digital looks fake. Film looks real. Haven’t tried any of those cameras although I was looking into Holgas the other day and was tempted to pick one up. I’m all for anything that can liberate your shooting style. Personally, I love Polaroids and the little cluster of photographers that still shoot with them. The old land cameras that take pack film and Sx-70s are beautiful feats of engineering, and great fun to shoot with too. A little shitty camera that you can have with you 24/7 is in my opinion worth more than a Leica that sits in your dad’s study. The other day I bought a Yashica Samurai for ten quid. It’s a half frame SLR, you get 72 shots on one roll of film and to make things better (or worse) it looks like a weapon from Star Trek. It’s great for when I’m too drunk to worry about an expensive rangefinder.
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3:AM: Which do you prefer: colour or black and white? (Most of your pictures seem to be black and white.)

JS: It’s an eternal struggle within me. I don’t know. Black and white features more because it’s cheap to develop at home. It can be great for removing the distraction of colour and creating this amazing relationship with the viewer. That being said, if you nail a decent colour shot, it can be amazing. I really don’t know, both for the moment, they have their time and place, maybe I will favour one in the future — who knows.

3:AM: How did you come to photography in the first place? Tell us about your career plans…

JS: JS: I went on a trip to Africa and wanted to take some photos to remember it (I always wanted go to there when I was younger.) So I stole my brother’s Canon Av-1 and a bunch of prime lenses even though I didn’t know what SLR stood for or how the hell to use it. 10 rolls of blurred shots later and I was hooked – I needed to know how to take decent photos. Like I said earlier, I realised that with a camera I could document me and my friends and the city around us. That was two years ago.

I used books, the Internet, friends, teachers — anything really — to teach myself all there is to know from the techniques to the execution of photography. I think I did pretty well if I can say so myself. One thing I will say was that digital was a great platform to learn on, and very forgiving with trial and error. But now that I know what I’m doing, it’s film all the way.

My plans? I’m in the process of applying to do some sort of photography course or degree at the London College of Communication. We’ll see what happens and how it goes. When I’m older I would love to be a photojournalist. To travel and meet people, try and make a difference. I know it’s over romanticised and the industry is very tough, but I could see myself happy doing it. Plus documentary photography is essentially what I do now with my friends, it is the kind of photography that I want to spend my life doing. In the summer I’m going to be assisting Nick Danziger in Monaco for a month, so I’m really excited about that. He’s a pretty big deal and a great photojournalist, so I feel very luck for the opportunity. He’s got an exhibition on at the National Portrait Gallery of shots taken behind the scenes with Tony Blair which I would definitely recommend.
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3:AM: In your blog, you mention Winogrand: are you interested in the history of photography? Are you influenced by any of The Greats?

JS: Yes, yes and yes. I study History of Art at school and, aside from far too many essays, it’s great. It’s definitely taught me to appreciate what came before. At the moment we are studying Renaissance art in Florence and the thinker Plutarch talked about “moving forward in the radiance of the past”. That’s an idea that stuck with me.

As far as influences go, I don’t have singular devastating ones, but rather a melting pot of ideas. At the moment I’m reading this huge tome on Robert Capa I bought the other day, and it’s amazing from seeing his contact sheets and method of working to reading about his personal life. A great man indeed. I have a lot of respect and admiration for war photographers, and it’s definitely something which interests me with an eye to the future. Larry Burrows, McCullin and the rest. In a week or so I’m going to a talk by Philip Jones Griffiths on his amazing book Vietnam Inc and I really can’t wait.
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3:AM: Many of the artists (Larry Clark, Gus Van Sant etc.) who document the lifestyles of young people do so from the outside. You are in the privileged position of being able to do so from the inside, which is why your pictures are revealing without being prurient. Are you afraid people will find your pictures less interesting when you grow older and move on to other subjects?

JS: Not at all. I shoot my friends because they are what I have access to, but as I get older and things change, so hopefully shall I. There’s so much going on in this world that it’s more a case of pure excitement for what the future will yield.
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3:AM: Your pictures document your life and that of your friends, so tell us a bit about that. Let’s start with where you live: Hampstead…

JS: Hampstead. It’s nice. That’s about it. It’s not very exciting, but it’s a comfortable place to live. And the heath is lovely in the summer. There are far too many mobile phone shops and estate agents which makes no sense, however there’s an awesome private old camera shop called Photocraft where the old folks who work there all know their shit and are really helpful. With uni and whatnot, I am planning to move out and elsewhere in the next couple of years.

3:AM: Westminster School
JS: It’s the most fantastic location, and the history of the school really pervades through. That being said, they are very focused on academics and Oxbridge and so I’ve become very bored with it all. I’m studying A-levels in History, English, History of art and Art — far too many essays. The art department is like this little bastion of sanity for me.
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3:AM: Many of your pictures depict your nightlife in trendy East London (333, 93 Feet East)…

JS: Well, my other main hobby aside from photography is partying. But I take a camera with me (of varying expense depending on how much I’m planning to party) so I kinda combine the two. The maddest shit happens on night buses and in the early hours of the morning in London, so I like to be prepared. Lots of interesting people and places in that area of London. London itself is another main element of my photos. I’ve travelled a lot, but nowhere compares to London. It really is the most fantastic, diverse city. I think it’s also the most visited city in the world now, and so it should be. I’m proud to live in it.
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3:AM: You are also the drummer in a band called Trafalgar. How does that fit into the grand scheme of things?
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JS: Well, things are really about to take off with Trafalgar. We played an all-expenses-paid gig in Barcelona at this huge club called Razmatazz the other week, and it was pretty much the greatest 24 hours of my life. I shot it all on Polaroid taken on an old Sx-70. Our single’s out around June followed by a 2-week-long UK tour, so we shall see what happens. It also provides me with interesting situations from a photographical point of view. I keep a scrapbook of our shows and flyers and press clippings and photos I’ve taken and whatnot so I can reminisce about it all when I’m a crusty old man.

3:AM: Where does your Tintin fetish come from?

JS: Growing up, I loved reading the books. He went on the most amazing journeys and adventures. I have original French posters on the wall of my room, and every one of the books. Plus he’s really inspirational, because if you think about it, he’s pretty much the greatest journalist ever. Plus in Tintin in Tibet he uses some sort of Leica to take photos of the Yeti. Sweet.
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3:AM: Finally, is your family related to Bram Stoker?

JS: Ahahaha, I get asked this a lot, from random old men working in the Tube to excited English teachers. The truth is I’m not sure. I know my dad looked into it. Our family (well the British side, I’m also half American) is originally up near Manchester, so not that far from Ireland where Bram was from. It’s likely there is some sort of vague link. Dracula is an amazing book and so the idea excites me a lot!
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Another Pint and Molotov Cocktail

My 2007 interview with George Berger appears in Let’s Submerge: Tales From the Punk Rock Underground (released on 26 November 2013). I get a lovely mention in the Introduction: “This is a collection of other writings, particularly columns I wrote for the excellent 3ammagazine.com at the bequest of its equally excellent editor Andrew Gallix. Their slogan ‘whatever it is, we’re against it’ neatly steals a great attitude from Groucho Marx”. I’m also mentioned at the beginning of the interview with Penny Rimbaud: “I interviewed Penny for Abisti, my online magazine in 1999. It was as a result of reading this interview that Andrew Gallix got in touch with me and invited me to write for 3:AM Magazine. Penny Rimbaud remains the most fascinating interviewee you could possible hope to spend time with”. Here’s a picture I took of George Berger at Waterloo Station in April 2006:

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The Emperor’s New Clothes in Reverse

Jack Henry, “3:AM Magazine Interview: Andrew Gallix,” Heroin Love Songs 5 Spring 2009: 87-90

JH: Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.

AG: My pleasure!

JH: My primary interest is in New Media and what some refer to as New Media Literature. In addition there seems to be resurgence in writing and poetry. Perhaps this is due to so many on-line outlets. Also, movements such as the Brutalist and Offbeat Generation owe their existence to the Internet and various on-line outlets, including 3:AM. I think some of these movements and/or on-line journals have sprung from some post-punk anarchy reaction against mainstream publishing. I’ve read as much and agree with it. Some of these questions may seem obvious, but I am sure others are curious, as am I, to your unique perspective.

What is the importance of a movement or school of work? Is it an idea or concept developed from a historical perspective or can it be witnessed in the present, as it emerges?

AG: We never sat down one day and said ‘Let’s launch a new literary movement!’. We sat down one day and realised that we were part of a movement. It was already there, and all it needed was a name to gain visibility. It was the Emperor’s New Clothes in reverse. So, to answer your question, we have been observing the development of the Offbeat phenomenon since 2005 when we became conscious of it.

JH: What can a writer gain, if anything, from the inclusion within a movement?

AG: First of all, I must make it quite clear that the Offbeats are a movement and not a school of writing. Offbeat writers are individuals — they all have different styles and influences, even though they all share certain values and a certain rebellious spirit. Writing is a solitary activity, so it feels good to also have that collective experience.

JH: What are the unifying characteristics of the Brutalists or Offbeats? What is their historical heritage?

AG: The Brutalists are not a movement; they’re a trio of writers (Adelle Stripe, Ben Myers, and Tony O’Neill) who sometimes come together to write under that banner. Instead of forming a band, they write poetry. The Brutalists are very much part of the Offbeat scene. What unites all the Offbeats is a rejection of a publishing industry increasingly dominated by marketing, rather than literary, concerns. The name ‘Offbeat’ is an obvious nod to the Beats, but punk is perhaps the biggest historical reference. At least for some of us.

JH: In a few interviews I have read, the Offbeat Generation does not exist within a single style or genre, I am curious what the literary influences have been to this group? And, more specifically, any influences from areas outside of writing?

AG: That’s quite right, and since there is no house style, influences are pretty diverse. There’s the Bukowski-John Fante Real McCoy school of writing embodied by Tony O’Neill. There’s the Maurice Blanchot-Francis Ponge-William Burroughs axis led by Tom McCarthy. There’s the Barthelmesque comic postmodernism of HP Tinker. There’s the more quirky Brautigan-tinged world of Chris Killen or Tao Lin. And then there’s all the others with their personal influences.
Music is indeed very important to many Offbeats. Tony O’Neill played in bands like Kenickie or the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Ben Myers is also a music journalist and he even used to have his own indie label. Will Ashon has a hip hop label. As far as I’m concerned, Howard Devoto’s early lyrics are right up there with the works of the greatest writers.

JH: As the Beats of the 50s/60s gained popularity, pop culture turned them into a caricature of their origins. Is there a fear that current movements could be mainstreamed and, potentially, lose their power as a dissenting voice?

AG: Definitely. In a way, it’s already happened. There are lots of young writers who think they’re being Offbeat by spouting clichés about sex and drugs.

JH: What is the goal of a movement? Is it collective? Or individualistic?

AG: Total surrender of mainstream publishing!
It’s both individual and collective.

JH: It is my opinion that America’s “disposable mentality” has migrated to literature and our literary tradition. Publishers rely on a bestseller to support their efforts with other books. In my opinion, a majority of these best sellers are total shit. Writers that repeatedly appear on best-sellers’ lists utilize formula and structure that will satisfy the widest possible audience, with lim-ited concern for craft, exploration and daring. Subsequently, the wider audience is “dumbed down.” Additionally, marketing departments focus a majority of their budgets on bestsellers thereby limiting marketing funds for up and coming writers. In short, big publishers continue to promote disposable writing in order to earn the quick buck. Does literature still exist, either via New Media or traditional outlets? What is the future of literature?

AG: I totally agree with your analysis of the state of things. It’s the same in Britain — perhaps even worse because of the presence of a huge middlebrow market. In the States, it’s either total shit or pure genius.
But, yes, literature still exists and will continue to exist. I can’t predict what its future will be, but I think the western notion of The Writer may be on the way out. I think there will be fewer career writers in the future: writers who write simply because that’s what writers do. People will write a novel when they really feel the need to do so, but will also have other creative outlets.

JH: Returning to New Media, how important are New Media platforms (blogs, social networks, YouTube, etc.) to writers? Is there such a thing as New Media Literature?

AG: Well, I think you need to make a distinction between e-literature which uses the Internet as a new medium, and most online creative writing which simply uses the web as a medium. As I wrote here, I get the impression that the future of e-literature is to merge into digital art. That view seems to be highly controversial in e-lit circles. As for webzines, blogs etc. I think their role has been essential. The Offbeat movement is the first literary movement of the digital age. Without the Internet, it probably wouldn’t have existed in the first place.

JH: 3:AM is a widely admired online journal and has been around a while now. I have always been impressed with the quality of writing that comes out of it. With the Internet providing a global platform and on-line outlets (websites, blogzines, etc.) is there a dilution of quality writing? Or, more specifically, is there too much content? Or, perhaps, is it just too easy to get published online?

AG: Thanks for the kind words.
Interesting questions. A band that releases an album on its own label has credibility. Writers who do that are accused of vanity publishing. It’s true that there are thousands of rubbish writers out there who publish themselves on the Internet, but there are also stacks of rubbish writers whose works are published by big concerns — just visit any bookshop to see what I’m talking about. Bad writers will give up eventually; the good ones will float to the surface.

JH: How important is marketing to a New Media outlet or, as a whole, “underground” writers and publishers? With my journal I market wholly to exposure the writers I admire and feel have talent. The only real cost is time. With the press, I have a different attitude. I want to promote the writer, but I want to have some profit, no matter how minimal, in order to publish more writers. In the age of New Media Literature and the expectation of everything on the Internet should be free or relatively inexpensive, how does a press survive?

AG: I’ve been editing 3:AM Magazine since 2000; we get thousands of unique visitors a day, and yet I’ve never made any money out of it. There’s very little money in serious fiction.

JH: Is it more important to publish than publish and profit?

AG: Definitely.

JH: Okay, enough of my bullshit, let’s focus on 3:AM. Would 3:AM exist without the Internet?

AG: An emphatic no. I’d been toying with the idea of a post-punk literary journal for years, but the logistics just made it virtually impossible.

JH: In researching this project I have read through a number of issues from 3:AM. In terms of quality and content, it is definitely one of the better online magazines available. You have had a long tenure on the Internet, longer than most. What do you attribute that to?

AG: To the fact that we’re genuinely interested in writing, and that we don’t expect to make any money out of it.

JH: What are the future goals of 3:AM?

AG: To continue to spread the word.

Interview conducted on 21 May 2009.

La faim du livre

Along with Gérard Berréby, Augustin Trapenard, and Hervé Laurent, I was interviewed by Linn Levy for a piece entitled “La faim du livre” which appeared in the December 2013 issue of Swiss magazine Edelweiss. The article features on pp. 44-47; my interview is on p. 46.

La faim du livre

Edelweiss part en quête de la littérature contemporaine, des mots qui dérangent et se demande si être écrivain veut encore dire quelque chose par les temps qui courent. Quatre intellectuels se penchent sur ces questions et nous éclairent.

«Nous sommes les visages de notre temps», clamaient les futuristes russes, le poète Maïakosvki en tête, il y a exactement un siècle, pétris de la conviction que l’art qu’ils inventaient allait renverser l’ordre des choses, qu’en récrivant le monde ils façonneraient le futur. Et aujourd’hui? A qui appartiennent les visages de l’époque contemporaine? Peut-on encore écrire? Et quels sont, parmi le demi-millier d’ouvrages publiés cette rentrée en Suisse et en France, ceux qui tordent la littérature, l’éprouvent, l’inventent? Oui, dans quels livres trouve-t-on les questions que nous ne nous sommes pas encore posées? Difficile pour le lecteur de se retrouver dans le magma de fictions qui ornent les étals des librairies comme les marchandises envahissent les hypermarchés. Le divertissement, devenu la norme au risque d’endormir insidieusement les esprits, laisse peu de place au doute, la tension semble diluée, presque rien ne dérange, pas grand-chose ne dépasse. Alors, pour celui qui a faim d’autre chose que de spectacle et qui ne déteste pas être dérangé – «Etre scandalisé, un plaisir», assurait Pasolini –, il s’agit de résister en cherchant les lignes qui dévient, la littérature, la vraie, ce souffle qui a «la faculté d’empêcher la folie du monde de s’emparer totalement de nous», comme l’écrit Alberto Manguel. Quatre experts nous éclairent sur les mots d’aujourd’hui, l’influence du web, la mort imminente du droit d’auteur, celle de la figure de l’écrivain, sur le remix aussi, et l’irrévérence anglo-saxonne ou helvétique… L’éditeur Gérard Berréby, l’écrivain et professeur Andrew Gallix, le journaliste Augustin Trapenard et le critique d’art Hervé Laurent ont accepté de surcroît de dévoiler leurs titres préférés de la rentrée.

Andrew Gallix
Ecrivain, éditeur, professeur à la Sorbonne

L’écriture a cinquante ans de retard sur la peinture – triste constat de l’artiste Brion Gysin dans les années 60… «Et, pour le philosophe et romancier anglais Lars Iyer, la situation n’a fait qu’empirer. Le roman, censé échapper au monde des genres, est lui-même devenu un genre. Pour lui, la littérature est morte (comme la musique classique avant elle) et les livres que l’on peut encore écrire doivent exprimer la distance qui nous sépare de la grande littérature du passé. Cette «postlittérature» s’inscrit d’ailleurs dans un contexte politique et culturel plus général: pour Mark Fisher ou Simon Reynolds, par exemple, la modernité est derrière nous. Cette nouvelle crise du roman, symbolisée par Reality Hunger, le manifeste de David Shields, se traduit souvent par un rejet de la fiction.» Les idées se bousculent dans l’esprit brillant d’Andrew Gallix. L’écrivain britannique, professeur à la Sorbonne, collaborateur du quotidien The Guardian, punk depuis l’âge de 12 ans, a lancé en 2000 le premier blog littéraire en anglais, «3:AM Magazine»1, dont le mot d’ordre est le très groucho-marxesque: «De quoi qu’il s’agisse, nous sommes contre». Un webzine si avant-gardiste qu’il a donné naissance à un véritable mouvement littéraire, The Offbeat Generation, regroupant des plumes anglophones non conformistes (Tony O’Neill, Ben Myers, Tom McCarthy notamment), rejetant la culture dominante et le monde traditionnel de l’édition. «La littérature est quelque chose qui résiste, analyse-t-il. Même s’il n’existe plus vraiment d’avant-garde – le web l’a diluée en quelque sorte –, je remarque que l’écriture conceptuelle, expérimentale prend de plus en plus d’importance. Il y a toute une génération d’auteurs qui reste très influencée par la théorie poststructuraliste de Derrida, je pense notamment à Rachel Kushner. Il y a un autre courant d’écrivains, américains pour la plupart, qui s’inscrit dans la directe lignée de l’éditeur Gordon Lish – celui qui a en quelque sorte fait Raymond Carver. Pour eux, tout se passe au niveau de la phrase. Et, pour finir, je trouve passionnante et à suivre la scène littéraire qui s’est formée autour de la revue new-yorkaise n+1 (nplusonemag.com).»
1 http://www.andrewgallix.com / http://www.3ammagazine.com

Il lit:
Au départ d’Atocha, Ben Lerner (à paraître)
C, Tom McCarthy, L’Olivier
Nue, Jean-Philippe Toussaint, Editions de Minuit

The Offbeats

Ben Ashwell, “An Interview with Tony O’Neill,” Bookslut 138 (November 2013)

… O’Neill built a strong reputation for his needles-and-all accounts of addiction by publishing his stories online, on sites like 3:AM Magazine. This led him to be grouped with a range of other writers — such as Ben Myers, Lee Rourke, Adelle Stripe, and Andrew Gallix — who were collectively branded “The Offbeat Generation” by The Guardian.

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[Me and Tony O’Neill, Paris, June 2009]

Never Taken As Read

Richard Marshall, “No Thing,” 3:AM Magazine 29 March 2013

. . . Dworkin hopes that through erasure writing can be recovered by attending to its essential detritus, its material media and its event. He suggests this retrieval comes by a palimpsest enacting a “double play of concealment and revelation”, a way of obstructing to make something visible. Andrew Gallix writes that “Words become visible; the bloody things keep getting in the way. From this perspective, the literary is what can never be taken as read”. . . .

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