Drop and Cover

I stopped reading lots of things when I became a graduate student-- particularly when I became an eighteenth-centuristyist and decided that I wasn't allowed to read anything written after 1800, er...ok, 1828. I didn't lose complete track of the present, particularly writers whose work I collected. I ordered (even if I didn't read) copies of Dennis Cooper's All Ears and My Loose Thread online. Cooper, I think, was dropped by Grove (at the very least Grove ceased to publish his work) before either of these was published, and the production values of the new titles, particularly the former, left something to be desired. Consequently, I dropped him. I ceased to follow his work.

Cooper himself is known for dropping people. Or, to be more specific, friends. He invests intensely in someone and then suddenly grows cold, disinterested, unfriendly, unavailable. My friend Vince was close with Dennis during the time I lived in San Francisco, but since my departure, Dennis has withdrawn from Vince. Vince remains melancholy about a lost friendship that he valued and enjoyed. Vince also remains amazingly level-headed and thoughtful: when I met him for dinner during my recent trip to SF, he raved about Dennis's most recent books, urging me to check them out and to take a gander at Cooper's blog (which Brad also recommended a couple of weeks earlier). I'm not sure I would be as generous as Vince, were I in an analogous situation, but I'm thankful for his compassion, heart, and continued intellectual interest in Dennis.

I picked up God, Jr. at Dog Eared Books, and-- while still afloat on the indulgence of my vacation mind set-- I ordered the Void Books original printing of The Sluts. A decadent move, I know, but so worth it. The book arrived at the end of last week, I'm almost finished reading it, and I can't stop fawning over it, worshipping it, gazing endlessly at all the pink and black line drawings by Todd James.

Wrapper:

Spine:

Case:

Illustration:

I'm thrilled that Dennis is back in my life.