Day tripper

Yesterday I went on a train. This is obviously the kind of behaviour that warrants me the Twitter bio label "part-time adventuress". A train! Actually, I went on two trains: one there, one back. Imagine!

So I went on a train and the train went to Liverpool and I went on a train to Liverpool to look at some art. First off, I hotfooted it to the lovely becolumned Walker Gallery to see the show Art In Revolution: Liverpool 1911. It harks back to an exhibition of international Post-Impressionist and local avant-garde artists held in the Bluecoat 100 years ago. It didn't blow me away, I'll be honest, but it is very varied and there are some quite nice pieces (nice bit of Gaugin; some really nice woodcuts; a nice spot of Pointillist stuff, possibly even Seurat, I can't remember).


From here, I sauntered over to the Tate in the Albert Dockhhhhh. A giant table and chairs drew me Alice in Wonderland-style into Robert Therrien: Smoke Signals, but it was the towering pile of plates (above) that was really great - the gallery invigilator told us to be careful when walking around it, as the effect of the perspective throws you off balance. He wasn't wrong: it was an almost interactive experience.


Anyway, the reason why I really came to the Tate was to see Rene Magritte: The Pleasure Principle. It's on until 16 October, but I've been wanting to go for, like, ever. There's a ton of stuff: paintings, drawings, collages, ads (above), photos...
There's the bowler hat stuff, the train coming out of the fireplace, the Ceci n'est Pas Une Pipe series, giant apples, flapper ladies, lots of tits. I liked Les Charmes du Pays, a rifle next to an empty picture frame titled Paysage (above). Kinda funny. Also liked The Menaced Assassin for its strong narrative, Popular Panorama for it's cut-away multi-layered view, and The Lovers II (Les Amants) (below). Apparently this is inspired by an image from the cover of a private dick pulp fiction comic Nick Carter, Detective, where the dying heroine has her head hidden by a sheet, which has led to me spending a good part of the past hour looking at magazine covers on Google images. The Spicy Detective and Saucy Detective series look great.

Badass language

Yesterday our good chum Daniel Carpenter, one third of Bad Language Manchester, launched a new writing and photography project: What Vanishes Will Vanish. All the info is on the website, but in a nutshell: submit a picture from your childhood along with a short story (up to 2,000 words), poetry (up to 40 lines) or non-fiction (2,000 words) inspired by it; a creative interpretation of the image, if you will. Submit words and pictures to dan@badlanguagemcr.co.uk. Follow @WhatVanishes on Twitter for updates.

Back to Bad Language, and I have been promising to do a little write-up of the shenanigans in the hottest room in Manchester last Wednesday, so here goes. I can't remember everyone who read or everything that was read, so this is just selected highlights and sorry if I don't mention you. The three hosts Nici West, Dan Carpenter and Joe Daly each brought us their usual high standard of tales, featuring subjects as disparate as team-building and star-spotting Paul Heaton on the bus. The guest star for the evening was the lovely Tom Fletcher, who read a few extracts from his second novel, The Thing On The Shore, which is nothing if not creepy.

Another published writer who appeared was Angela Smith, who I recognised from The Manchester Lit List write-up about the City Library launch of her debut poetry collection with Puppywolf, This Is The Me I Would Be If I Dared. Quite liked her pieces: modern and a bit in your face. Of the poets, Zach Roddis also deserves a mention. I like his stuff; it's young and fresh and he uses copious amounts of swears, which always keeps me happy. You can see some examples of his work on the Write Out Loud site.

On the prose tip, one story which stuck in my head was Nija Dalal's Young City, set in Atlanta, where she was brought up. Nija's work is always very personal and open, but at the same time intriguing and sometimes a bit David Lynchesque with her observations of America. In this particular story, I really liked the idea of her father dragging visitors to see the Gandhi statue and eating chutney sandwiches. I also loved some of the language and imagery, for starters: "Tumbledown shotgun shacks line potholed streets, close and huddled; a stern look could make these houses crumble" and "all roads intersecting Ponce De Leon Avenue change their names there, revealing an economic and racial fissure along a fault the whole world is guilty of".

Much to my dismay, I missed Fat Roland's (gimmick-free!!) performance of Michael Is A Beautiful Horse, A Dangerous Horse (yes, I was at the bar - needed some nosebag), but you can read the craziness that is that creation on FR's creative writing blog, Italic Eye, here. I don't want to give anything away, but can I just say one word? Carroty. Hahaha.

Tom Mason read his latest addition to his fantastic short story site 330 Words. Inspired by the current advert for match.com (which I've since seen), it's called Ukelele, and you can read it here. Tom even sang, though he's been embarrassed about it ever since. Tom's delivery is great; he always pauses for just the right length of time at just the right moments. Case in hand: "She hid her head under the pillow in embarrassment as he tried to think of a word that rhymed with foreskin.

"Nothing rhymed with foreskin."

I also read a piece from 330 Words, Bird Strike, which we won't go into again. This I bookended with two tiny tales of titillation, each, er, 69 words long. You can read them on my new home for saucy stories, Queen Of Tarts. (Disclaimer: adult content contained therein.) (Warning: this is a soft launch.)

More M&B action...

OMG, just look at this.


I have no idea who Oli + Alex are. I was shown this link through the magic of Twitter by @nerissact, and I just had to share, my darlings. You'd never forgive me if I didn't. I don't have the foggiest where Oli + Alex live, but as it's highly likely they're on this side of the Pond (given the media cuttings) and as they are creative partners at an ad agency, I'm guessing they're shithot on copyright stuff so I'm crediting them and hoping they don't mind me lifting their image: thanks for having such ace imaginations, Alex Holder and Oli Beale. Will you be my friends? (Original Dark Obsession book illustration by Len Goldberg, btw.)

A moment of fiction #8

It's high time for another instalment of A Moment Of Fiction, wouldn't you say? So here's the agenda for this round-up of all things writery: first up, submissions; second, readings; third, publications; fourth, AOB.

Unsung, "Manchester's best free literary magazine" which had its very own festival earlier this year, is accepting submissions for a December edition promising to be "its mightiest". I'm not privy to the deadline as I hadn't heard back off Mr Matthew Byrne at the time of going to print, but I'm guessing it's pretty soon. Send your poems / prose / articles / illustrations to: unsung.manchester@gmail.com. Matthew says, "Launch night is TBC but I assure you there will be beer, a mic, a roof and a toilet", so keep your eye on Facebook for details as they become available.

Bewilderbliss is under new management. Having completed (and hopefully passed) their creative writing MAs, Matt and Jon are off to pastures new, and poet Max Wallis (of Talk To Me About Love and Something Every Day) is now in the hotseat. Issue 5 has been provided with a theme by lovely poet Jo Bell, one of the brains behind the Bugged project. Not surprisingly, she has picked "overheard". You can read more here and here, but basically you have until 15 January to send up to four poems, up to 5,000 words prose or a piece of black and white artwork relating to the theme for the cover and interior design.

Also on a poetic tip, poetry quarterly Magma welcomes submissions, as I found out at their recent "roadshow" as part of the Manchester Literature Festival (see my review on the official MLF Blog for more). The deadline for the next issue - the 50th! - is 28 February and edition editor Clare Pollard has chosen "journeys" as the theme, but off-theme poems will also be considered. Full details here.

A gentle reminder too that Ask Ben & Clare are also looking for contributions (nothing too strenuous; just a questionable conundrum for the great minds to solve), along with Roy Keane's Lucky Scarf.


Next week, meanwhile, there are a couple of events where you can be inspired by the work of others or indeed dabble in a reading and try your stuff out on a live (albeit dead drunk) audience. The Bad Language gang (aka Dan, Nici and Joe: blog; website) are having a launch night for their second anthology, Scattered Reds, next Wednesday (24 November). At newly done-up and beautifully betiled The Castle, it's free, kicks off at 7.30pm, with the first performer up at about 8pm - and there's still chance to read! If you wish to partake in the open mic slot, get an email off to events@badlanguagemcr.co.uk. You'll be in good company; I hear some of my Bad Language literature quiz teammates (see pic above, left to right: Mr Hartley, Ms Power, Mrs Conlon, Mr Judge, Mr Roland) will be stepping up to the oche.

Another open mic event next week is on Saturday (27 November), 6-9pm in the 2nd View Restaurant in Waterstone's Deansgate. I am reliably informed by Jon from MLF that this new monthly event is actually back due to popular demand! The Unannounced Poetry Acoustic is "an evening of songs and poems and stories to perform or just to listen. The first drink of the evening is on us and the entertainment is on you!" Did someone say free drinks? See you there.

Experimental poets If P Then Q are busy plugging The Other Room 21, which has a bit of a do on Wednesday 1 December with readings and that, free from 7pm.

Quick update on zines hitting the shelves... Out now is Pantheon issue 2 (featuring a "Beckett-ish piece" by Lil Dave Hartley and now available in Blackwells on Oxford Road, near t'uni, or via the website); Flux Autumn 2010 edition, which features a short story by Chris Killen called Sorry (it's good, but it has suffered a cut'n'paste error in the first par; I've reedited for your delight and delectation below*); Dan Russell's Things Happen Part Deux, which you can look at on Issuu with hard copies about the place soon; the latest B&N Magazine, edited by award-winning mightaswell blogger Sam Bail, is (I am assuming) available in the next month or so, while number 11 of The Shrieking Violet, the "media special", is out now at Good Grief! - which has just this week relocated to the Soup Kitchen in the NQ. My good friend Andrew tells me they sell alcohol, not just soup, so this, and its beautiful art nouveau adornments, gives me a number of reasons to get my arse in gear and visit some time soon.

If you want to gaze back wistfully over previous incarnations of A Moment of Fiction, I've created a magic little widget on the left hand side of this here blog. Look! A Moment Of Fiction archive! Consider it an early Christmas present. Don't say I don't treat you well.

(*Craig has a dream. In the dream he is dead. He has just died. He is in a room, with things in it. The things in the room are: a desk, a bed, a chair, a coffee table, a sofa, a wardrobe, a cup (with some tea in it, gone cold), a computer, a copied CD of Planet Waves by Bob Dylan, a pair of shorts, a sunlounger, a bottle of Daiquiri, a pair of mirrored sunglasses, a coat, a hat, a pair of tweezers, a sheet of writing paper, the lid of a biro, an empty cassette box, a packet of Walkers crisps (prawn cocktail flavour), a poster of Ben Affleck, an empty ice cream tub, a toy car, a toy boat, a miniature ‘gift book’ style copy of War and Peace (6 pt. font), a 50p coin, a cigarette lighter, a cornflake, a wisp of hair, a blank greetings card (‘Best Wishes!’), a pornographic magazine from the seventies, no windows, no door, and the smell of cats... Read the rest here.)

Location, location, location

It's been four months since 1,000 volunteers willingly (and without the influence of alcohol) stripped off in Salford for photographer Spencer Tunick. The Lowry commissioned the living installation to celebrate 10 years of wind-swept life on the Quays, and the weather on the weekend of the shoot was characteristically breezy as ever. I knew of the project - in fact, I know someone who got their kit off for it - but it wasn't until I heard curator Katie Farrell (at the last Blogmeet) describe the pressure of priming people and places that my interest in the show was properly piqued.


The exhibition runs until Sunday 26 September in (thankfully) the larger gallery space, and I was pleasantly surprised by how many pieces it includes. The website tells me only eight locations were used, but it feels like much more thanks to the variety of poses and props. Double-decker buses are a humorous platform for one diptych; the snaking queue to a hand carwash another. Some of the compositions echo the paintings of the art space's namesake LS Lowry with, for example, Castlefield's rusting railway viaducts a backdrop to the bodies going about their business. Colour is an important motif, with pretty pink blossoms reflecting naked skin and the participants planted like blooms in the laid-out rose gardens of an old-fashioned ornamental park. Elsewhere, in the airport set, a sensation of movement is achieved through the gradual change in stature of the "statues".

One criticism would be the stilted effect the unnatural posturing undoubtedly has, but Everyday People still has plenty of merits, not least trying to spot where the photos were taken and how it was possible to take them without some naughty passerby managing to get in on the act.

Too cool for school

It's Friday, I'm tired, I meant to blog something really witty and wondrous to ease you into the weekend, but hey. What I'm going to do for you instead is show you a picture of a fantastic spelling mistake which is a fixture out there in the public arena. Thankfully it's on the other side of the pond, otherwise I'd be worrying about the state of our education system because a) some of my friends have kids and b) some of my friends are teachers and c) some of my friends have kids and are teachers (imagine that as a Venn diagram).

Anyway, I thought it might raise a smile on a dreary August afternoon. If you have the energy.


Obligatory pic cred: AP Photo/News & Record/Joseph Rodriguez. First seen here.

Novella idea

Anyone who follows me on Twitter might have noticed I was in Northumberland over the weekend, having a spot of well-earned time off from my present contract and busting some moves at a wedding in the French-style surrounds of Alnwick Garden. I can now state with absolute certainty that the combination of a cheese sarny and a stride along a wind-swept beach really is the cure for a beer-wine-spirit-induced hangover, even if I can't be sure what said spirit actually was (although its magical properties were well documented as one of our friends flew around the floor to MC Hammer).

Plus, as if more excitement were needed - apart from the wedding, the witnessing of our new-last-year tent withstanding some pretty hardcore gales (although not without damage, it has to be said) and a two-way trip through Rothbury (yes, that Rothbury) - I was treated to a mosey around "one of Britain's largest secondhand bookshops", recommended to me by a certain ex-patriated American in Ramsbottom.


Located in an old railway terminus, Barter Books has everything: a station cafe, lots of battered plush velvet seats scattered about, a "muriel", as Mum says, of famous authors (from Alan Bennett to Virginia Woolf), a complete selection of Keep Calm And Carry On memorabilia (the original poster was, legend has it, discovered in a box of books the storekeepers acquired at auction), a miniature train chugging about above the bookshelves and, oh yes, books. Tons of the monsters.

I picked up Nicola Barker's Small Holdings. I'd read on Who The Fudge Is Benjamin Judge? that her previous tome, Reversed Forecast, was "splendid", and this novella (it's only 130 pages or so long) is a lovely Faber & Faber edition with a waxy black cover and a photo of half a giant red onion. It's also about gardening, which added to the attraction. I even came home and planted some more salad seeds. Anyway these initial warm feelings were borne out and I managed to read the whole book in my makeshift home parallel to Hadrian's Wall, which is a very good sign indeed. I'm still not quite sure what happens at the end, but no matter, it'll be one of those things I think about and gradually digest. What really struck me was the characterisation - really amazing and detailed - plus some almost poetic playing about with words. The penultimate paragraph is a case in hand, but I don't want to go spoiling it for you. Just read it and see.

I was pleased, therefore, to see that Barker has made it through to Round Three of Benjamin's World Cup Literary Distraction (as mentioned back in June), and is the next fixture. However, I can't cheer her on as she's up against lovely local Elizabeth Baines and, as I was chatting to the newly becoiffed Ms Baines only last night, I'd feel guilty. (BTW, Elizabeth is doing a reading tonight, from 7pm, as part of the Didsbury Oxfam Bookfest programme - more on last night's event very soon.) I know it's not technically possible in a World Cup context, but I can only hope for a draw.

A moment of fiction #4 - zines special!

Right, my latest literary round-up has been gently gathering momentum behind the scenes, but I’m now ready to pull back the curtain and reveal the pulleys and levers behind the magic in a special zines round-up.

Nice timing is tomorrow’s Midsummer House Party, the launch event for the new adult learning and engagement programme at the Whitworth Art Gallery. The shindig runs from 7.30-10.30pm in the South Gallery (the one with floor-to-ceiling windows and ivy wallpaper by Thomas Demand), and there will be crafty goings-on with Manchester Craft Mafia, poetry readings from friends of For Folk's Sake and DJ sets from Pull Yourself Together, usually seen in the surrounds of Common on Edge Street. As well as spinning the old wheels of steel, Dan and Hannah of PYT manage to write and edit a fanzine, called Pull Yourself Together like the night, which is published every two months and available in independent record shops around the UK. Email hello@pullyourselftogetherzine.co.uk, check out the website here, peruse the online back issues or hotfoot it to the Salford Zine Library to pore over the hard copies.

Talking of SZL, Matthew and Craig have been busy compiling the now six-month-old collection into a downloadable PDF file available for browsing purposes if you can’t always make it to their Islington Mill premises. The librarians aim to offer monthly updates, so keep popping back to their online space to ch-ch-check it out. And don’t forget to keep donating your zines and self-published books as they become available.

Anyway, without further ado, here's a quick round-up of other zines on the scene. If you know of others, please keep me posted via email or the comments function.

Things Happen is a new kid on the block, which you can get hold of in The Hive, Contact Theatre and the Cornerhouse (though not in the shop as it's free). Dan, the man in charge, says he’s hoping to distribute through other places too soon; in the meantime he’ll let you email him (dandidthis@live.com) to ask it he'll pop a copy in the post for you. Dan says: “Contributions are actively encouraged, but we are only likely to include stuff that is pushing in the same direction as us... I'm sure only people enthused by what we write will be the ones likely to want to contribute anyway.” For signposting, check out the first issue of Things Happen here.

Issues of The Hare can be picked up in Centro and Night & Day in the Northern Quarter, plus Tiger Lounge on Cooper Street. As the good people behind the self-published project live at the bottom of the Snake Pass, copies can also be had in three pubs in Glossop - The Oakwood, The Beehive and The Star. Brown bread topics range from sport to history, with fashion and gossip the white bread subjects and quite a spread of satirical political pokes forming the sandwich filling. Rob and Max take submissions and the guidelines are loose (articles of 600-1,000 words in length, original artwork and the like) – just email theharenewspaper@hotmail.co.uk with your ideas. The Hare also has a Facebook group, called The Hare Newspaper. So modern, you guys.

Bilingual (German/English) b&n magazine was already on its fifth issue when I snatched a copy in the aforementioned Common. You can get in touch with editor in chief Samantha Bail (email bunmagazine@gmail.com) with words and pictures or follow @bunmagazine on that there Twitter.

Other Magazine is an exciting new online sashay into essay-writing, fiction, photography and general silliness. Follow @othermag on Twitter or visit the website for more on contributions and wotnot.

Now, I'm not saying the others aren't, but Pantheon is proper. It has proper writers contributing and everything, including Manchester’s own Nicholas Royle and Tom Fletcher. The seasonal magazine of “assorted observations and tales” describes itself as “a house for all disciplines – art, creative writing, illustration, poetry, cookery, photography, cartoons and more. There are no predetermined themes or rules”. We like the sound of that. You can follow @pantheonzine on Twitter or email pantheonmagazine@googlemail.com for information on how to go about sending in work.

Other zines that have come to our attention but haven’t yet been properly explored are the marvellously named New Wave Vomit, strange fiction (prose and poetry) collaborative quarterly Dark Lane and the mysterious arty pamphlet The Mill Press, the first issue of which I picked up in the Cornerhouse yesterday.

A moment of fiction #2

Just over a month ago, I collated various information that had been gathering in my dusty brain and treated you to a round-up of all the writing groups, creative zines and general literary wotnot going on in the Rainy City. Since then, I've found out about even more and also have a few wee updates.

Firstly, tonight sees writing group Bad Language gather for their monthly meeting at Nexus from 6pm. Dan and the gang were mentioned in the aforementioned April post, but apart from drawing your attention to their shiny new website, I also need to amend a slight error in the information about submissions: as well as accepting poetry of 40 lines max, BL take short stories, but they should be 2,000 words max, not 200. That would just be silly.

However, not silly at all is a short story of 330 words. See that makes sense. Just ask the lovely Tom Mason, who is behind new venture 330 Words (previous collaborative exploits set up by Tom have included November In Manchester). Everything you need to know about how to contribute is explained here, but, in a nutshell, you take a snap of something that grabs your fancy, use it to inspire a 330-word work of flash fiction then send both words and picture to 330words@gmail.com. Not surprisingly, Words & Fixtures was instantly attracted by the concept of words and pictures, and rustled up a contribution. ("Humour" and "romance" wouldn't have been my choice for tags for the piece, but this has intrigued me, so I'd be pleased to hear other people's thoughts.)

Back to AMOF#1 a minute, and you may remember we were wondering why the Unsung peeps had been so quiet and, er, unsung. Turns out they've been really busy squirrelling away at making a festival! The big day is Saturday 29 May and is hosted by the Contact Theatre. Just like the free bi-monthly magazine it takes its name from, the Unsung Festival celebrates the best local artistic talent in unprejudiced poetry, prose and non-fiction, and includes spoken word, exhibitions and live music. Tickets are £12 (£10 concs).

Also at the Contact Theatre, but this weekend (22 May) not next, is a free workshop for theatremakers called Pen-ultimate, from 2pm to 4pm. Meanwhile, every Monday (except bank hols), the Contact holds free Scriptworks workshops from 5.45pm-8pm with actors helping potential playwrights see how their work would translate to the stage. Email scriptworks@heaven.co.uk for more.

Not to be outdone, the Royal Exchange Theatre holds Writers Exchange, a free monthly group for local scriptwriters to discuss their work, hear from guest speakers and provide each other with support, encouragement, advice and maybe sherry (I don't know - I just made that bit up). All writers are welcome, experienced or otherwise, and you won't be turned away if you haven't quite got around to writing that play yet. If you’d like to join Writers Exchange, email jo.combes@royalexchange.co.uk to find out the date and time of the next get-together.

Now, if you're more of a prose writer, but you're feeling a bit left out as you're coming in somewhat from the leftfield, maybe the Speculative Fiction Writing Group is for you. After a successful inaugural discussion, a regular event has been fixed in the Madlab diary, and the next meeting is chalked up for 2 June between 7pm and 9pm. Between them, the group will be working along the lines of science fiction, weird fiction, slipstream, horror and fantasy.

Finally, If P Then Q are looking for experimental poetry submissions for upcoming books and projects. They are also prolific at arranging readings, mainly at the Old Abbey Inn (which, upon further investigation, appears not to be the Kro in the Computer Centre building as originally thought but this one), but also occasionally elsewhere. The next elsewhere date is Wednesday 23 June from 6.30pm at Odder on Oxford Road, and it's free to get in.

Just so you know, A Moment Of Fiction may well become a regular feature and will be back soon with an edition on zines and another with details of a few writing groups I've heard about outside Manchester. If you have anything you'd like mentioned, just drop me a line at sarahclareconlon@gmail.com

A moment of friction

(See what I just did there? The addition of one small letter from the last post I wrote. Cunning.)

That last post of which I speak was all about literary zines and groups who accept contributions. This one is about a "collaborative storytelling venture" of the graphic variety, Fractal Friction. I'll keep it brief, so you can go off and check it out for yourselves. FF currently has a merry band of six artists on board and each week publishes a page to a "comic book" artworked by one of the six. This week will see page 17 uploaded, so you can safely assume that the project has been running for 17 weeks. Anyway, submissions are invited - "we want to open it up to others, and there will be guest slots available", says the blog - just bung them an email to fractal.friction@googlemail.com if you're up for the challenge.


The page here (quite Howl's Moving Castle, I don't mind saying) is by Conor Boyle, through whom I found out about this Staedtler pen foray. Conor once had the loathsome task of being my next-door neighbour, adept at being polite at my pathetic attempts to see straight enough to manoeuvre a PlayStation handset. Poor Conor was also the mild-mannered janitor to a stinking fat cat and the lucky recipient of my prized pianoforte, which took a whole half a day and four grown people to push across the hall from one flat to the other. Mr B has quite a penchant for les bandes desinees, so if you check out his blogging profile at Pencilmonkeymagic, you'll find a ripe collection of links to other illustrators of both similar and also rather different works.

Cover stars

Well, it's all about books on the blog at the moment, isn't it? I suppose it's timely: the run-up to Christmas is a traditional high point in the bookselling calendar. It's when all those godawful celebrity autobiographies and TV tie-in cookbooks find their way into the homes of an unsuspecting public. Sigh.

Still, it's not all bad in the book world, and to prove it, check out The Book Cover Archive Blog where the authors present a round-up of the decade's best book covers: some new for old (eg Camus, Steinbeck); some new for new.

This lovely picture-led blog runs alongside The Book Cover Archive, which "presents an archive of book cover designs and designers for the purpose of appreciation and categorization [sic]", and was brought to my attention (again!) by my library pal.

I've chosen to show this cover, by Stefanie Posavec, of Burroughs and Kerouac's Hippos (written in 1945, pre Beats, but only published a year ago by Penguin) because it was mentioned in The American Scene lecture I went to and blogged about last week , and I thought it was a nice little link.

The long and winding Road

Just over 30 of us push open the discrete double swing doors and dot ourselves around the lecture theatre - complete with raked seating and sound booth - that is hidden in the north wing of Whitworth Art Gallery. We are a diverse bunch, covering all ages from freshers to pensioners, gathered together for the penultimate talk in The American Scene series. The events have been designed to complement the exhibition of the same name, which is on tour from the British Museum until Sunday: for the Words & Fixtures review, click here.

David Morris, Head of Collections for the Whitworth, introduces RJ Ellis, Professor of American & Canadian Studies at the University of Birmingham, and explains the connection between tonight’s discussion, Six Myths Of On The Road, And Where These Might Lead Us, and the prints hanging in the gallery next door. He describes the post-war part of the show as “perhaps the most striking” and paints a picture for us of the cultural context of the late 1940s and early 1950s. Artists like Louise Bourgeois and Jackson Pollock and other Abstract Expressionists were in full flow; the jazz movement was in full swing: not surprisingly writers were also going full steam ahead. Improvisation was the name of the game, and experimentation (drugs, sexuality, joblessness, travel) provided inspiration to the poets and authors looking for new ways to express the confusion (social, economic, political, emotional...) of post-war America.

And so the Beats were born, so-called because of the similarities of their free form writing to the free form artworks and music concurrently being produced. The Beat Generation was quite a crowd, but the most famous and fecund were William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassady and, of course, crowned King Of The Beats Jack Kerouac. The moniker Beatniks was later applied by ‘the establishment’ in an attempt to undermine the group by associating them with Communism (the Sputnik programme was launched by the Soviet Union in 1957; the year Kerouac’s seminal novel On The Road was published), just one example of how the group’s image was purposefully and systematically tarnished.


Professor Ellis (hereafter known as Dick) flicks up a photograph of Jack Kerouac, showing him wearing a crumpled checked shirt with tousled hair and a slight five o’clock shadow (the stencil by ~iamfox shown here is a reproduction of the portrait). The shot was taken (and cropped, losing Kerouac’s crucifix in the process) for Mademoiselle magazine and managed to successfully give the impression of a rebellious tearaway, whereas in reality he was unusually scruffy having just come down from his firewatch stint on Desolation Peak (as documented in Lonesome Traveller, The Dharma Bums and Desolation Angels). The slighting of his character in such ways helped effect Kerouac’s decline, and just over a decade later he died at the age of 47 from cirrhosis caused by alcoholism.

This inaccurate picture is the first of six myths Dick presents, others being: that On The Road is the result of a drug-fuelled writing frenzy (actually, the fact that the book was completed in 20 days was down to Kerouac’s 100wpm typing prowess, and the novel is obviously well thought through and structured with obvious nods to literary influences such as Proust, Dostoevsky and Joyce); that the work was typed onto a continuous roll of tracing paper so the author didn’t have to stop and feed sheets into his Underwood (the “scroll”, as the original manuscript is called, is actually a number of rolls stuck together with Sellotape); that Kerouac refused to make revisions (there are deletions, additions and corrections throughout the original scroll) or accept editors’ changes (there is obvious collaboration between the author and his Viking Press editor Malcolm Cowley and copy-editor Helen Weaver)... I won’t reveal them all here; that might just amount to plagiarism and you might also like to catch Dick in action yourself some time.

Suffice it to say, On The Road is still a legend, despite the deconstruction of some of the myths around it. It is still an example of spontaneity, authenticity and automatic storytelling, but it was carefully edited, modified and honed to make it the great, readable and, ultimately, publishable, work that first came out. It might have taken 50 years for the 1951 uncut “original scroll” to be released (Penguin do a paperback version), but (to quote the Beat-inspired Bob) the times they are a-changin’, and aren’t we lucky to have two texts to study, not just one?

Check out what's coming up next at the Whitworth (and other places around town) on the beautiful new Creative Tourist Cultural Calendar.

Righting the wrongs of apostrophe placement

If there's one thing you all know about me by now (and, in the words of the ginger-haired Manc one, if you don't know me by now, then you'll never ever know me. I sat next to him once in the "legendary" Hacienda, BTW. There's one to tell your grandchildren), it's that I'm a stickler for grammar rules. I get particularly peeved by the misuse of apostrophes, and believe on-the-spot fines should be introduced to weed out the worst offenders.

Imagine my joy, then, when my good friend technicalfault sent me this handy guide on How To Use An Apostrophe. And if you can't work out the correct usage of the popular punctuation mark after perusing this picture-plentiful tutorial, I will be contacting the authorities to revoke your A-star GCSEs! I'm serious. This is the power I wield.

Smoke and mirrors

Here's a fixture for you: a free photographic exhibition for a rainy day in the Quays. The Half: Photographs of Actors Preparing For The Stage is a collection of black and white portraits of thespians, film stars and pantomime queens by Simon Annand that have been gathered in both a fancy coffee-table book and now as an exhibition at The Lowry (until 3 January 2010).


'The half' is a theatre term referring to the final 30 minutes before curtain-up; a brief expanse of time buzzing with tension as the countdown commences over a backstage Tannoy system and the performers focus their thoughts, centre themselves - or just have a sneaky last fag on the fire escape. Annand has documented this nightly ritual over 20 years, gaining privileged access behind the be-starred doors of all the best West End venues and snapping the bold and the beautiful as they wait for their call. 'The dressing room is a physical space that allows for concentration and privacy,' says Annand, 'so the psychological negotiation between the actor and this fictional character can take place.'

The Lowry show includes a great deal more photos than I was expecting, although it is unfortunately hung in what amounts to little more than a poorly lit corridor. It runs the gamut from homegrown talent such as Maxine Peake and Frances de la Tour to big blockbuster stars such as Cate Blanchett and Daniel Craig, and I particularly loved Tilda Swinton's pensive clown and the choppy shot of a laughing Judi Dench.

I turned and faced the door...

(This was taken on my way home from the Manchester Blog Awards, hence the slight camera shake, on a dodgy back street somewhere in the Northern Quarter. I quite like graffiti, especially funny stuff like this and arty stuff like you get in Europe. Maybe I'll dig out some more pics and post them, too. We'll see, eh? Don't go getting your hopes up now; I can't promise anything.)

The magic of mushrooms

Today, I whiled away a pleasant length of time in the orchard between Chorlton Water Park and Northern Moor. Apart from a few unripe raspberries and some crab apples the yellow-orange-red shades of Scotch bonnets, there wasn't anything left for humans or birds. The long eye-shaped leaves had mostly fallen from the cherry trees, and the branches were softly clack-clacking in the gentle breeze higher up. It was very relaxing, just sitting there on the wooden bench in the autumnal Ees, listening to the gentle hum of the nearby motorway and sucking up the smell of the damp earth.

I wandered into the orchard because I - liking gardening, cooking, eating and getting stuff for nowt, as I do - am partial to a bit of foraging and I wondered if there might be some edible bounty still available for the taking. I've always been a keen brambler come late summer and I used to go hazelnut picking with my nan back in the day. At around the same time, I remember finding fabulous fresh field mushrooms hidden in the lush dewy grass of the cow pasture at the end of the bumpy unadopted road near her bungalow. Despite always champing at the bit for the champignon season, I never manage to spot any these days, and I'm too chicken to try and identify other edible varieties without a bit of expert guidance.

Back in April, I was all geared up for making Sunday lunch for my brother-in-law's family, but they cancelled at the last minute, so I decided to take advantage of the early summer warmth and go on an organised forage on Fletcher Moss in Didsbury instead. I'm so glad the plans changed - the herb hunt was brilliant, the sun shone brightly throughout and I met some really lovely folk, including Jesper Launder, the local herbalist who was running the event. We spent a good three hours rummaging around under bushes and alongside boardwalks, and came out clutching all manner of food, including aniseed-tinged Sweet Cicely, tangy three-cornered leeks, pungent ramsons and even some meaty St George's mushrooms. We were taught how to identify the correct species and shown some failsafe doublechecking procedures, and, after our wander, I was pleased to source my own plentiful supply of fungi friends a bit closer to home, giving me a free and flavoursome addition to risotto and pasta well into May.

Anyway, back to the orchard in October, and, as I pottered around looking at the plants and shrubs, I noticed more and more different varieties of mushroom and toadstool down at ground level. There were little teated Liberty Cap-like fellows, bright yellow blobby specimens, solid stark white puffball types, queer inside-out umbrellas, raggedy muck-brown numbers and dusty, turmeric-hued examples. All I can think is that it must be quite a fairy outpost down there in the orchard.



These colour plates are from Edible & Poisonous Mushrooms, a field guide for the amateur mushroom collector that was published in 1894 and written by one of the (apparently) great British mycologists of the nineteenth century, Mordecai Cubit Cooke.


I found the plates reproduced on the wonderful website MykoWeb, first stop for all your 21st-century mushrooming needs. (Mykoweb warns: do not use these plates as a guide to the edibility of any mushroom. The ediblity concepts of some of these species have changed in the past century. The prints are reproduced here for their artistic and historic interest.) I have to say, I like the idea of an "edibility concept" very much. And, from a words point of view, I'm pleased to have been introduced to the term "mycology".

The big picture

238 Tweets + 48 hours + 14 Fineliners + 2 penguins = 1 #TwitterPicture


Last week, black and white illustrator Johanna Basford launched #TwitterPicture, 'a unique concept merging creativity with social networking platform Twitter'. On Wednesday 14 and Thursday 15 October, Basford invited the Twitterati to come up with ideas for the world's first Twitter-inspired artwork and got to work capturing the myriad proffered themes in delicate penned detail. She says: 'The torrent of Tweets came thick and fast, draining several dozen of my beloved Fineliners within the first three hours.'

Read more about this project and see the full finished product on Basford's blog, and learn about all her other fabulous inky adventures on her website.

Keep on trucking

Alphabet Truck is the photographic work of Eric Tabuchi. He has done plenty more interesting stuff, including Twentysix Abandoned Gasoline Stations, French Countryside Skateparks and Road Signs. See here. I used to have a postcard of one of his images, I now realise, but it fell down the back of the fireplace, dammit.

I've put this up for your delectation, because words are made up of letters so by default Words & Fixtures likes letters as well as words.


(Thanks to @MancLibraries, BTW, for flagging this up on Twitter.)

Her name was New York, New York

On tour from the British Museum and showing at The Whitworth Art Gallery until 13 December is The American Scene: Prints From Hopper To Pollock. The fascinating (and free!) exhibition charts printmaking in the US from the early 1900s to 1960; referencing a number of schools, movements and big names (yes, including those two), and exploring various effects on the artform - from outside influences, such as politics, war and immigration, to the introduction of new techniques, including screenprinting, lino cutting and lithography (this example is Louis Lozowick's New York, 1925).


But this is pictures - what has any of it got to do with words?
Whoah there, horsey, we're getting to that bit. Back in 1947, Louise Bourgeois (remember her? Monstrous spiders at the Tate Modern ring any bells?) made her most important set of prints (she kind of moved onto sculpture soon after), He Disappeared Into Complete Silence, at the famous Paris- then NYC-based print studio Atelier 17, and the series forms part of this show. He Disappeared Into Complete Silence combines simple black and white prints (some engravings, some dry point) with a sheet of text to almost paint a picture in your head. Here's Plate 3 in the series, the text to which really conjures up an image of a poor storyteller:

"Once a man was telling a story, it was a very good story too, and it made him very happy, but he told it so fast that nobody understood it."

Two wheels good

Went to Critical Mass last night, so, as some kind of tenuous
link, here's a nice picture of me and one of my four bikes,
enjoying the evening sun on the front lawn of Dunham Massey
out in deepest, darkest Cheshire.


(And yes, I too had noticed that I'm a shadow of my former self.)