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Masques for the Fields of Time
Many of these stories-most especially "The Man Who Haunted Himself" and the title story-were inspired by dream visions. I try to take such visions and search for the human truth concealed within, working within a framework of verisimilitude. While I partially envy the creating of "realistic" fiction, I'm typically happy to write in the romantic mode. Um, gee, Vonnegut, Emily Bronte, and Laurence Sterne strike me as worthy of emulation. Nonetheless, several other stories in this collection ("Soft Queen," "Ontological," and "All Lovely") were originally intended for a novel of linked stories that basically aimed toward an admixture of psychological/love/detective realism. For the sake of that novel's plot progression the three were trimmed, to be included herewith. And then the stories "Breakdown Club" and "The Secret Life of Atheists" from whence? The latter came from my youthful infatuation with Sartre and Camus. Why not, I figured, toss in some wine and Simone DuBeauvoir? And what of "Breakdown Club"? The junction of a trip to the zoo and my year and a half apprenticeship as a concrete finisher brought that one about. No matter the inspiration, I do think that all these stories offer a vision of life that comes across a bit skewed. And what life doesn't offer that jaunty description, in the end?
184 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
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3 people want to read
About the author
Joe Taylor
71 books41 followersI’ve had stories published in over 100 literary magazines. Pineapple, A Comic Novel in Verse, was published by Sagging Meniscus Press, as was Back to the Wine Jug, another novel in verse. NewSouth Books published The Theoretics of Love. Sagging Meniscus also published a story collection of mine, entitled Ghostly Demarcations. A previous novel of mine, Oldcat & Ms. Puss: A Book of Days for You and Me, was published several years ago by the now defunct Black Belt Press, and it was reviewed in Publishers Weekly. I have three story collections published, and I’ve edited several anthologies, notably, Belles’ Letters: Contemporary Fiction by Alabama Women and Tartts One through Five. I recently published a novel with the imposing title, Let There Be Lite, OR, How I Came To Know and Love Godel’s Incompleteness Proof. I’ve been the director of Livingston Press . . . forever.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
May 30, 2011
The Book Report: Thirteen richly imagined stories in a fourth collection of same from Alabama's weirdest living writer, Dr. Joe Taylor. 'Nuff said.
My Review: Full disclosure: I liked Joe Taylor's writing so much that, twenty years ago when I was a literary agent, I took it on and flogged it all over New York. Then as now, safe sells, so Joe and I parted company sadder but wiser. Well, I was, anyway, and not to mention highly entertained by getting to read his stuff first.
Well, Joe's still Joe, albeit older'n dirt and about as pretty these days (really, dude! that author photo!); his eye is still sharp as a flensing knife, though. Stories truly are everywhere in Joe Taylor's world. God help you if you're expecting them to be predictable, or soothing, or bland. They're as unsettling to read as Magritte's paintings are to study. They're packed tight and extra-full, like any good shot that's got to take out the elephant of complacent reading; this book is a laser-sighted musket, focused and powerfully loaded but using for its own ends the fine, old-style craftsmanship of storytelling.
My recommended starter story: "Highway One, Revisited" (despite the fact that it's not the first story of the collection), which begins:
"Sooner or later, it's a dead end, you might philosophically assert. You might say this even as you hear glass shatter ahead, even as you later come upon a six pack of beer bottles snapped across that highway like gaseous stellar matter novaed across the Crab Nebula."
That's pretty much what you are in for; buy the ticket for a mere $20, spend the day surfing the waves and crests of Joe's skewed (his word! his word!) imagination instead of the Internet. Time well spent.
My Review: Full disclosure: I liked Joe Taylor's writing so much that, twenty years ago when I was a literary agent, I took it on and flogged it all over New York. Then as now, safe sells, so Joe and I parted company sadder but wiser. Well, I was, anyway, and not to mention highly entertained by getting to read his stuff first.
Well, Joe's still Joe, albeit older'n dirt and about as pretty these days (really, dude! that author photo!); his eye is still sharp as a flensing knife, though. Stories truly are everywhere in Joe Taylor's world. God help you if you're expecting them to be predictable, or soothing, or bland. They're as unsettling to read as Magritte's paintings are to study. They're packed tight and extra-full, like any good shot that's got to take out the elephant of complacent reading; this book is a laser-sighted musket, focused and powerfully loaded but using for its own ends the fine, old-style craftsmanship of storytelling.
My recommended starter story: "Highway One, Revisited" (despite the fact that it's not the first story of the collection), which begins:
"Sooner or later, it's a dead end, you might philosophically assert. You might say this even as you hear glass shatter ahead, even as you later come upon a six pack of beer bottles snapped across that highway like gaseous stellar matter novaed across the Crab Nebula."
That's pretty much what you are in for; buy the ticket for a mere $20, spend the day surfing the waves and crests of Joe's skewed (his word! his word!) imagination instead of the Internet. Time well spent.
December 18, 2011
Rating: 3.5* of five
The Book Report: Thirteen richly imagined stories in a fourth collection of same from Alabama's weirdest living writer, Dr. Joe Taylor. 'Nuff said.
My Review: Full disclosure: I liked Joe Taylor's writing so much that, twenty years ago when I was a literary agent, I took it on and flogged it all over New York. Then as now, safe sells, so Joe and I parted company sadder but wiser. Well, I was, anyway, and not to mention highly entertained by getting to read his stuff first.
Well, Joe's still Joe, albeit older'n dirt and about as pretty these days (really, dude! that author photo!); his eye is still sharp as a flensing knife, though. Stories truly are everywhere in Joe Taylor's world. God help you if you're expecting them to be predictable, or soothing, or bland. They're as unsettling to read as Magritte's paintings are to study. They're packed tight and extra-full, like any good shot that's got to take out the elephant of complacent reading; this book is a laser-sighted musket, focused and powerfully loaded but using for its own ends the fine, old-style craftsmanship of storytelling.
My recommended starter story: "Highway One, Revisited" (despite the fact that it's not the first story of the collection), which begins:
"Sooner or later, it's a dead end, you might philosophically assert. You might say this even as you hear glass shatter ahead, even as you later come upon a six pack of beer bottles snapped across that highway like gaseous stellar matter novaed across the Crab Nebula."
That's pretty much what you are in for; buy the ticket for a mere $20, spend the day surfing the waves and crests of Joe's skewed (his word! his word!) imagination instead of the Internet. Time well spent.
The Book Report: Thirteen richly imagined stories in a fourth collection of same from Alabama's weirdest living writer, Dr. Joe Taylor. 'Nuff said.
My Review: Full disclosure: I liked Joe Taylor's writing so much that, twenty years ago when I was a literary agent, I took it on and flogged it all over New York. Then as now, safe sells, so Joe and I parted company sadder but wiser. Well, I was, anyway, and not to mention highly entertained by getting to read his stuff first.
Well, Joe's still Joe, albeit older'n dirt and about as pretty these days (really, dude! that author photo!); his eye is still sharp as a flensing knife, though. Stories truly are everywhere in Joe Taylor's world. God help you if you're expecting them to be predictable, or soothing, or bland. They're as unsettling to read as Magritte's paintings are to study. They're packed tight and extra-full, like any good shot that's got to take out the elephant of complacent reading; this book is a laser-sighted musket, focused and powerfully loaded but using for its own ends the fine, old-style craftsmanship of storytelling.
My recommended starter story: "Highway One, Revisited" (despite the fact that it's not the first story of the collection), which begins:
"Sooner or later, it's a dead end, you might philosophically assert. You might say this even as you hear glass shatter ahead, even as you later come upon a six pack of beer bottles snapped across that highway like gaseous stellar matter novaed across the Crab Nebula."
That's pretty much what you are in for; buy the ticket for a mere $20, spend the day surfing the waves and crests of Joe's skewed (his word! his word!) imagination instead of the Internet. Time well spent.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews