even books

Who would ever ban a book? Apart from the guy who played Hitler in the final and best Indiana Jones movie, The Last Crusade? Heaps of people, that’s who – and Australia has a particularly sticky record of it. Elmo Keep and I talked about some of the notable bannings Australia and overseas (Jackie Collins’ 1969’s The Stud, anyone?) and the future of banned books in the world of internet free-for-all with Jesse Cox late in September.

They’ve taken down the podcast so unfortunately you can’t download and listen to our dulcet tones on repeat, so here’s some interesting tidbits to sate you…

How do books get banned?

WHO bans WHAT has been historically messy in Australia, thanks to our overlapping Federal and state legislations: it could be state, it could be federal, it could be the Attorney General, it could be the postal service, it could be the ‘dirty books detail’ of Customs.

Each state had an ‘Obscene Publications Act’, plus there was a ‘Customs Act’ monitoring national borders.

It even sometimes came down to the discretion of the printers, some old fuddies not wanting to set rude words in type.

Things commonly banned: erotica, sex outside marriage, euthanasia, birth control, illicit substances, anarchic texts, homosexuality, so-called obscenities and incitements to violence. Restrictions are usually based on the vague idea of whether it’s ‘likely to cause offence.’
It is only usually unlawful to import, sell or deliver.

Australia in the 1930s and 40s was the height of censorship, with around 5000 books on the banned list.

The Office of Film and Literature Classification in 2006 became known the Australian Classification Board. (omitting Literature from the title, however, some ‘permittable’ publications are still evaluated by the Board)

Some notable bannings:

Lady Chatterley’s Lover

Written by DH Lawrence, this was first published by a porno printing press in Italy and Paris (1928/1929)

In it, Lady Chatterley has an affair with her working-class gameskeeper, Oliver Mellors. Here’s a racy bit:

“And this time the sharp ecstasy of her own passion did not overcome her; she lay with hands inert on his striving body, and do what she might, her spirit seemed to look on from the top of her head, and the butting of his haunches seemed ridiculous to her, and the sort of anxiety of his penis to come to its little evacuating crisis seemed farcical. Yes, this was love, this ridiculous bouncing of the buttocks, and the wilting of the poor insignificant, moist little penis.”

Banned in Britain until 1960 when Penguin took it to court under new obscenity legislation and it was declared ‘not guilty’. Despite this, in 1961 the ban was retained by the Menzies government in Australia. Famously, a copy was smuggled into Sydney via 34 separate letters.

Finally hit the shelves in 1965 when it was published locally (thus circumventing customs).
In Oct 2009 the book escaped the Australia Post banning of three ‘challenging’ books (Nabokov’s Lolita, Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus and Foucault’s History of Sexuality, despite its liberal use of the C and F words).

Slaughterhouse 5

This 1969 time-ripper by Kurt Vonnegut was still being banned as of August 2011 – with a Missouri highschool striking it off the syllabus for creating: “false conceptions of American history and government or that teach principles contrary to Biblical morality and truth,” even though Vonnegut was a decorated war veteran.

An anonymous donor along with the Kurt Vonnegut Library offered to donate free copies to any of the 150 students who had been meant to study the text.

Even Books did a Slaughterhouse 5 musical spectacular once at TINA! It was a choose-your-own-adventure and there was a real-live Montana Wildhack living in a space zoo.

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Despite the book’s use of the ‘N’ word over 200 times, this seminal American classic by Mark Twain was most often banned for its ‘coarse’ language:

“Huck not only itched but scratched, and he said sweat when he should’ve said perspiration.” (Brooklyn Public Library, 1905)

The Anarchist Cookbook

William Powell, 1971

The author of this 1971 cult classic tried to ban his own book after converting to Christianity in 2000 – unfortunately for him, he no longer owned the rights.

1984

George Orwell, 1949

Ironically, for a book sending a grim message about totalitarian censorhip, this Orwellian tour de force is frequently censored or banned, even for its supposed ‘pro-Communism.’

The Satanic Verses

Salman Rushdie, 1988

One of the most inflammatory novels ever written, this book resulted in a riot in Pakistan and the death of five people, a death warrant on the head of the author valued at $1 million, and the death of a Japanese translator who was ‘stabbed to death’ for his involvement. This is for its approach to the Islam faith – throughout, Rushdie refers to the Prophet Muhammad as Mahound (a medieval name for the Devil.)

So, Sunday past we hit the macaroni for our first ever segment on FBi’s Canvas, entitled, rather imaginatively, ‘Even Books on FBi.’ Our host was Jesse Cox and he was super (he was also wearing a great sweater, which those in radio land sadly missed out on). We talked about books and then Jesse interviewed Marieke Hardy for us. Here are some funny things we said:

About our ‘sting’, which is radio speak for some kind of jingle: “AIR HORNS!” *giggles*

Our parties: “Everyone in the room has at least one topic of conversation to conversate about … hence the need for lubrication.”

On pretending we are urban rappers: “We wanted to make the B Club [a literary salon in London] more street, more gutter yknow.”

On one of the smartest women in America: “Tina Fey: a rollicking ride.”

One thing you should probably never suggest on a book club segment: “If you can’t be bothered to read, watch YouTube instead.”

A phrase Virginia Woolf has probably never heard used in relation to her work: “Sensorial zest.”

And some excellent things Marieke Hardy said about her book, You’ll be Sorry When I’m Dead:

On stories like the one that takes place in a Swinger’s Club: “They’re not sexy-sex, Nikki Gemmell stories…”

On baring all: “There’s more raw honesty than dick jokes.”

On allowing those mentioned an unedited ‘right-of-reply’: “That felt like the braver part of the book. Letting go of the reins.”

On the ‘real’ Marieke: “For funny stories, there is a point where you have to be a caricature.”

On her highschool zine: “We nearly broke the photocopier in the library with Sex Bus!”

We unfortunately didn’t get to ask her about season two of her black comedy TV series Laid, which is in-production. If we did, we hope she would’ve said this: “Your box set is in the mail.”

You can listen to the on-demand stream here.

And as for some books we’d like to recommend? On air, we only touched on a few. Ok, two, to be exact. But here are a few more, in random order. Don’t like random? Just you wait till we are such mega-gods of radio and book reviews that we put them in Dewey Decimal AND alphabetical order. Then you’ll be sorry.

Bossypants (Tina Fey) - A spiky blend of humour, introspection and critical thinking from one of the most beloved comedy writers of our time. Pretty much non-stop zingers. You’d have to have been in hiding not to have noticed all the press about it a few months back.
There but for the is by Scottish writer Ali Smith, a lady who looks a little bit like a friendly goblin. It’s about a man called Miles who attends a dinner party and then halfway through, as the hostess torches the crème brulees, disappears into the spare room and refuses to come out. He leaves a note: Fine for water but will need food soon. Vegetarian, as you know. Thank you for your patience. The hosts kind of seem like assholes but still, it’s hard to know what anyone would be like in that situation. They find a random number in his phone book of a lady called Anna who he’d known, barely, twenty years before, so they call her and ask her to come help coax him out. It becomes about how one event can fuse together many stories, which is an Ali Smith trademark. Her Hotel World is about how various women – a maid, a ghost, an eccentric hostel visitor, a homeless lady – are brought together over one night. The Accidental is about one family’s very hot sticky summer spent in the country, and an accidental house guest they acquire, and how she turns all their lives upside down. Smith is a deft and beautiful writer, given to gusts of sensory perceptions and Madeline cake moments – one bite leading to pages of memories and thoughts. You can see a lot of Virginia Woolf in her style, which is very vivid. There but for the came out 2011. (AB)
The Life (Malcolm Knox) tells the story of Dennis Keith (DK), a 58 year old former surf champion who now suffers from OCD and lives with his mum in her nursing home, too fat to sit on a surfboard let alone stand on one. He’s a fictional character, but quite heavily based on real world surf champion Michael Peterson, a famously volatile surfer who was later diagnosed with schizophrenia. It’s a story of self destructive genius, and it’s also a great snapshot of Australia at a particular time, when seaside towns changed under the hands of developers.

People can’t help but compare it to Tim Winton’s Breath, but in stark contrast to Winton’s ornate descriptions of ‘men dancing upon waves’, The Life is written in the language of the line-up: ‘I done this’, ‘yous done that’.

The story is told in the third person and then the first, jumps around between past and present, is crammed with half-sentences, broken sentences, with repetition and colloquialisms. At first everything feels a bit wrong: too choppy, too abrupt, but after a while you go with it, stop noticing, and the words take you somewhere else. A bit like when you first try reading Irvine Welsh. Highly recommended. (AF)
Revolutionary Road is a novel by Richard Yates and is thought of by many as an American classic. It follows the marital breakdown of April and Frank Wheeler, and by extension the breakdown of the American Dream. In the movie directed by Sam Mendes the pair are played by Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio, who are both appropriately attractive and troubled (also, Titanic 2.0!). It has been described as American Beauty circa 1955 and it certainly shares some themes: the disillusionment with the suburban idyll, a vitriolic but also somehow loving marriage, a generation of children who suffer as a by-product of their parent’s decisions. The only problem I had with it was that Yates seemed to dislike his own female character, April – she was beautiful but ultimately not understood. It was very much a man’s tale. Still, fifty years later, it remains a searing and prescient portrait of an America in decline. (AB)
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte) is one of the classics I’m embarrassed to have never got around to reading, and the reason I’m finally doing it now is that I can’t stand to read the book after I’ve seen the film (and I do really want to see the film). So I began with a resigned ‘this will be good for me’ sigh. But happily, I’m just loving it to death. The incorruptible Ms Eyre herself isn’t in the least bit annoying, the conversations between characters are often profound and frankly it’s making me want to be a more clean-living, virtuous person. (AF)

Curse of the Wolf Girl is the follow up to Lonely Werewolf Girl, both by Scottish writer Martin Millar, who looks more like a grumpy elf. While rather silly, it’s lots of fun. The heroine is a snarly but beautiful werewolf warrior called Kalix, and it’s all about her and her messed up royal werewolf family, plus some fire elementals obsessed with fashion, and an overweight or maladjusted human or two. Neil Gaiman rates Millar’s work and so do I. (AB)

I will also admit to this week buying the first instalment in the Game of Thrones saga by fantasy heavyweight George R.R. Martin. And so bid adieu to any spare time I may have had over the next two centuries or so. (AB)

And I’m looking forward to reading A Spectacle of Dust, Pete Postlethwaite’s autobiography, not just because he had a “face like a f-ing stone archway”. (AF)

That’s it! Tune in next time for a back-to-back recitation of James Joyce’s Ulysses, in Dutch-Swahili.

+ + even books + +

Oh hi! Hello! It’s been a while. We’ve been holed up in a cave eating Reader’s Digest. No, not really. As if we’d get that desperate!

But anyway whatever we have been doing has been worth the wait, cos check out our next event … you just might wet your pants.

Tinah Feyman’s BEDPANTS

Tina Fey’s that lady everybody’s obsessed with right now. She created Liz Lemon, gets to work daily with Alec Baldwin, and did a truly excellent impression of Sarah Palin on SNL a while back. She also recently wrote a book called Bossypants that’s so full of funny you can read it front-to-back then back-to-front then front-to-back again and not get bored.
Sarah Silverman is also funny, also worked for SNL, and also recently wrote a book that’s excellent (The Bedwetter). Coincidence? Well, yes. But who cares, because Even Books are combining the witticisms and fart gags of these super-comediennes for a Late Night Library event you won’t soon forget: Tinah Feyman’s BEDPANTS.

For your entertainment:

- Two team of dickheads debate: Are Women Funny?
- An homage to Alec Baldwin
- A guessing game with a difference (hint: it involves pee)
- Doody cookies
- Caricatures of your face as Tina Fey or Sarah Silverman
- Golden classics like: “I’m F**king Matt Damon” and “Pam, The Overly-Confident, Morbidly Obese Woman”

Reference material, i.e. read or die:

- Sarah Silverman’s The Bedwetter
- Tina Fey’s Bossypants

When: Thursday August 4
When more specifically: starting at 8pm, finishing at 10pm (for real curfew)
Where: Surry Hills Library 405 Crown St Surry Hills
How: Sexy Bookings Hotline: 8374 6230 (seriously, you have to book)

Despite what the name might suggest, this is not an exhibition about donuts.

What it is, is a typically Even Books experiment in theming, collaboration and merging of disciplines that includes works from many of Sydney’s most exciting visual artists and writers.

Yes, you read that correctly – we’ve got writers involved and we’re blowing their work up big and bold and hanging it on the gallery wall next to ‘real’ art because, wel…l, why not?

To break the concept down: we asked a group of talented writers to write pieces related to the theme of TWINS/DOPPELGANGERS, and a group of equally talented artists to craft a visual response to the same theme. We then orchestrated a swap, and each creative then responded to someone else’s written or visual piece (writers to visual, artists to text), in a ku-razy loop. These pieces will be exhibited in their pairs, creating a multi-disciplinary exhibition that toys with notions of ‘same’, ‘other’, ‘mine’ and ‘yours’.

So, who are these talented twin-makers?

ARTISTS: Karl Maier (Rinzen), Cybele Malinowski, Kevin Tran, Rachel Feery, Zoe McMahon, Jacob Burge, Bryn Desmond-Jones and Sui Zhen

WRITERS: Amanda Maxwell, Lee Tran Lam, Eddie Sharp, Nadia Saccardo, Caleb Lewis (I love that he has a Wikipedia entry!), Alice Williams, Tessa Lunney and Tom Lee

On opening night (NOV 10) there will be a one-off concept event similarly themed to TWINS/DOPPELGANGERS. You can expect: mirrors, dressed-up doubles, being tied to a stranger, screenings of films and more.

We cannot promise a cameo by Arnie and Danny Devito. But we can hope.

There will also be a limited edition publication available, designed by Blood & Thunder Publishing and with an opening essay by Dimitris Vardoulakis, author of The Doppelganger: Literature’s Philosophy.

MONOZY-OMG! That all makes me DIZZY-GOTIC!

WHERE: Firstdraft Gallery, 116 Chalmers St, Surry Hills
WHEN: Launch party Nov 10, 6-8pm
Exhibition runs until Nov 28 (when there will also be artists’ talks)

The other day I had to catch two planes in one day. That’s two more than I’ve caught all year, and I was pretty excited. Not so much about the flying bit - for me that’s mildly scary and occasionally vomit-inducing - but about the ‘excuse to read dodgy books’ bit. I love those airport news agencies that only stock the base-est of base literature. All those crime novels and gore-fests; Mills and Boons and self-help bestsellers. Plus, there’s noone to witness your indulgence except flight crew, who aren’t allowed to ridicule. It’s in their contract, like how psychs can’t dob on you. True fact.

Anyway, this time around I decided on a little number by Californian author Eric Garcia called The Repossession Mambo. It’s set “in the near future” when people live virtually forever due to a huge market in artificial organs. Our main character is a ‘repo’ guy, whose job it is to go out and repossess these organs if people fall behind on their payments. So far so ‘meh’, right? If I was holding that in one hand and Eat Right For Your Cat’s Personality Type in the other, I’d be torn. But I opened it up, just to get a taste, and discovered this, on page one:

“The first time I held a pancreas in my hand, I got an erection.”

Now that’s a first line. The rest of the book was totally shithouse. I skipped multiple pages at once because I was so bored with the protagonist. But that first line! Damn. It’s my favourite of the year. So thanks, Hobart Airport.

Last Friday night we took part in a curated evening of bedtime stories at Bill+George studios (where our suitcase of books and kitsch panorama pictures live). It was a fundraiser for The Great Wall of Books Project. What’s next, a Pyramid of Giza of Books, or Leaning Tower of Books? Still, we were all for the cause. So we picked a totally inappropriate story and read it without any funny voices. What, we’re not theatre and stage actors! We’re word-loving nerds!

It was a retelling of the poignant adventure Regulate, a 1994 R&B classic by Warren G. and Nate Dogg, with backing glockenspiel refrains. It went a little something like this:

On a cool, clear night (typical to Southern California) Warren G travels through his neighborhood, searching for women with whom he might initiate sexual intercourse. He has chosen to engage in this pursuit alone.

Nate Dogg, having just arrived in the east side of Long Beach, seeks Warren. On his way to find Warren, Nate passes a car full of women who are excited to see him.

Warren makes a left turn at 21st Street and Lewis Ave, in the East Hill/Salt Lake neighborhood, where he sees a group of young men enjoying a game of dice together. He parks his car and greets them. He is excited to find people to play with, but to his chagrin, he discovers they intend to relieve him of his material possessions. Once the hopeful robbers reveal their firearms, Warren realizes he is in a less than favorable predicament …

Full story here.

We also made a colour-in songbook (featuring the original lyrics, which, frankly, were better and more hilarious than the retelling) to go with it. When there’s an opportunity to waste paper, we seize it. The book looked like this, mid-assembly:

And it came with pencils.

If you’d like a copy, you’ll have to suck our cocks first. No, no, a simple holler shall suffice. We’re girls! We don’t even have cocks!

Ahem. While the night was a success, that may be the last time we get asked to perform anything. We’ll just have to stick to staying geeks off the street and being handy with the steal, if you know what we mean.

We’re liking this new trend of writers getting together with musicians to put on nights at the Oxford Art Factory. They always look a little bemused by the fact that there’s a crowd of cheering 20-somethings in front of them. For their part, the crowd look confused too, unsure whether they should imbibe and get loud, or maintain a level of ‘literary’ decorum.

If you happen to attend the latest of these events - that rebel DBC Pierre’s appearance with Gareth Liddiard from The Drones next Tuesday (Aug 31st) - we implore you to do the former. Have we not given you solid training in the art of bringing literary thinking down to the level of drunken tomfoolery? Did we not shine a light along the path of idiocy? Gently push you out of the safe nest of the library/arm chair/workshop so you could fly like the little drunk, literary lunatics that you are?

Do us proud, Sydney. DBC (that stands for ‘Dirty But Clean’ by the way) would want it that way. He’ll be reading from his latest book, Lights Out In Wonderland, which documents, “a young, disaffected aesthete, philosopher and poet on his journey, by way of sensory overload, to oblivion… via the service entrance”. Bottoms up.

Join us next Friday for bedtime stories like you’ve never heard before.

Hey look! The Readers’ Festival was mentioned in Russh magazine, in an article about the resurgence of reading. Reading being cool. Reading and pha shun! Whoo!