On Brooklyn Rail, Fest, and Feminism

A supernova of sensory succulence greeted visitors to this year’s Brooklyn Book Festival at Borough Hall on Sept. 21. An abundance of authorship. A whirlwind of writerly wisdom. A kinetic caravan of creativity! From the readers and panel discussions on stage, to the plethora of literary journals and publishers represented in booths, to the crowd itself, this year’s event was a smashing success.

As one articulate passerby exclaimed, #BKBF FOREVA

This writer was duly impressed by the likes of Electric Literature, Graywolf Press, the Vonnegut Library, Slice, A Public Space, and Brooklyn Rail, among others. After picking up the latest issue of Brooklyn Rail, I found myself confronted with the talent of the artistic multiverse of Brooklyn. Reviews of art in all its various forms – drama, visual art, music, and literature – were sagacious and expertly-expressed. NB – Booth staffers at this venerable publication did not bat an eye at my questions. Kudos to them for their serene demeanors and helpful words. It’s not every day that a 7 ft 9 in, shaggy Adonis makes a bee line for you and begins interrogating the vessel of your livelihood. Well done, sirs and ladies.

In this issue, I found myself reflecting upon Ashley P. Taylor’s review of Roxanne Gay’s (@RGay) new essay collection, Bad Feminist, a book IMG_0739[1]which is making the rounds as we speak and earning a great deal of well-deserved accolades. Formerly of The Rumpus, Mlle. Gay has put forth a conscience-engaging set of arguments. I intend to seek out the book at my next visit to Word Bookstore. I am intrigued by the idea of this so-called “bad feminist.” What a ticklish notion. I picture gangs of feminists loitering outside of 7-11; chasing each other playfully around befuddled geriatric pedestrians; slouching on urban street corners as they flip coins into the air and catch them smartly in the palms of their hands.

There must be an -ist or an -ism for the peculiar kind of challenges I have met in the course of shopping around my forthcoming memoir, Beautiful On The Outside (coming soon in scratch n’ sniff scents). What would one call a pervasive bias in the publishing industry against towering, brilliant bipeds with shattering good looks? Might they be “Chet-ist,” perhaps? Or perhaps I myself espouse the new radical ideology of “Chet-ism?”

Latin linguists, do get in touch. I entreat you for your informed suggestions. Twit me @City_Sasquatch or by email at chetsasquatch@humanoid.net



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