Thanks much, SF Signal folks.
So, I don’t do terribly many readings, but every now and then, I crawl out into the light for some company. For those in the D/FW area, I’m giving a reading at TCU on January 25. Admission is free, of course, and there might even be time for a few questions if you have some.
Jason Erik Lundberg reviews Noise quite positively over at SF Site.
One can’t help but become swept up in Hiram and Levi’s single-minded pursuits: collect supplies, gather the Group, get out of the city, and establish a new society at their chosen haven, designated Amaranth. Hiram’s disassociated voice gets in your head and under your skin, so very sensible even when describing the mowing down of a potential mob with a .50-caliber machine gun or the firebombing of a National Guard humvee. And it is this unique voice that is the book’s strongest and most persuasive feature.
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In February of this year, I had the privilege of being interviewed at 1670 AM, an independent, underground AM radio station here in Denton. The experience was fascinating and entertaining, if not a bit drunken—as all such interviews should be I think. I am finally able to share the full thing with you, wherein I discuss Noise, the apocalypse, and writerly identity. The entire thing is about an hour and ten minutes long, and there are a few f-bombs, so you may not want to play it at full volume at work, but therein lies anything you might ever have wanted to know about the novel, Denton/Slade, and how I write.
Images like this (an underground flyer full of instructions for the rioters and looters participating in the riots occurring in England just now) remind me of Salvage—the underground, counter-cultural apocalypse movement from Noise. Certainly, this flyer doesn’t have much in common with Salvage manifestos, but its existence (paired with organization via social networks or Internet pockets) just reminds me of 2007, when I was trying to figure out how to put Salvage together.
“This is a stunner of a novel, with a modernist almost poetical style, and a concept that blasts its way through the hoary old clichés. Even more remarkably, Bradley does all this in around 200 pages, an amazing exemplar of brevity in a world of bloated doorstops. It’s the best fiction book I’ve read this year.”
Last night, I got together with D/FW’s beloved Shiny Around the Edges to rehearse for our shared performance at Words and Music, part of the 2011 35 Conferette. I’m already a big fan of Shiny, so getting together after
too many a few beers to see how we might combine their signature noise-rock with my apocalyptic novel was a huge thrill. Here are a few pictures from our evening, and while you’re at it, learn a little more about Shiny.
So, last night, I joined a couple of friends of mine at an underground, DIY radio station for an interview about all things Noise. The interview itself was a lot of fun—challenging and wide-ranging. But being in front of that broadcasting rig, in a dark room, listening to the AM distortion of our conversation in real-time: that was something. The experience was surreal: I was participating in the most Salvage-esque activity I can, even if we were talking about the book and not about the collapse of the nation-state.
My pal Shannon, the brains behind this production, has got big plans for both the recording and the video we took. There are more legs to this project, so stay tuned.
So, from the fall of ’09 to roughly spring of ’10, I put together a number of multimedia easter eggs over at Salvage Country to help give folks an idea of what to expect from Noise. The idea was to get away from your traditional write-ups and summaries and other uninteresting web mash. You know, whatever.
While cleaning photos off of my digital camera’s media chip this morning, I came across this gem. It conjures memories of even earlier times in college, when I collaborated with some other creative types to make a couple of short films and a documentary, on dental floss budgets. Everything then (as now) was based on creativity and innovation and how to get around a general lack of equipment.
So, when recording my reading of Chapter 1 (from Noise), I needed a method to keep the percussive “p” sounds away from my cheap-ass PC microphone. Lacking a proper windscreen or spit guard, I came up with the following: a can of olives, opened at both ends, with a dress sock rolled over one opening. The result? Scroll on through my sidebar over there and listen for yourself.