Author Interview

Author Interview – Rocco Sweetheart Johnson

by Lane Chasek

 
 

Jokes Review’s new book series, Egregious Pulp, is an egregious, pulpy, NC-17 imprint that harkens back to the days when genre fiction and other forms of “low-class” literature weren’t as esteemed as they are today. This was a time when sci-fi and detective novels were printed on cheap pulp-fiber paper (hence the term “pulp fiction”), and whenever readers were done reading said novels, they’d either burn them in order to cook dinner (hence the term “pot boiler”) or wipe their asses with Chapter 7. 

Rocco Sweetheart Johnson’s Meth Pirate Town is the first title in this brave new series. Meth Pirate Town follows the debauched story of Frank, a one-eyed, multiply terminally-ill drug-, porn-, and slum-lord, and a cast of students, prostitutes, and cops who intersect with Frank’s attempts to build an empire. It’s a novel about meth labs, porn production, affordable housing, and the intricate financial landscape of the sex-work industry. I got in touch with Johnson via email and wound up with the following interview.

Lane Chasek: Well, let’s start things off personally. How did you get from the womb to where you are right now?

Rocco Johnson: I’ve been stomping around the urban wastelands of greater Los Angeles for most of my life. That’s how it started and probably how it’s gonna end.

The first word I thought of when reading Meth Pirate Town was “Dickensian.” Or maybe Tom Wolfe with more drug use. Who would you say your influences are? Am I close with Wolfe?

Yeah, Wolfe is on point. It’s hard to complain about a book like The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby. I like anything with a sense of mania or stylized enthusiasm. Plus an unusual cast of characters.

Here are a few names. Alejandro Jodorowsky, Donald Barthelme, Eve Babitz, François Rabelais, John Waters, Bukowski, Palahniuk, Kōbō Abe, Philip K Dick.

I understand this is your first novel, but I’m always interested in learning about the process behind the novel. Was there a draft before this one? Was this the offshoot of a different project? Or was this more of a rapid-fire first-go-around situation? Really, what’s your process for writing a narrative like this?

I wrote this by hand in a notebook. Using different colored pens. When you flip through it, it’s a crazy, multi-colored mess. I have many notebooks like this. Meth Pirate Town is the first full novel I’ve transcribed from the notebooks, but I’ve probably got a few other novels in there. Definitely a lot of rants, screeds, scribbles, and thoughts.

The protagonist, Frank, uses lube that’s a byproduct of crystal meth production, which is an idea I don’t think Breaking Bad ever touched on. Where did this idea come from?

The book was partly inspired by my time living in an old apartment building where my neighbors on the other side of my bedroom wall, I’m pretty sure, had a meth lab. And I had some reasons to believe my landlord was in on it. So my roommates and I talked about meth a lot. It was a wild time. I imagine “meth lab lube” must have come up as a funny idea at some point. And I must have written it down.

I did watch Breaking Bad, by the way, but not till long after I’d written Meth Pirate Town. All the meth references I have came from my time living in that dumpy apartment.

I understand you currently live in Los Angeles. But as I was reading Meth Pirate Town, I couldn’t help but think of all the similar run-down neighborhoods I’ve encountered in cities like St. Louis and Detroit. It had a real Rust Belt flavor. Did you construct the setting for your novel with a specific slum in mind, or would you say you drew inspiration from a more abstract, Platonic ideal known as “slum”? What does “slum” mean to you?

The town in the book is a mishmash of places I’ve lived or visited–mostly in California but also some other places. There are a couple of clues in the book about where things took place. Somebody really familiar with California cities could probably piece together the geography.

I love words like gutter and trash. Filth. Dirt. Shit. And slum of course. I haven’t thought about it much beyond that.

Porn is a recurring motif in Meth Pirate Town, and this is one of those rare novels that touches on the artistic and cultural merits of porn as a genre. Tell me your thoughts on pornography.

Frank, the main character in the novel, is just really into porn. It’s really deeply ingrained in who he is as a person. He sees everything in the world as something to turn into a porn film. This is a fantastic proclivity for him to have as a character because it makes everything he does kind of goofy and absurd.

The book could be read as a commentary on the dark side of the porn industry. There’s definitely an undercurrent of that. The main female character ends up where she is (as Frank’s muse and secretary) because she’s had a really hard and traumatic life. Surely working for Frank wouldn’t have been her dream job before, for example, she got addicted to meth. But she’s also a champion and fully enjoys her life. So in a sense there’s a meta-commentary that, even despite the horrors of the particular industry you work in, there’s still a lot of enjoyment to be had from life. 

There is quite a lot left to explore in the genre of porn literature. Aside from the book Blue Movie by Terry Southern, there aren’t too many porn-centric books that are really worth reading. My favorite book vaguely in this genre is One Hundred Dollar Misunderstanding by Robert Grover. Hilarious book with a really memorable narrator. But–like most great books–it doesn’t totally lean into the porn elements enough to truly be in the porn genre.

While on the subject of porn: I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who watches lesbian porn. Not even lesbians. Yet everyone seems to agree that lesbian porn is popular. Why is that, do you think? 

OK, for this question I had to cheat. I had to stop and read some articles to find out. The experts say that women enjoy lesbian porn because it centers female pleasure and doesn’t just show women from the perspective of the male gaze. 

And, to pull a quote from the Atlantic, men like lesbian porn because “men are most aroused by visual cues that emphasize youth and downplay drama and emotional complexity. … The only thing better than one nubile, personality-free woman is two of them.”

Fascinating. 

Also I’m down for some lesbian porn and so is Frank, so that makes two of us.

What does the future hold for Rocco Sweetheart Johnson? Any new novels on the horizon? Maybe a short story collection?

I hope to have a story collection finished soon. I’m also getting more into filmmaking and am working on a few (nonpornographic) short films. 

Lane Chasek (@LChasek) is the author of the nonfiction book Hugo Ball and the Fate of the Universe, the poetry/prose collection A Cat is not a Dog, and two forthcoming chapbooks, Dad During Deer Season and this is why I can't have nice things. Lane's current pride and joy is an essay he published in Hobart about Lola Bunny and the latest Space Jam movie.

Author Interview - Darlene Eliot

 
 

“Wait… What did I just read?”

This was my first thought after reading “The Stand-In,” a work of flash fiction by Darlene Eliot, which appears in the recent issue of Jokes Review. In general, I don’t particularly care what a story is about so long as the voice and the style are strong enough or unique in some way. Eliot’s story passed this test easily. I loved the humorous rage that came through on every line. But still—what was this story?

Then it struck me: it was a ghost story—obviously! But it wasn’t a typical ghost story. It subverted genre expectations in a strange and goofy way, and all to very humorous effect.

As it turns out, this is a trademark of Eliot’s work: playing with various genres elements to create something new. She describes her stories as “suburban tales,” and she has a wide range of artistic influences that have helped shape her particular style.

Here is our interview with Darlene Eliot, where we discuss her writing style, her influences, and more:

Peter Clarke: Jokes Review gets shockingly few submissions from people who live in the San Francisco Bay Area, even though we’re based here. It’s hard to escape the feeling that the Bay Area’s time as a literary hub might be over. What’s your experience being a Bay Area writer? Do you think it will ever again be known as a literary hub?  

Darlene Eliot: I’m a Southern California transplant who moved to the Bay Area just before the pandemic. Timing is everything, isn’t it? I’ve always romanticized the Bay Area, admired its literary history, its beauty, the ever-changing weather, and its ability to reinvent itself. With everything that’s occurred in recent years, another reinvention is about to happen, literary scene included. I’m excited to see it happen.

How would you describe your writing style?

My short stories are dark around the edges, sometimes speculative, sometimes dark-humored, sometimes creepy. Most are suburban tales with elements of dread, but I like to throw in some sweetness too because, contrary to popular belief, it still exists in the world.

You mention in your bio that you're inspired by film editors and composers. Can you explain how film editors and composers inspire you? Are there any particular film editors or composers you have in mind as inspirations?

I admire them because they join projects already in motion and have to revise things on the daily. It’s a huge challenge, along with the ups and downs of collaboration. I’m inspired by their ability to work in service of someone else’s vision. I doubt there are any egomaniacs in film editing especially because, when their work is at its best, it’s invisible.

My favorite film editors, past and present, are Thelma Schoonmaker, Dede Allen, Sally Menke, and Walter Murch. Sometimes I put their films on mute, watch how they cut the scenes, and think about how that applies to storytelling on the page. How would this sequence work better if I tried it a different way? The same with music in a scene. How does it enhance or subvert what’s happening between characters?

My favorite composers are Bernard Herrmann, Terence Blanchard, Michael Giacchino, Danny Elfman, Alexandre Desplat, Hans Zimmer, and of course, John Williams. I listen to their music while writing and sometimes to silence my inner critic. Music really does soothe the savage beast.

You’ve said in the past that you're a fan of cross-pollination between genres. What do you like about mixing genres? Do you have a favorite genre combo? Or any favorite writers who play with multiple genres?

I’m fascinated by hybrid writing and incorporating other forms to tell a story. It can be charts, ads, recipes, portions of poems, novels-in-flash, fictional obituaries. Gwendolyn Kiste’s “Sister Glitter Blood” gives the reader instructions on how to play a haunted board game. I love it when writers take a familiar premise, toss it in the air, reconfigure it, then take you on a ride you don’t expect.  

Your story “The Stand-In” is possibly the strangest ghost story I've ever read, totally subverting my expectations about how ghosts behave and interact with the world. What inspired this story and its unusual premise?

The story was inspired by a “what if” conversation with my partner. We were talking about movie depictions of the afterlife and people wanting departed loved ones to send them a sign. He said, if that was possible, he would want me to do it. I felt the opposite and said it would freak me out if he tried to communicate from the afterlife. He looked sad. It was only for a split second, but his reaction caught me off guard, especially because he knows how jumpy I am. I thought about it days later and also thought about the waiting room scene in “Beetlejuice,” which makes both of us laugh. I imagined the camera moving past the counter and into the back office and thought, What’s going on back here? and the story emerged.

What writers have influenced you the most? What are some specific ways you've been influenced by other writers (perhaps in terms of style, voice, writing routine...)?

Ray Bradbury, Shirley Jackson, Helen Oyeyemi, Neil Gaiman, and Sarah Hall.  Ray Bradbury and Neil Gaiman acknowledge the speculative darkness, but there is humor and playfulness mixed in with the menace and struggle. Shirley Jackson and Helen Oyeyemi introduce dread and haunted pasts into everyday circumstance. Sarah Hall’s stories of transformation have unexpected sensory details that make you squirm. All of them have mastered “things are not what they seem” and taken it a step further. 

Who’s an underrated modern novelist that you think more people should read?

Savage satirist Dawn Powell. When Fran Lebowitz, with a collection of over 10,000 books, recommends an author, you listen.

What is the last great short story you read?

It’s hard to narrow it down. There are three that come to mind. “On the Sudden Appearance of Many Large Invisible Floating Spikes” by Aidan O’Brien,  “Oreo Arroyo” by Vanessa Hua, and one I return to often because it reminds me of my family background and also feels like a metaphor for writing, “Fern Gully” by Jonathan Escoffery. Completely different styles. All thought-provoking and wonderful. 

What projects are you working on now?

A collection of short stories, notes for a novella, and trying not to be so jumpy. 

For more about Darlene, visit DarleneEliot.com and follow her on Twitter @deliotwriter.

 
 
 

Author Interview – Brianna Ferguson

 

by Peter Clarke

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“On the very day he met Jenny, Sam’s penis fell off. For weeks, it had been hanging by a thread of rotting zombie flesh, but he hadn’t found the courage to yank it the rest of the way off.”

These were the first two sentences I ever read by Canadian fiction writer and poet Brianna Ferguson. It caught my attention, to say the least. Before I even finished the first page of this story, I sent it over to our fiction editor, Mark Dwyer, alerting him that we were going to publish this story.  

Brianna often grabs the reader with something shocking or even unsettling. But it’s clear she’s not just writing for the sake of cheap shock value. Her stories include thoughtful passages, clever dialogue, practical examinations of life’s basic struggles—hallmarks of great fiction. It’s the combination of all these elements, plus the shock value, that makes Brianna such a pleasure to read.

Since publishing Zombie Mine in the summer 2017 issue of Jokes Review, we’ve published three other stories and one poetry collection by Brianna, making her our most frequent contributor.

To find out more about her unique style, here is our author interview with Brianna Ferguson:

PETER CLARKE: Your stories are always strange, unexpected, sometimes even a little unsettling. How would you describe your style? Do you associate your writing with any particular genre or movement?

BRIANNA FERGUSON: I generally start out with a “what if this happened to someone” kind of idea, and I’ll take it from there. Usually, my “what-ifs” are like “what if you suddenly had glass powers and that somehow tied into the inevitable, lonely death of the whole planet,” but yeah, usually it starts out with something like that and just sort of takes off.

I really like books like Warm Bodies where the whole zombie genre is kind of played with and moulded into a social commentary. I love when people take old monster stories and use them to say something about our society as a whole. I haven’t read much Asimov, but I’ve seen a lot of movies based on his work, where robots are used as a kind of modern Pinocchio to discuss what counts as a human life or a valuable life especially. That’s a big theme in a lot of my writing—people or humanoids being judged simply because of the bodies they were born into.

What writers have influenced you the most? If you could get coffee with any writer currently living, who would it be?

Some of the less-alive authors I absolutely love would be Virginia Woolf, JD Salinger, and Charles Bukowski. All three of them really opened my eyes to what was possible in poetry and prose.

I adore Miranda July and would happily get coffee with her any old day of the week. Same goes for Cat Cohen, Lionel Shriver, and Colin Barrett. We Need to Talk About Kevin has been my favourite novel for about a decade now, and I’ve read July’s The First Bad Man and No One Belongs Here More Than You so many times I’ve had to get replacement copies. 

Do you remember the first story you wrote?

It was about a gal on a train who thinks she’s headed off to a spa for pregnant women, but she’s actually lost her mind after discovering she couldn’t have kids. It was my first foray into exploring through literature the fact that I myself can’t have kids. At the time I thought it was pretty mind-bending, but I think I’d die if it ever resurfaced long enough for a human being other than myself to read it.

Do you have any writing rituals?

I basically always have a coffee going, so definitely some writing and coffee overlap from time to time, but no. Pretty much I go for a walk, and as soon as I’m away from my computer or any sort of modern conveniences, I’ll get ideas and have to rush home and get them down. That’s pretty much the process. I have to be a little afraid I’m going to lose whatever little shred of creativity my brain decided to cough up. Fear’s a fabulous motivator for me.

It seems like a lot of writers grew up in small towns. You and I both have that in common. Do you think there’s anything about rural life that draws people to become writers? Are there any advantages to being a writer in a small town?

I think that any time the brain really gets to stagnate is good for creativity. I’ve worked a lot of boring office jobs where I just sat around all day, and my god, if boredom of that level doesn’t force the brain into new, creative places just to stay alive, nothing will.

It’s nice to have time to myself to write and to think my own thoughts, but no, I think I wrote the same amount no matter where I’ve lived. It’s not about the place, after all. Bukowski said something really great about how if you’re going to write, you’re going to write, no matter what. Too many people get too bent out of shape buying the right desk or sequestering themself in the right way, and it’s really not about that. It’s about being awake and alert and forming ideas and opinions and writing those ideas and opinions down whenever you can. 

As a teacher, what are your thoughts on the next generation of readers and writers? Are kids still drawn to books, to the writer life? 

I definitely had a handful of stand-out readers and writers in every class, but I couldn’t say how similar or different that is to other generations. There were definitely those few students whose eyes lit up whenever I started a new literary unit of some kind, and if they can hold onto that spark of excitement, we’re in good hands. But who knows. I’d barely started to consider writing when I was in high school. It was just something I did sometimes. Mostly I wanted to be an actress or a trophy wife.

What projects are you working on now?

I’m in grad school right now, and for my Master’s thesis I’m working on a novel about a high school student who finds out she’s intersex. I’m also finishing a poetry manuscript I’ve been working on for like five years, and another one I’ve been working on for about a month. The first one’s about nihilism and beer and trying to make sense of existence without a spiritual framework. The second one’s basically just endless confessions, which is super purgative and super fun. I haven’t had a book published yet, but then, I haven’t tried yet, so yeah, I’m hoping all three get out there in the world pretty soon. 

Works by Brianna published in Jokes Review:

For more about Brianna, visit Briannaferguson.ca or follow her on Twitter @brianna_eff.