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For Monday night's launch there was simply no question of whom I would ask to do the actual 'launching' speech for me (a book isn't actually "launched" unless someone important says something important about it), the only human who could have possibly done this was Steve Smart.
(Photo by Andrzej Sobieszczuk)
The following is a transcript of his launch speech:
The
history of self-publishing is a rich, albeit chequered one, from cave paintings
to Sufi mystics to Queensland action novelist Matthew Reilly.
In
1967 Valerie Solanis self-published her 'Scum Manifesto' in hopes to change the
world and its patriarchal ways, or at least get Andy Warhol to pay her some lip
service. Andy's lips were apparently busy with more important matters like
sucking his own cock. The work reached wider readership when she tried to kill
him and has since been reprinted and excerpted many times.
(I'm
told the SCUM Manifesto may have been a misunderstood joke - many of Randall's
jokes are also misunderstood.)
Through
the second half of the 20th century and early part of the 21st
Lawrence Ferlinghetti published many of his contemporaries (beats and
otherwise) through his City Lights imprint, but also found time to publish his
own work to great acclaim. He is widely considered to be one of the finest of
the Beat poets. So far as has been recorded Lawrence never tried to kill
anyone.
And
in the 1700s William Blake eked out a living contributing illustrations,
etchings and engravings to other people's literary works, meanwhiles he was
often to be found illustrating his own self-published books of poetry, known as
'illuminated books' (a lineage 'One For The Road' continues). Yes, even the
author of 'Innocence and Experience' published his own shit! A controversial
figure, considered mad during his lifetime, Blake's poetry is now considered to
be among the greatest in written history. We're fairly sure William Blake often
wanted to kill publishers.
Hmm...
So, next time somebody says self-publishing is vanity publishing you may feel
free to quote the works of William Blake. And Randall Stephens. Who has
probably never tired to kill anyone either, not even me and we were on tour for
aaaages.
Randall
Stephens is better known as a 'performance poet' or 'slam poet' (which he
rightly denies). This diabolical back-handed compliment is supposed to indicate
someone whose work does not sit kindly on the page and can only be considered
in a more theatrical construct. As you will discover when you buy the book,
Randall's work has evolved very strongly on the page. However it is true that
his poetic output up to this point has largely been channelled through live
performances and audio recordings. He is also a prodigious blogger and often
road tests his work on social media. (Yes, that bloody Twitter account.) He has
been published in print in Little Raven's online and print anthologies and in Australian
Poetry’s online journal Sotto. His first chapbook was supposed to be a split
book with local bon vivant Steve Smart entitled 'Fuck These Guys' but due to
the pressures of work, travel and an evolving aesthetic FTG was temporarily
shelved pending a contextual overhaul. Yep. Well, and there were the death
threats...
And
so we come at long last to 'One For The Road', Randall's first collection of
poetry. The one before the next one, which he is already working for that will
come before the one after that which may or may not be 'Fuck These Guys'. 'One
For The Road' is reflective of a more reflective side of Randall's poetic ouvre
(Bam!) while still highlighting a number of the poems that make his live show
so dynamic. But no dinosaurs or insults about 'your' boyfriend.
From
the opening poem 'We'll Always Have Paris', well known to many of you, 'One For
The Road' is a series of journeys and of love poems, so often both at once.
There is hope and frustration, often both at once, and there is a will to
continue, to find meaning. Of course there is anger at times (see Auckland,
unless you're from Auckland, in which case you may want to skip to the closing
verses of 'Auckland' which will make you want to punch Randall much less;
people from Auckland being sometimes a bit touchy about... Auckland) but the
anger is tempered with the understanding that things are not always so clear
cut and even where it seems unlikely still there are moments that make things
less shit.
Following
Auckland there is 'In Sydney', which is a balanced view of a city that is often
painted in too few shades. Randall captures Sydney in a way that perhaps only a
fond outsider can, with many different snapshots making a satisfying whole.
From there to Borneo, where the pith helmet makes its first appearance.
Thailand, India, Nepal... I'm not going to list all the places 'One For The
Road' travels through, or the people that populate them except to say that each
one is given its own space, its own focus as part of the whole continuing
journey. Taurangan Armpit battle-rams through countries, continents, all the
places Randall has been foreign (including Brisbane and Canberra) taking few
prisoners and indicating that the planet is not necessarily 'Lonely' so much as
dank, sweaty, half-crazed and very loud, but fun at the same time. There are
conversations real and imagined, there are moments just staring at one horizon.
And there are jokes, oh lord there are some stinkers!!
And
yes, there is more of the pith helmet.
This
is at its heart not a book of travel poems, because books of travel poems suck,
it's a book of personal experiences, of moments that you expand into.
The
book ends with a book-end poem, a rejoinder to 'We'll always have Paris',
returning home with the sadness that can entail. It's a fitting close to a book
of such breadth and a fine poem.
But
wait, it ain't over, there's more to come... check out the preview of the next
book!
Randall
would like to thank Alex Scott for the cover, back
and title page photos and Grace Brosnan and Steve Smart for editing
assistance.
It's
launched, now buy it, or he really will kill the puppy!
_______________________________________
-Peace
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