Let's wrap up the week with some people I want to give love to, a leap forward in comic book diversity, and a tribute to two women: one who really loves pulp fiction, and another who makes me really want to go to Sri Lanka.
And an appreciation of my younger son's artwork. As applied permanently to my arm.
First off the blocks: Gary Ghislain, the Riviera-living Paco Rabanne-loving author of How I Stole Johnny Depp's Alien Girlfriend, is doing a blog tour. I signed up to be a stop on that tour - which I never do, because just between you and me, many authors are not nearly as interesting as you'd think they might be and besides I can never think of interesting questions - because I wanted to ask him, like
- a) Was your mother anything like the venomous iceberg of a mother in your book? and
- b) What is with a straight man tossing out fashion references as if just everyone has Catherine Deneuve's 2007 Oscars dress as a mental ready reference item? I mean, I do that all the time, but nobody knows what the hell I'm talking about except my friend Jamie.
But Kirkus basically asked those questions, and so I bowed out of the blog tour. They did not ask, c) "Did you run into Johnny Depp at the Riviera Stop 'n' Shop and check to make sure he didn't mind you using his name in your book?" but I don't think he would have answered that if I'd asked it either.
Anyway. Read that book. Read the Kirkus interview too - the guy is funny. And now I want to see all his tattoos. I've shown you one of mine...
Next! I did a shortie not-really-a-review review of my friend Steve's new graphic novel, Medusa's Daughter, a while back. Steve and his writing partner Jonathon Scott Fuqua are making the book available as a graphic novel and a print novel, and they've successfully funded the printing of both through Kickstarter. Congratulations!
Yes, little dude, it gets better*. So here's some news - Archie has a gay friend. Have you seen this? The new kid at Riverdale High is blonde, clean-cut Kevin Keller, an easy-going, patriotic Ken doll of a guy. So far, we've seen Veronica try to nab him, met his childhood friends, seen him come out to his parents, and barf after a pie-eating contest. It's Archie, what do you expect?
I never have figured out who reads Archie. Little kids can't possibly be interested in the whole Betty vs. Veronica BS, and what teen would be caught dead reading Archie? My husband postulates that it's actually how the Illuminati communicate with each other. Whenever Jughead sticks out his tongue, it's a signal to activate the radio beacons in the pyramids.
Click here. I'm not kidding. Just go over to Flickr and look at the Cindy Shermanesque book cover photos by a woman named Mala Land. Me, I am agog. You will be too. And now I have to locate a book called The Case of the Dancing Sandwiches.
And just about lastly, we may need to book a room at Helga's Folly, a hallucinogenic hotel in Kandy, Sri Lanka. I read about this place in a biography of Isabella Blow, and if you think Isabella was a bit weird, well apparently she was nothing compared to her mother in law Helga. What does this have to do with children's lit? Well... I am just waiting for someone to write a YA series loosely based on the life and exploits of the Blow clan. It would make The Clique novels look like The Babysitters Club.
*Wow, when you Google "It gets better" the results come up with a special little rainbow graphic on the search box. This is an example of the kind of thing that makes Google my least-disliked large tech company.