We contacted August Kleinzahler because we wanted to talk about his poetry. But one can talk only so much about the writing of verse. And August Kleinzahler, in granting dozens of interviews to dozens of journals, has done his fair share of talking.  So, on his suggestion, we detoured into the world of music, a world Kleinzahler inhabits in his new book of essays, Music I-LXXIV. The book takes readers on 74 brief and acid-wise journeys, starting at the Liberace Museum in Las Vegas and ending with an examination of Bach’s Suites for Solo Cello. Kleinzahler’s appetite is large. His knowledge is vast and, at times for the reader, humbling (we had to use Google occasionally, which probably fills Kleinzahler with a secret, devilish glee). Eventually we overcame our shame, and now rightly admit that Music I-LXXIV is fascinating and enjoyable — a polished-intellectual-sensual-revelatory-wisecracking read. And one that any person with an interest in sound should take up. — Kevin Murphy

Dark Sky Magazine: How long have you been writing about music, where’d you get your start?

August Kleinzahler: I received a phone call in the autumn of, I think ’97, out of the blue, asking if I wanted to write a weekly music column for the San Diego Reader. The individual who made the invitation, Judith Moore, an editor at the Reader who lived in Berkeley, had read a piece I’d written in The Threepenny Review about selling my CD collection. I was of at least two minds about the offer, even though I was unemployed, then I went down the block to the local independent bookstore and leafed through the current Rolling Stone and Spin and determined that if I could breathe and micturate at the same time I could do better than that. I wrote, and made my living, writing that column for three and a half years.

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Deleriously White

It’s winter in America and people are sick, or snowed in. DSM Fiction Editor Brian Carr lives in Texas, so snow there ain’t really a factor. Even still, illness, germs, fatigue, they all pervade. Brian is laid up in bed and we wish him well.

Here in the Northwest we’ve had a mild winter — no snow, moderate temperatures and limited rain. But again, illness finds a way in: Our dear fiancée has a red nose, sore throat and aches and pains. We’re keeping our distance and hope that by week’s end she’ll be ready to hike one of Vashon Island’s many beautiful trails.

Most of our family resides on the east coast. So far we have no illnesses to report, but we do have plenty of stories coming into our voicemail regarding the god-forsaken rotten snow and all its dirty leftovers.

Snow + illness = A cold winter sandwich. People tend to grow ill when they’re cooped up indoors. People tend to turn blue when too much white is on the ground. It’s a sandwich few can stomach. Interesting, then, that countless novels, stories and essays have chronicled these very same circumstances and been hugely successful and entertaining reads.

Here’s a couple scenes from three of our favorites. — Kevin Murphy

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