Everything Is Always Wrong

It’s no secret we like Graham Tugwell. I believe JDP was the first lit mag to publish him back in 2011 with “Mammy’d Give Me Minds to Eat.” A year later we highlighted Graham’s work on St. Patrick’s Day and have remained big fans as he’s undertaken a spectacular (and crazy prolific) indie writing career.

So we were pretty excited when a package from Ireland arrived at our underground lair a few weeks back, containing a minty-fresh copy of his debut mini-collection, Everything is Always Wrong. (It’s technically called a “collectionette,” which we think is Gaelic for “nicely produced chap book.” We’re just gonna call it a book from here on.)

Everything Is Always Wrong starts out with a simple prologue urging you to know the rules:

1. There is No God.
2. Love is Impossible.
3. The Universe is Malign.

It’s a concise and simple summation of the feel-good attitude that pervades Graham’s work and makes him so endearing. As prologues/forewards go, it’s a great start – not just to the book, but as the cruelly brutal mission statement that lies at the core of the more than seventy stories Graham’s published in the past two years.

After that, though, I honestly held my breath for a lot of the book. I obviously enjoy Graham’s writing a great deal, but I wasn’t entirely sure about the story selection. The JDP-published “We Left Him with the Dragging Man” is included, which is great (we nominated it for a Pushcart), but that’s something I’ve already read half a dozen times. Of the other four stories, “Romancing the Crab” and “High Five, Danny O’C” were both solid, showing the special gift Graham has for blending dark comedy, stark horror, warped sexuality, and social awkwardness into a speculative fiction soup uniquely his. But neither of them truly knocked me out. Moreover, the fourth entry, “Unskin Me with Your Neck of Knives,” while not bad per se, seemed a bit of a misstep. I would’ve preferred something a bit stronger like “Sweetly Tight Comiseratrix…Sadness Cultivating” or the unbelievably good “My Son Is My Motorbike” in that slot instead. (But then I’m a pain in the ass.)

Fortunately, the real payoff comes at the end of the book with “They’ve Come to Paint the Doors Again.” It’s simply fucking brilliant. There’s a quote floating around the Internet that compares Graham to Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker, which might seem a bit much at first. But after reading “Paint” you feel it’s completely valid. As an editor, it’s the one story that made me go, “Goddamn, I wished we published that.” With “Dragging Man,” it tips the balance of the book from just solid to fucking great.

In short, Everything Is Always Wrong is worth picking up, even if shipping from Ireland is a bit pricey. We have a feeling Graham will eventually catch on with a bigger audience. When he does, you can tell everyone how you were into him way back when and have the collectionette to prove it. Then you can explain what a collectionette is.

Attack of the Drones

In just a couple more days, we’ll have a double-stuffed special issue of Lovecrafty goodness for you to read. It’s the perfect thing to take on the long Fourth of July weekend. Forget the fireworks and hot dogs, nothing says mid-summer fun like insanity-inducing shadow deities from the edge of the cosmos.

While you wait to see what our writers have cooked up for you, be sure to check out our excellent June Issue. It sports one of our favorite covers, plus great fiction by Ricardo Angulo, Nick Depke, Ric Carter, Jon Wesick, Robert Buswell, and Isaac Boone Davis. And our first ever poem, by Helena Ainsworth.

Shotgun Shine

James Gandolfini, 1961-2013

In Jersey, we have deep affection for anyone who doesn’t run from their Jersey roots, let alone celebrates them. Bruce Springsteen. Kevin Smith. Fuck, even Bon Jovi. And, yes, even Tony Soprano, the man at the core of a show that became synonymous with the Garden State, while portraying it as a corrupt, stripper-obsessed backwater.

(Which, of course, is in no way true at all.)

As Kevin tweeted earlier tonight, James Gandolfini gave a soul to the monster at the heart of The Sopranos. The show changed television — and made people all around the world drive through a Jersey Turnpike tool booth each week during the opening credits.

There always will be a love-hate relationship between Jersey and The Sopranos; Jimmy Gandolfini was definitely part of the love. Rest in peace.