A preemptive review on the upcoming book, Richard Yates, by Tao Lin, done for a potential and seemingly eminent free copy of said book via a contest on his blog here where you can complete different services for goods/currency and everyone participating/spectating/lurking seems to be happy, having a good time, feeling a sense of ‘togetherness’ in this literary ‘blogosphere’ by Cody Troyan.
Tao Lin, the ‘man’
Cuddling up to the works of Tao Lin is an act of perseverance. If someone, who might just be Tao Lin, was reading Tao Lin to a group of people with virgin ears to the works of Tao Lin, most would probably laugh, a couple would walk out, and a few ‘advanced evolutionary models’ or ‘self’-proclaimed ‘advanced evolutionary models’ would stay and either say ‘sweet words, bro’ or say ‘you are the voice of the ‘Internet generation’/’Kmart realism’/[another aesthetically pleasing title for Tao Lin would go here]. Those that walked out and blogged about how he’s ‘dismantling something something norm norm stigma’ often do come back, at first for the level of readability, and then for all the ‘fun, ennui-infused times to be had.’ Perseverance.
I haven’t had direct contact with Tao Lin. I got promotional stickers in the mail from him though. It made me feel like the world was small. Which made me happy, because then that makes me feel like I’m not missing all that much while I type this.
Tao Lin, the ‘target’ [via Richard Yates]
Alec Niedenthal [the last name makes me think ‘Neanderthal’ in my head, repeatedly] reviewed Richard Yates on HTMLGIANT positively. Someone said he was ‘blowing’ Tao Lin. I felt like defending the writer of this book I haven’t read, in what is a ‘semi-clever-stream-of-consciousness-wait-what-is-true-consciousness’ kind of manner:
i loved this review. tao has no formula but an ever-expanding proof about unlikely existence & how ‘fucked’ it all is. i could staple together all of tao’s work and read it through, not feeling any solid break in character, not because he is repetitious or unoriginal or bases everything off of himself, but because he knows all too well the epitome of ‘i’m lost & too tired to do anything about it.’
haters keep hatin’. it’s like a chinese finger trap.
This might mean I’m metaphorically ‘blowing’ Tao Lin too, but just the idea of his book has made me feel a certain way about certain ascertained things.
The whole ‘post-ironic’ aspect of the characters in the book, Dakota Fanning and Haley Joel Osment, are very clever. It’s like making ‘those annoying non-sequiturs’ into ‘those gosh-darn lovable lovebirds.’ Most people must be expecting a memoir of Tao’s vague relationship struggles only with stamping recognizable names in place of the generic ones…in reference to Shoplifting from American Apparel’s ‘Sam’ and ‘Robert’ [Zachary German seems like a cool bro, shout-out here]. Contrary to this surface belief, there seems to be a certain ‘deepness’ that everyone is talking about when it comes to Richard Yates. Something about how you get ‘embroiled in a minimalist soup that you never would expect to contain a palatable secret ingredient, feeling dumb for not realizing transparent vegetable [vegan?] broth can hide things from you too.’
My mind, dancing with thoughts of the saccharine-soaked child actors who now both have questionably sunken-in eyes seemingly incongruent with their blemish-free, pale faces, I convinced my friends that Dakota Fanning made a sex tape with Lil’ Wayne in his pre-‘slammer’ desperation. That same night I considered using Richard Yates as my drunken pseudonym in case of a ‘questionable physical interaction’ with a female. My friend said, ‘Nah bro, use like, Ernest Hemingway to see how dumb she is.’ I didn’t speak to a single girl while at that party.
Richard Yates, the ‘mollusk man’
I like the book cover, a lot. I don’t know any of its ‘industry secrets’ or if the conch is an ‘allusion to the perverse, thecal nature of the book’ or if people think Richard Yates was a depressed man who liked collecting shells on the beach, and this is his ‘formerly forgotten but then remembered story.’ Maybe all he had in his life was his shells, listening to the ‘faraway sounds of a world of natural solemnity’ while he lay in his bed in the fetal position, looking much like a coiled shell himself.
The promise/premise of Richard Yates alone opens up all sorts of these ideas for me. I’ve thought of writing a novel about a substitute teacher who is obsessed with HG Wells and is ultimately convinced via ‘vague yearnings for the actualization of fiction’ to kidnap Stephen Hawking [wheelchair/robot bro]. I might title it David Foster Wallace, smear it with gasoline-enriched feces and light it on Bret Easton Ellis’ porch, which is probably more representative of a porte de cochere. I like Bret Easton Ellis. It would just be an exemplary action of how serious I am about being a ‘post-ironic.’
Tao Lin, the ‘eventually likable enigma’
I feel like Justin Taylor might be somewhat of a ‘bigot bro,’ but anyone who can turn an informal internet presence into a seemingly tangible display of dissent has some skills. Anyone that can arise from anything ego-driven is probably worth listening to. I don’t know how much of an ‘ego’ Tao Lin is exuding from his ‘neutral facial expressions’ but his ‘spamminess’ is commendable [refer to this].
It reminds me of Kanye West. He’ll say he is a demigod, and because of it, I’ll listen to his new ‘conceptual’ album. Say what you will about ‘careerists’ and shameful/’shameless’ self-promotion, but it’s the only reason you came across all your ‘favorites’ in the first place, even if they are ‘indie.’ Apply that to the literary world and it’s an undeniable clusterfuck [refer to this].
It’s this ‘underground infamy’ that makes me think of Tao Lin as the modern Tristan Tzara, who ‘still considers himself very much likeable.’ I can’t help but think Richard Yates and its/his conch will begin to show the signs of ‘gravitational absorption,’ culminating into a ‘reprisal of categorized thought,’ instead of a ‘horde of Tao Lin clones.’ Just as with most people’s introduction to Tao Lin, it will take perseverance.
