Spencer Dew is one of the best the internet literary scene has to offer. He's been published in Juked, The 2nd Hand, and Thieves Jargon, among others. His book Songs of Insurgency just came out in 2008.

Everyday Yeah: Let’s do an interview?

Spencer Dew: I'd love to do an interview, absolutely…And thanks for the nice review.

So, how did Chicago become a literary hotbed? How did you get roped in to the whole thing?

Mark, Sorry this took me so long; I was out of town, reading in Louisville.

Chicago is Ben Hecht's city, Nelson Algren's, the city of Studs Terkel -- if you know Liz Armstrong's tongue-to-socket columns for the old Chicago Reader or Joe Meno's trick-with-lighter prose, you get a sense for a real literary lineage to this place. The slant of those diagonals through the urban grid, the mix of industry and the cosmopolitan, subterranean spider-holes like the Billy Goat, and the weird mythology of hard scrabble and hard luck -- there's a distinct flavor here in this beneficent dictatorship on the lake. It's also simply a good place to live, to get by, and that always makes a difference when it comes to artists making art. I'd say, too, that Chicago's core working-class ethos gives birth to writers who work like hell, who cook with five pots going -- novelists who are also critics (I'm thinking of the great Gillian Flynn) or who are also journalists, photographers, painters, philosophers (and I mean this in a credentialed sense, thinking of my friend and mentor Jeremy Biles) or performers (as far as "hotbed" goes, the best "scene" I've seen in town is the new "Quickies" reading series, at Innertown Pub, run by the impressive-as-hell duo of Mary Hamilton and Lindsay Hunter).

How'd I get roped into the "scene" here? Through Jeb Gleason-Allured and Todd Dills of THE2NDHAND, who invited me to represent their journal at the Museum of Contemporary Art's "Literary Gangs of Chicago" reading series, through the hustling, hyperkinetic Nick Ostdick of Ragad, who's had me out to read repeatedly, and through an invitation to do a reading for Jessa Crispin's top-notch "Bookslut Reading Series."

I should also wedge in a shout-out to the folks at Literago.org, an organization that's done a hell of a lot to suggest a "scene" or twenty at play in this city, plus raising the profile of literary events writ large.

No need to feel pressure to answer these questions. When you get to them you get to them.
I'm curious how the weekend in Louisville went. Best food you ate? Worst food? Creepy people you met traveling? Good conversations you had along the way? Unnecessary things you packed? How many times you changed your socks (I only ask this because I haven't changed my socks in three days and I'm starting to get worried because they don't smell)? Basically, I'm just curious to hear your views on Louisville.

There was a lot of bad food, to be honest. One very nice hotel bar. I changed socks daily, twice daily on the days I went running. I packed nothing unneccessary, though I brought along a copy of the Oxford American that contained a number of unneccessary pages. I attended a surprise birthday party for my mother, who does not live in Louisville. The last time I was in Louisville, my father was having sections of his spine fused together and metal bars implanted. Louisville is a pleasant town, and the staff at Carmichael's bookstore were extremely friendly and nice. I met up briefly with Louisville writer Jason Jordan, author of "Powering the Devil's Circus." There were lots of Hunter S Thompson bumperstickers for sale. Everyone seemed excited about Big Brown.

I was browsing some of your bios on various lit sites and came across this one at Pindeldyboz:
Spencer Dew lives in Chicago, where he studies rabbinic conceptions of language, text, and identity. He also works at the writing and assembling of novels.
Can you talk a little about your interest in studying rabbinic literature. Also, how's the novel assemblage going?

"The writing and assembling of novels"? That's a nice phrase.

And, yes, I'm interested in midrash, Talmud, in rabbinic interpretation and commentary in general, how such texts function, the seriousness and playfulness with which they treat their task. One figure I find fascinating, a Kabbalistic fellow, a mystic in the city of Safed, in the 15th century, Hayyim Vital, he's driven, in part -- and tortured by, really -- this concern, this anxiety, that maybe, perhaps, he's the messiah, or maybe he's here to immediately prepare the way for the messiah. I mean, this is a man of radical piety, living in a radically pious community, and the messianic expectation is there, is present, and he thinks, wow, this is really a consideration... So what does he do? I mean, he's in a situation where EVERYTHING could be significant, could SIGNIFY. So all of his dreams, right, and everything he sees and experiences during the day, and, ultimately, the dreams of OTHER people -- in his case, of gentiles, of Muslims, Christians, women, strangers -- all of these things need to be studied, interpreted, examined. He's worn out by it, obviously, it's a white-heat sort of existence. But fascinating as an example of what it means to take the act of reading utterly seriously, right? The Christian Church Fathers had a similar approach, the idea that God, as author of the world, left God's mark on everything, that a grub or a fallen leaf or whatnot could be read back as relating to its creation and Creator... This is a long way from what you asked me, I understand, but it's worth mentioning, this hyper-significance, the idea that everything can be approached as having a meaning, however inscrutable or covert... It's an idea I play with frequently in my fiction, I think. There's an awareness of mystery and awe and the sheer scope of things in such an attitude.

Spencer, I apologize it's taken me so long to get back to you. I've been away. Unfortunately it was only New Hampshire and not Louisiana. It was a barbeque not a book talk. Oh well.
Okay, sorry to get really off topic, but Indiana Jones opened this weekend and now you may not be the type to run to the theater on opening weekend, but your previous answer with all its religious talk vaguely reminded me of the first three Indiana Jones movies. So if you've seen it, what was your reaction to it?
If you haven't seen it then what was your favorite movie as a child and what movie had the greatest effect or influence on you?

I haven't seen it, no, though the earlier ones certainly had an effect on me, as a child, sure.

Yeah, I'm not quite sure what I was thinking with that question. It probably would have been best to ask about what books you've been reading lately (anything good?) or something like, when you finish a book do you ever have the desire to read it front to back again? Do you have any desire to read it at all (aside from book talks)? If you were in a band would you listen to your own band's music?

Well, I'm working on a couple of projects, criticism or something like it, on Adrian Tomine, whose work was hugely influential on me, an extraordinarily clever, really real writer, and also on Zora Neal Hurston, who is such an absolute powerhouse when it comes to voice, this ultra-confident, barbed and honey-dripping voice that saunters around proclaiming. She's got an essay, from 1928, "How it Feels to be Colored Me," which, among other things, has a description of jazz, of being at a jazz club, of responding, in this wildly hyperbolically yet viscerally accurate way… Well, she's a writer who, as she says rather dismissively of someone else, "knows her way among words." Tomine, of course, deals in situations, in subtleties; he's an artist who deals as much in the absence of words, in slant glances and slight wrinkles around the eyes, as he does in explicit statements. He can convey incredible tension, and the trajectory of it, the slide from banal domestic scene to relationship catastrophe, in a matter of, like, five panels, three inanimate objects, and a couple of interrupted statements.

As far as my work, it's written very much for performance, and I do, more or less, by and large, enjoy performing it, at least certain pieces, at certain times. I can't see myself sitting down and reading the book from start to finish, but I think listening to performances has its own value, just in terms of performing better, ironing out the kinks.

And I didn't mean to blow off your previous question, it's just that there's so much to say, really, about the representations of religion in those earlier movies, both of Judaism and Hinduism, and the use of the Nazis, etc. I wrote an essay a few years back about movies using Nazis, the risks of that, taking actual historical horror and making it into a kind of cartoon, a hyperbole. I'm a little divided on it, frankly. The second, not-so-good movie is an example of even more of an issue, I think, because it has these absurd images of "India" and "Indians" and this crazy take on Kali worship, the Thugee cult, all that. And I say this because, one, the logic is just a little weird – Nazis chasing down sacred relics makes sense for an adventure plot in a way that people worshipping a goddess that people always worship just doesn't – and because I know from my own experience, of being a kid from Kentucky who went to India for studies back in, what, 1995, that people would always ask, "Oh, did you eat snake surprise? Did you have monkey brains?" and that's just crazy, it makes no sense… It would have been such a better movie, and more in line with the other two, if it had been more serious in its premise. We go, you know, from the Holy Ark hunted by Nazis to the Cup of Christ, likewise with the Nazis all after it, and then in the middle there's this cheap pastiche cabaret show, but it's not as sophisticated as a cartoon, even. Bugs Bunny and the Thugee cult would have had better laughs, better chills, and a more frighteningly realistic treatment of the human slave diabolism thing.

I should also say, in terms of me thinking about these things, I had a roommate, in college, who was only – or was at least primarily – an archaeology student for that reason, because of those Indiana Jones films. He quoted them a lot, which maybe makes him sound silly, but the thing was he was a deadly serious archaeologist, spending all his summers covered in dirt over in Cyprus or some place, digging with a toothbrush or whatever they use. But then he would quote the movies all the time. He was a good man, and his situation always seemed to be to me so understandable, just a slight exaggeration of how it is for all of us, how these sort of cultural mythologies work.

I must say it is a treat to read through your answers. I'm not just saying this. It really is enjoyable to read what you write. I know it probably makes you blush and say "aww shucks," but after seeing a few of the above responses I'm starting to believe you've got that knack to take just about any subject and make it interesting. I'm almost tempted to throw out various random objects and ideas just to hear your thoughts on them. Okay I will, but feel free to pass on the bait: snack packs, Richard Wright, the fact that if you google 'giraffe' the first thing that pops up is an image of two giraffes humping, and Diane Lane.

Mostly though I'm interested at the timetable for these various projects you mentioned. I know it can kind of be a cruel thing to ask a writer what he's working on and then ask when his next book is coming out (especially when he just put one out), but it's always nice to have a general idea. And hopefully you're not the type to have five year dry spells in between works, but if you are then at least I'll be able to brace myself somewhat.

"Amorous giraffes," the caption says. That's likely inaccurate use of language. Speculative, at least, imposing whatever specifically human thing "amorous" means. I'll pass on Richard Wright and Diane Lane, though I will reference "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains," a movie worth seeing. One thing I'm working with, an image or factoid floating around, is how there are these new masses mid-Pacific, archipelagos of plastic trash, and how these new detritus islands are altering ecosystems, becoming nesting sites for birds, shark grounds, etc. I mean, there's your snack packs, no?

I'm working on a book, yes, a novel-in-stories, about a slew of things, and I'm working on nonfiction projects, mainly this treatment of Kathy Acker's novels, a reading of what I see as a pedagogical mode within her texts, teaching her readers how to read, how reading and writing relate to the larger revolutionary political struggle she wants us to undertake, bringing about new human relations, a better world, etc. But, yes, I hope I don't have a five-year dry spell, either.

Switching gears a little, I'm curious about your thoughts on myspace. It seems you're reluctant to have a page, but probably feel forced to do the whole social networking thing. Do you have any guilty pleasures that you'd care to share? Also, on a similar note how much time a week would you say you devote to your internet persona?

Well, sure, reluctant. I devote about probably ten minutes a month to my scabby MySpace page, which pretty much just links to my real website, and my sparse Facebook page, the difference being that my Facebook "friends" are people I actually know and my MySpace "friends" are dead writers or people who self identify as vampires. I think there are contexts in which social networking sites probably work wonders, but I think MySpace is pretty ghetto and much of Facebook is consumed with cutsie pet eggs and quiz games. So, neither is a place for me, though obviously there is an impressive potential to spread the word about your book or your band or your cd, which is why I opened such pages in the first place.

As you probably know the cutsie pet eggs and quiz games of facebook have taken over academia for the most part. The landscape of our institutions seem to have drastically changed in the last ten years. Everyone has cell phones that chat, text, and take pictures. Contact is easier. Hooking up seems easier. You graduated in the late 90's when probably everyone still had phone lines in their dorm rooms. Did you have a specific routine for hooking up? Actually, I now realize this is kind of a stupid question. Not much has probably changed when you really think about it. Alcohol is still the number one motivator for sexual exchanges.
Did you have an email address when you went to college?

I was in undergrad for three years, the middle year of which, '95/'96, I was in India. When I came back to the states, there were ads on television with web addresses. I'm not sure that I ever used either the internet or email before college, but, yes, had an address by my freshman year, and was introduced to not only the idea of internet porn but, specifically, animated porn involving bestiality, rape, and extreme forms of violence, which I mention because the capacity of this technology to convey, propagate, and shape specific fantasies and kinds of thinking is of interest to me -- and plays a role in my book, specifically the story "After Art School," which began as an essay on disturbing visual subtexts in internet porn, on the idea of doing actual close reading of these images, which reveals not only cultural information about the audience, their demands, but also the means of production, which, when it comes to porn, is frightening. To return to your question, in college there was also some sort of technology by which people could do the equivalent of instant messaging, across campus, each dorm having a server, each machine existing as an alias which could be changed at random. I could probably say more about that, the sort of proto-technology of it, the risks and masquerades, or early IRC systems, etc. The changes brought about by what Kathy Acker called, long ago, "the Net Age" are massive. I think, for instance, of how hard it was to obtain information or, specifically, certain books, or even the knowledge that certain books existed, when I grew up, in small town Kentucky. At the same time, "the Net Age" allows us to easily access subcultures, practices, predilections that otherwise most people would never encounter (insert your own extremely elaborate perversity, for instance, but also insert anything that, before, you had to KNOW someone in order to obtain, and had to know ABOUT in order to want to obtain it). I have some worries about this, or, specifically, about some economies of abuse that come along with it. I think it's great that there are e-zines and on-line retailers, for a variety of reasons, but I think the move toward "amateur" pornography has some extremely disturbing undercurrents to it, as does, I'm afraid, the general move toward hyper-revelation and documentation. It's only a few clicks on Flickr till you find some "candid" images that are profoundly creepy, and, of course, MySpace and etc are petri dishes for similar stuff. I'm working on pieces dealing with some of these issues, and I think the real riddle, in terms of policy, is how to draw any kind of legal limit. Can I post pictures of my neighbor, and if not, why not, and if so, is there any check on the comments I'm allowed to post, etc., etc. I don't relish the idea that crimes will literally be inspired and facilitated by new technology. And one reason I don't relish it is because I don't want such things to happen, but another reason I don't relish it is because I fear that any functional legal restrictions will need to be overly wide in scope. This maybe has gone afield from your question about email addresses. I'm also, of late, increasingly concerned about the world as at once post-national and, well, NOT: the United States is building border fences patrolled by, among other things, drone planes. "Immigration" is a hot button issue, with people calling -- fairly rabidly -- for restrictions, for closure of borders. But at the same time, borders are, in so many ways, obsolete. I'm trying to learn more about immigration law. I wish there were easier paths for people, especially folks already here illegally, as I am friends with many folks in that situation, all of them with their own complicated and unique, tangled reasons for ending up where they are now. Anyway, this is too long an answer. The contemplation of new communication technology just seems like a trap door into ALL of these issues, though. The world is shrinking, and that means the distance between decent citizens, sheriffs, and perverts is shrinking, too. As the world shrinks, we can feel BOTH parties breath down our necks, you know? The police and the criminals.

That was an amazing answer. It's had me thinking the last day or so. Not so much focused on the ideas you brought up, but they've somewhat become a constant in the back of my head. I mean I've always kind of thought these types of things, but you stated it clearly. And with that I think here is a good place to end the interview. If there's anything you want to add feel free, otherwise thank you very much for your time. I think there was some really good stuff in here. Thanks again.

Hey, that was really a pleasure. It was very nice talking with you, and I'd love to do so again. I'm glad you like the book, too. Take care.