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“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” – The Monster

August 30th is the birthday of one of the greatest horror fiction writers of all time, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley. I am a big fan of Frankenstein and I know that I am not alone. A simple look at pop culture will reveal Dr. Frankenstein and his Monster all over the place. The novel Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus, was written as part of a competition created by Mary, her husband Percy, Lord John Byron and John Polidori.

It is interesting to consider that a simple competition produced a novel which has permeated nearly every aspect of American culture.

As you may have heard, I—William Howard Taft—have returned to life after my century-long hibernation.

My goal: to run for president in this, the momentous year of 2012! (The details of my return and campaign have been recounted in the book Taft 2012. Or so I am told. I have yet to find the spare time to read it, although I must admit it is quite a handsome volume.) It is my honor and duty to be so considered for a second term, even though my status as an outlying independent candidate has relegated me to the depressing backwater of the mass media.

I was in the army for 8 years.

I put myself through sixteen weeks in Hell at the Infantry School in Georgia. I was eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of your average USB thumb drive in the swamps of Louisiana. I froze in the unimaginable cold in Germany, and I ruined my body as a Paratrooper.

And this was all outside of Iraq.

I’ve been shot, stabbed, and blown up. I’m not trying to get sympathy or praise, I assure you. The point I’m trying to make is that I sympathize with the protagonist of this book, because if I was willing to sacrifice so much of myself for a country who only gives their soldiers lip service, why, in what would no doubt be the worst and final event in human history, would I not want to continue on?

What would be so wrong by making sure that if we were all about to die, there would be just a tiny sliver of dignity left behind?

I would take to the streets, and defend the people as best as I could in the short time I’d have left. In a time like that, there would be crime on a scale we couldn’t even imagine. People would need protection. I thought, in Iraq, that I was going to die for my country.

God willing, I’m going to die an old man with my family there to send me off. But if this situation would come to pass, I think it would be good to go out doing something noble.

Josh Perez is a Graphic Designer from Austin Texas. He spent 8 years in the US Army, spending 39 months total in Iraq. He lives in Austin with his two sons and his dog Goldie. Photo via (http://bit.ly/TXo6HB) 

Eudora Welty. You’ll want to read her Collected Stories.

Utter the term “Southern Literature” and most people immediately imagine all those depressing Southern white dudes they were made to read in high school or college. William Faulkner? Yawn. Tennessee Williams? I can get drunk and feel lonely on my own, thanks.

But the literary scene of the American South, past and present, has more going for it than a few guys with bleak worldviews. Here’s a list of six unexpected (or at least, less expected) Southern reading recommendations. I suggest enjoying them when the summer heat is at its worst, for a real Southern experience no matter what region of country you’re currently in.

Photo by Dorkys @ Dry As Toast

Heading to the New York City International Gift Fair? We’ll be there, August 19th though August 22nd. Please stop by our booth (#7549!) where we’ll be showing off all of our classics and our exciting new books for Fall 2012!

All titles will be eligible for the show special; an additional 2% discount off the invoice’s retail value or an additional 30 days dating, (90 days EOM total).

So come stock up! Or at least swing by and say hello.

Quirk @ the New York City International Gift Fair
August 19th – 22nd
www.nyigf.com

The apocalypse isn’t exactly cocktail party banter.