Montreal’s Zsolt Alapi is not your average looking literary shit-disturber. A fifty-something English teacher at a respected Montreal college by day, Alapi might not look the part but, then again, what the hell does "the part" look like? 

Literary bad-asses come in all shapes, sizes, persuasions and colours. Their work is the true measure of their mettle and Alapi has mettle in abundance. He’s an accomplished fiction writer, editor and – most recently – small press publisher.

In 2007 Alapi launched his new small press Siren Song Publishing with the release of Writing at the Edge, a scintillating anthology of short fiction. The book is the perfect introduction to some of the most vital and vitriolic anti-literary voices raging in Canada and abroad. Bigger-name international writers such as Dan Fante, Laura Hird, Tony O’Neill and Mark SaFranko are among the contributors. But Canucks are also well represented by the likes of Bill Brown, Harold Hoefle, Christina Decarie and TDR’s Michael Bryson. 

The anthology is not a one-off. Alapi has plans to keep his new small press chugging along, providing exposure to Canadian and international lit that takes chances, unsettles and mucks it up in the corners.

Matthew Firth spoke to Alapi about Writing at the Edge and Siren Song Publishing (April 2008).

*

MF: What links the writers in the anthology Writing at the Edge?

ZA: Well, many things. Authenticity, grit, and the courage to tackle some "taboo" subjects, primarily. Above all, though, I was taken by the fact that each writer had a distinct and unique "voice," often far from the established norms of conventional fiction. A common link is that many of the writers represented here also appeared in the same magazines and on-line ‘zines like Scottish writer Laura Hird’s "Showcase," Lee Rourke’s Scarecrow and Canada’s own Front&Centre. Interestingly, a reviewer who writes a blog for The Guardian out of the UK labelled many of the writers represented in Writing at the Edge as part of the "new underground."

MF: Is there a community or movement of this sort of writing? If so, how tight is it, how does it operate?

ZA: I’m not sure there is much of a commonality or specific "movement" as such, aside from the fact that many of these writers get their work out through independent publishers and small presses. Take, for example, Mark SaFranko, a very fine American writer who has published over 50 short stories and four novels, the last two of which appeared through Murder Slim Press, a small press out of Norfolk in the UK. SaFranko is a major writer, though his work is barely acknowledged in his own country. He and others, if they form a "movement" only do so because they are promoted by some of the younger writers who are into alternative publishing. I’m thinking of Heidi James out of London, whose Social Disease Press has published both Tony O’Neill and Lee Rourke, both writers represented in my anthology. However, we often coin labels historically. Long before there was a "Lost Generation," Hemingway, Faulkner, and others wrote in exile in Europe, unaware that they were about to be labelled as a literary movement by the academic establishment. Even the "Beat Generation" is a contrived title for a group of writers that shared very little intellectually and stylistically. So, if there is a "movement" happening, perhaps it is more articulated nowadays simple by virtue of the fact that the Internet makes access to these writers immediately possible.

MF: The anthology kicks off with three big names: Dan Fante, Laura Hird and Tony O’Neill. Are these writers the leaders of this new breed of hard-assed literature? If so, how/why?

ZA: Well, Dan Fante has been called the "godfather" of this group and I would say that many of the writers represented in my book owe a huge debt to him for many reasons. Most importantly, Fante has spent years struggling as a writer and has refused to compromise. As such, he is an inspiration for many of us. I think, though, this "new breed" of writers (including Dan) come from a long tradition of "renegades" beginning with D.H. Lawrence and continuing on to Henry Miller, William Burroughs, Hubert Selby Jr. and Bukowski. Most prominent as an influence is Bukowski. I think he changed the nature of short fiction particularly and his autobiographical prose has opened up the possibility for many emerging writers to present fiction that is both "authentic" in sensibility and in terms of non-traditional subject matter. I would say that Fante is closest to Bukowski in this respect, while Tony O’Neill owes more of a debt to Burroughs and Selby. Laura Hird, on the other hand, is very different in how she writes from multiple perspectives, though her writing may be classified as "gritty realism," albeit of the Scottish variety.

MF: Does salty, irreverent, in-yer-face fiction matter? Why?

ZA: Yes, for many reasons. It is to remind readers that writing, if it is to really matter, must not just be a construct of the mind and the intellect, but must also represent the blood, guts, and suffering of our collective humanity. In terms of being "in yer face," good writing has always challenged the establishment and the values that we hold to be so sacrosanct. Often, people complain that this kind of writing is too sexual, or too much about drugs, drinking, or failed relationships, yet what they fail to realize is that there is a truth in the lives of those who are often desperate and at the brink. Perhaps this kind of writing reminds us that nothing matters, including our pretensions and social conventions and mores, while at the same time that everything matters. And that everything is all that makes us so gloriously human despite our faults and most perverse and secret desires.

MF: You teach English at a college in Quebec. How do your relatively young and impressionable students react when you teach this brand of edgy fiction? Do they dig it? Do they recoil? Are they unimpressed, etc?

ZA: They love it and they can’t wait to read more. Don’t forget: these are students who have had "literature" force-fed to them throughout high school, where their teachers prescribed what was good and relevant writing. Furthermore, they were told how to interpret literature and even how to react to it. Suddenly, they are confronted with a very different type of writing: fiction that is edgy, provocative, and, ultimately, a truer reflection of their lives and sensibility. There is no way to approach this writing through traditional analysis; rather, they are asked to react almost viscerally to it. And, react they do. Even the students who may be offended by the subject matter admit that this type of edgy fiction has made them feel, and, after all, isn’t this what someone setting out to write a story or a book wants to have the reader do? I have to say that Writing at the Edge was, to a great extent, inspired by my students. I wanted to introduce them to writers who meant something to me in my own life and I think that many of these writers have profoundly affected their own view of the world, all in an ultimately positive way since it left them shocked, surprised, astonished – they experienced a bit of life through these writers.

MF: What sort of influence do you think edgy writing has on young/aspiring writers?

ZA: I think the most positive influence would be the recognition that this type of writing demands a great deal of courage and commitment. After all, it is somewhat dangerous to put yourself completely out there, simply in terms of tackling subjects that are often thought of as taboo or "improper". There is a passage in D.H. Lawrence where the main character, a product of a rather Puritan society, has spent an entire night making passionate love and committing the act of adulatory. Lawrence writes that instead of feeling shame, the shame died. Edgy writing is like that: the possibility that anything can be the subject matter of what has been traditionally labelled as literature. This can be very liberating for a young writer. Having said this, it can also be addictive and even counterproductive. Not every writer is a Tony O’Neill with the wealth of experience to draw from (in his case, drug addiction). Glorifying the "edgy" parts of experience is also not the answer. Ultimately, as a writer, one must write about what one knows and realize that all experiences may be profound and have an emotional resonance, if authentically rendered. So, the trick is not to be a Bukowski, a Fante, or a Burroughs, but to put down the words in such a way that they become a form of revelation and discovery.

MF: Generally, what’s the reaction been to Writing at the Edge (from critics, work colleagues, writers, etc.)?

ZA: Generally positive, though critics have largely shunned it, with the exception of one mixed review in Canada and a very positive review in the UK. The reactions that have meant the most to me are from the writers I published and from the readers, many of whom are my students. I am very grateful for the confidence that the writers included in the anthology showed in my judgement in putting together this book. To some extent, we write for each others’ ear. The most enthusiastic have been my students who rave about the book, as well as other readers from some very curious parts of the globe who have obtained a copy and who appreciate what I have done. This book was done as a labour of love and in that sense it has served its purpose. As for my work colleagues, the younger ones mostly loved it but some others who bought a copy now avoid me in the hallway. Fuck them.

MF: You’ve taken the leap into small press publishing, a notoriously precarious venture in Canada. And you’ve kicked it off with Writing at the Edge. Why this bold approach?

ZA: I guess I had the luxury of knowing that this was not about financial profit, so I could publish what I wanted with no restrictions. I put aside some paycheques from part-time teaching to make this venture possible, so if it were to be a financial bust, I would not have to mortgage my home. I had wanted to do such a book for a long time, and, in fact, had proposed it to several Canadian small publishers, a few of whom seemed actually interested. However, after the usual year or more of waiting with no firm commitment, and after being initially disappointed in their reception of my idea, I decided to do it on my own. In retrospect, this was the best move I could have possibly made, since I had no one to answer to but the writers who had placed their trust in me. My mission statement for Siren Song Publishing is that we publish writing that is authentic and that makes no compromises. I stuck to this and will do so all the way to the poorhouse.

MF: What are the logistics of setting up a small press like Siren Song Publishing – simple, convoluted, etc.?

ZA: It is actually simpler than one would think, though there is a lot of red tape involved in terms of registering an English company in a French province, getting the ISBN, dealing with a printer and the cover designer, proofing the final copy, and, finally, distributing the book. What makes it most difficult is doing it entirely on my own. The minutiae like mailing out copies, visiting bookstores, all while working on future projects, holding down a full time job (and a part time one), and trying to keep a family life intact is sometimes taxing. However, I did learn a tremendous amount, so that the next book will be significantly easier.

MF: What are the long-term plans for SSP? What books are up next?

ZA: I have great visions and plans for SSP, but I am trying to go one book at a time without projecting into a very cloudy future. After all, I had edited a small magazine some years ago that went belly up financially, so I know the dangers. However, the thrill of doing it is what drives me. As for projects, I have a second book that is almost finished, and the projected date is June 2008. It is a collection of fiction by writers in the CEGEP system (the college system in Quebec). There is a tremendous amount of talent out there, and I have gathered 17 of what I think are the best stories among writers who are also teachers. The plan is to integrate this text into several colleges, all the while having the actual writers read their work to students who will have had the chance to read their offerings. So far, there has been a fair measure of enthusiasm for this project in Montreal and the surrounding areas. While this book will not be as "edgy" as the first, it still has a great deal of wonderful content and I stand by this in terms of my publishing philosophy. In terms of "edgier" material, I am hoping to do a collection of stories by Ottawa writer Bill Brown in 2009. Other "dream" projects would be a collection of essays, interviews, and articles by and about four of my favourite writers: Dan Fante, Laura Hird, Tony O’Neill, and Matthew Firth. My goal is to promote their work in my own small way.

MF: How will you make sure SSP endures? A lot of presses rise and fall pretty quickly. What’s your plan to stick around?

ZA: I’m hoping to get some Canada Council funding after the second book, though that may be a long shot. However, I have an understanding partner who has agreed that I use my own money from outside, extra earnings to keep the company afloat. Since profit is not the main consideration, I have very little to lose. Happily, my son, who has also started a literary venture of his own, said that he will want to continue SSP after my inevitable and untimely demise.

MF: Apart from Writing at the Edge, where should readers look to discover provocative styles of fiction?

ZA: Let’s start with Canada. Vancouver’s Anvil Press lays it all on the line and has recently put out Matthew Firth’s Suburban Pornography, as provocative and interesting a book as you can read, and they have also put out Sal Difalco’s Black Rabbit. Both of these writers push the envelope both in terms of style and content. Also, Firth’s own publishing venture, Black Bile Press and his magazine, Front&Centre feature the best of the best of writers both home grown and from abroad. In England, I recommend Murder Slim Press and Social Disease Press, and in the U.S. there is Burning Shore Press, which published a recent collection of Tony O’Neill’s poetry, and Contemporary Press out of NYC. Online, I would recommend Laura Hird’s "Showcase" (www.laurahird.com) and Lee Rourke’s "Scarecrow" (www.hodmandod@blogspot.com) . There are, of course, countless others, but these are the most edgy.

MF: Have you come across any new bold voices since Writing at the Edge came out? If so, who? And any plans for a sequel?

ZA: I recently discovered the wonderful prose of Virginia Ashberry, whose chapbook was recently put out by Black Bile Press. Also excellent Canadian voices are Len Gasparini, Christina Decarie, Harold Hoefle and Bill Brown. I’m a huge fan of Heidi James over in the UK, and Rob Woodard from California is a fine poet and an interesting novelist, not to mention a daring publisher. Yes, I would love to do a sequel to Writing at the Edge. It has crossed my mind to try to do an anthology with Laura Hird called The Best of "Showcase," a collection of the best prose writers that have appeared on Laura site, selected by the two of us. She and I share similar tastes in writing. In fact, she claims that we were both Romantic poets in a former life.

MF: Finally, you’re a fiction writer yourself. How do your other literary pursuits (e.g., publishing, teaching) affect your writing? Do they make it harder for you to find time and energy to write or do they fuel your writing?  

ZA: Teaching helped the editing process in terms of having a ready audience upon whom I could test out the "product," as it were. It does, however, seriously eat into writing time. Writing is truly the "sullen" or solitary art, so there is never enough time to do it thoroughly and properly. Life gets in the way too often, though maybe it should be the other way around. While I enjoy working and teaching, I also enjoy being what I call "creatively slothful". This involves having no plans, no commitments, and no deadlines: sort of a time to dream and become more human. Maybe one day, but in the meantime, one has to learn to juggle many projects, hoping that none of them breaks in the process.