Posts Tagged ‘Geoffrey Gatza’

BlazeVOX will not close amid criticism

Monday, September 5th, 2011

A day after announcing that BlazeVOX Books would close at the end of the year, founder Geoffrey Gatza has announced that the press will remain open and will be more transparent about its business model. The announcement follows recent criticism of a BlazeVOX editorial process that involves asking poets to help fund the publication of their books once their manuscripts have been “accepted.”

“I am very disappointed in how things have turned out. I am very sorry for the troubles this has caused and we will close down the press,” Gatza stated in a blog post Sunday. “It has been a good run but with the turning tide against us, and with no money coming in, what else is there to do, but stop.”

But as the issue played out, Gatza seemed to receive as much support as he did criticism, and apparently changed his mind.

“I have learned from this discussion and will strive to be ever more effectively transparent about publication arrangements,” he stated Monday. “I want [to] make a statement after the fact. BlazeVOX is not closing its doors.”

It is not unheard of for a press to ask its writers to help with financing. For example, Off the Grid Press in Somerville, MA used to follow a “co-op model” that asked accepted poets to help fund production costs. Off the Grid outlined this model in its submission guidelines, and abandoned it upon becoming a non-profit organization.

The chief complaint against BlazeVOX is that it was not up front about what would be expected of poets whose work was accepted. The chief complainant, Brett Ortler, published a lengthy critique of Gatza and BlazeVOX on Saturday, September 3. According to an e-mail exchange that Ortler published on thebarking.com, Gatza accepted Ortler’s manuscript, but with conditions:

In the spirit of cooperation, we are asking you to help fund the production of your book. We have done this for the past two years and it seems to be working out very positively. Over $2000 goes into the production of a book with BlazeVOX and we are hoping you will donate $250 to the press to help meet the costs of our budgeted year. To briefly explain, we just lost another major donor this year and I want to publish books, but it takes some money to do so.

In the exchange, Gatza said that he asked 30 writers to contribute with the hope that at least 15 would do so. Ortler said that Gatza’s letter to him “implied that not all of the authors had to pay for their work,” suggesting a hierarchy among accepted manuscripts.

Gatza ultimately indicated he would not fund the book’s publication without the donation. Ortler said that if he had known about the donation, he would not have submitted in the first place. He also said that Gatza kept giving him different numbers with regard to how many submissions he had received.

“If a monetary contribution is required for publication, it’s not a donation, it’s a payment,” he said.

In his original farewell address on the BlazeVOX blog, Gatza stated, “Many have found our arrangement to co-operative in spirit and a bold and decisive measure in these tough financial times, thus why I chose to do this…It is very hard to run this press and this method gathered up only a very small amount to help our production costs.”

BlazeVOX has published many well-received books over the years, including Amy King’s Slaves to Do These Things and I’m the Man Who Loves You, Nate Pritts’s Big Bright Sun and Sensational Spectacular, Chad Sweeney’s An Architecture, Michael Kelleher’s Human Scale, and more. (Read Coldfront reviews of BlazeVOX titles here.)

Ortler was clear that his complaint was against Gatza’s policies, not against the poetry he publishes.

“To be sure, BlazeVOX’s editor, Geoffrey Gatza, publishes some fine poetry, including work by Tom Holmes and Stacia Fleegal, both writers whom I admire,” he stated. “The books are absolutely beautiful. It’s quite clear he knows what he’s doing. And I really wanted my book to be issued by BlazeVOX.”

In a later post, Ortler said he does not want the press to close over the issue.

“I don’t want Blazevox to go under, as this is the worst possible outcome,” he said.

The issue has elicited a variety of responses from poets and publishers. In numerous blog, Twitter and Facebook feeds, some have rushed to Gatza’s defense, while others have heavily criticized the lack of transparency in Gatza’s policy.

In a comment on Ortler’s blog post, Foetry founder Alan Cordle states, “I’m interested to see if Gatza really did limit his solicitation to 30 people. I will keep a count and let everyone know.”

Christopher Higgs at HTMLGiant suggests the process might mean BlazeVOX should be labeled a “vanity press,” a term for print-on-demand companies like Lulu, where anyone can pay to have their manuscript duplicated in book form.

“I admit that BlazeVOX has published a few books I’ve loved (and written about or run promos for here), but this sort of pay-to-publish policy seriously threatens to diminish the press’s legitimacy in my eyes,” he says.

Christopher Janke is among those defending Gatza. In an open letter published on the Slope Editions blog, Janke states, “I have no idea where the money ‘should’ come from for obscure important work. And for those who complain about your method, I wonder what method they prefer. Tax-supported grant-based publishers (where politics often encroaches), private donors (where funding and editorial influence can be erratic or worse), contest-supported presses (like Slope Editions, where contest fees go towards printing costs), big houses (where poetry is often only by the already famous and seems preferable if by the already dead).”

Janke continues, “The fact is, Blazevox provides editorial insight. That already is different than a poet on the street selling his or her xeroxed tome. That said, I’ve loved a xeroxed poem for a dollar. Vanity? Solomon had an opinion on vanity that seems to suit many pursuits; artistic endeavors easily fit the bill.”

Shanna Compton also defends Gatza on her blog, and says that the term “vanity press” is something of a slur.

“A neutral and more accurate term than ‘vanity press’ would be ‘subsidy press,’” she says. “But BlazeVOX is neither.”

On Monday, Gatza offered a lengthy explanation of his editorial process at the BlazeVOX blog, and stated that he has “not gained wealth from this method of asking for donations.”

“I am not a teacher or associated with any college or university,” he said. “It is just us and a love of strange poetry that keeps me going.”

–John Deming

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Black Diamond Golden Boy Takes Bull By Horns

Sunday, September 23rd, 2007

by Geoffrey Gatza
BlazeVOX [books] 2006
Reviewed by Mike McDonough

2

Never Can Tell

gatza coverI wanted to like this book. The set up is a recasting of Ezra Pound as Merlin enacting some kind of ritual self-sacrifice, killed by the irrelevance of his own magical poetic myths, and it contains interesting quotes from Buddha, Churchill and William Carlos Williams. The idea became less and less coherent as I read. In this book we do not care about Pound, Merlin, or the knights of the Round Table, or wonder at how magic persists without them. In the first section, there is much talk about food and the creativity of chefs, and if I had to choose, I’d rather eat than read poetry, but somehow with all this talk of food, I am never made hungry. It is one thing to try to cure yourself by glut, as was done so gamely in Fast Food Nation, but it is entirely another if you don’t like the taste of McDonald’s food in the first place. I am all for a reconsideration of our pieties, but this overwritten mess makes no sense.

Occasionally post-avant statements surface, purporting to be clear, such as “One cannot build a better poem without understanding / what is wrong with the present one,” and “literary anarchy seeks to unleash authority from authorship.” Do we need 160 unnumbered pages of bad poetry to prove it? Then a section on poetical anarchism is crossed out. That saves me from having to explain the idea. The evidence of the book suggests that a persistently incorrect use of the possessive apostrophe is involved, along with deliberately flaunting most of the homophones cited by grammarians.

If anyone is curious about anarchy in poetry, let them read the work of John Cage (and also Jackson MacLow). Anarchy does not involve suicide by glut, revolution by petty annoyance, pseudoliterary emetics or pretentious poses, whether ironic or not. It challenges us with unreadability, and the productive uses of boredom, but doesn’t need stagey histrionics. Though paradoxical, its emotional center is quite clear. It does involve saying a lot by staying silent, and saying little by talking constantly, but it also acknowledges at all points that there is no beginning and no end, and we can come and go as we like. It runs Thoreau through a blender, ignoring his embeddedness in the world of his time, while expanding his libertarian streak. Through the magic of clear thinking and the abiding discipline of silence, what is simple stays simple and what is complex becomes simple by becoming somehow different. It is also peace-loving, funny and oddly touching, whereas Gatza’s work tries to be but is not. Gatza’s idea of silence is the enforced crossing out of text, rather than a telling omission. His work tends to be busy and loud. Perhaps Gatza’s work is symptomatic of the mess we are in. I persist in the idea that if I am asked for bread I try not to give you a stone. Or maybe I sculpt a loaf of bread out of the stone, or plant a field of wheat. I proceed by offering a positive direction rather than proving how bad your current one is. The empty blab of the world tends to take care of itself. Even Zen Koans, so aggressive in their frustration of analysis have a bracingly spare humanity to them, and a subversive and sly sense of humor. Gatza’s work has none of these qualities. There is humor in the book, but it is not very sly. He persists in being a one man band playing on and on, interrupting himself, then playing the same thing in reverse, until you beg him to stop.

There is no idea that Gatza cannot talk to death. A potentially interesting section on Edward Hicks’ beloved proto-Hallmark Peacable Kingdom paintings is drained of its insouciance by the use of too many words. Many of the poems here seek simplicity but never stay quiet long enough to actually listen to the silence that persists. There is no easy conversational tone that cannot be rendered somehow strained, no tragic figure that Gatza cannot talk into irrelevance. The poem dedicated to Woody Guthrie does not mention music. Even the poem about Andy Dick manages to contain nothing engaging, even in the expected pop culture junkie sense, except the photo of Andy Dick, while somehow avoiding any mention of News Radio, acting, TV, or comedy. Of course, addictions such as Andy’s have a pointlessness to them that is not very appealing. If there is an emotional core to his work, it is probably in the poem “to be:”

I don’t know what to believe really.
I know how I feel and that’s one thing
and I know for a fact that what I believe
to be true and what is true cannot be

so what the fuck. I hate
well not really hate
so much as I am angered
by the calumny, but this

I mean fuck

Which is the funniest and most directly engaging poem by far, trust me, and I haven’t even read the whole book. I’m doing you a favor. This book is too pretentious to be seriously challenging, consistently funny, trashy bad or camp, if it’s trying for that. It’s often hard to tell. The last quarter of the book is taken up by “So This is What Happiness Is, (a poem marketed as a play)”, a burlesque of Arthurian characters and Jesus Christ, another potentially interesting idea that turns out to be curiously overstuffed, unfunny and pointless. Dada at its worst was more innovative, and better at offending artistic taste. This book vastly increased my respect for Duchamp’s urinal. If I’ve missed the point I don’t want to get it. The pictures and graphics, often busy and irrelevantly captioned, are a positive relief from the generally numbing text, and have increased my rating of the book by one-half star. Calgon, take me away!

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