Some of you are aware that I am also a small press publisher and editor. In l994 I started Cross+Roads Press, for many of the same reasons other writers have done so in the past. Not the least of which involves a faith in the written word and the desire to lend a hand to both new and obscure writers.
There’s an unspoken brother and sisterhood of literary writers out there, all over the country. And among us there’s a need for some who have managed to succeed and survive on our own terms, to acknowledge those small press publishers (usually accomplished writers themselves) who were there when we needed them. Among them, for me, are writers/publishers such as David Pichaske (Ellis Press); Curt Johnson (december press); and Rick Meade (Story Press). Without this kind of literary tradition, vision, and, yes ‘love’, the American literary landscape would be a lot sadder, less inspiring.
I think of the small press (and the little magazine), as ‘outsider’ writing. Not the flashy stuff available everywhere, driven by big-time marketing forces with plenty of money to spread the word out there in all the right places. Instead it’s the small jazz joint tucked in some forgotten and forlorn part of the city, where you know you have to go to hear the real thing. The small comedy club hidden amongst an urban renewal project. Folksingers in an old barn. Three actors doing an original play in someone’s living room or basement. An artist’s first exhibit of ten paintings in a small coffeehouse on the outskirts of town. That’s where stuff begins. Happens.
The first chapbook I published (most of the groundwork done-and done still-in this crammed chicken coop where I have been writing since l976) was a superb collection of poetry, AN EVENING ON MILDRED STREET, by Mariann Ritzer, that sold out (300 copies) within weeks. It was the writer’s first book. Which was a big part of my reason for starting the press: to help good writers with some track record of publication, get their first book in print. I had known the writer and her work for sometime. I was (and remain) more than familiar with the difficulty of a new writer starting off down the difficult, often self-defeating path of publication. In Mariann’s case (once a student of mine at The Clearing) I was frustrated for her because I knew how good she was and how difficult it was to find a press to publish her first collection. There just were not (never are) enough good small publishers. “If I ever start a small press,” I told her, “yours will be the first book I publish.”
This is the 10th anniversary of Cross+Roads Press. Since AN EVENING ON MILDRED STREET, I have published 21 books to date, with others in various stages of production, taking me well into 2005. Each of the books is unique. All of them valuable in content and style to readers and writers alike, and to my mind (knowing and appreciating the dedication and history of small press publications), highly collectible. Worth more than their initial cover price-usually $6 for chapbooks, $10 for perfect-bound. (Current prices for out-of-print CR+P books begin at $25. Editions are limited to either 300 or 500 copies. All first editions. I do no reprints.)
But this kind of publishing is about more than financial ‘investment.” It’s an intellectual and cultural investment in serious writers in search of an appreciative audience. That’s what my press is all about: a personal investment of time and money (pretty much a break-even or, more often than not, losing game) to make a small stand, in my Wisconsin neck of the woods and say: Here, read this. Someone you have probably never heard of. It’s good for the soul. Writers and writing matter. There’s more to literature than manufactured bestsellers.
For more on all this, please open the link on my website to “Publications” and scroll down to Cross+Roads Press. In addition to an entire list of chapbooks I’ve published to date, you will find an interview with the publisher, giving more detailed information as to the history and nature of the press. E-mail me [Contact link] if you are interested in ordering something, would like to be included on my mailing list for future books, or would like more information. (NOTE: But don’t send me any manuscripts. My publication policy is explained in the interview.)
I can’t say enough about the last two books issued by the press: Alice D’Alessio’s, A BLESSING OF TREES (CR+P #21) and Don Olsen’s, THE BUTTERFLY SLEEPS ON THE TEMPLE BELL. (CR+P #20). Both perfect bound and both quality productions, inside and out--cover art, illustrations, high-grade paper. Each priced at only $10 plus $1.50 postage.
Feedback on Alice D’Alessio’s book has been very positive, everything from her sheer artistry in writing poetry to the visual impact of the book itself: “This is one of the most beautiful books I have ever seen,” the oft-quoted remark. A number of folks who have ordered additional copies have also commented on the book’s appeal to all nature lovers, as well as “the perfect gift.”
Wisconsin poet, Ron Wallace (Felix Pollak Professor of Poetry at UW-Madison) captures the essence of A BLESSING OF TREES: “In the mode of Loren Eisely, Wendell Berry, and Annie Dillard, Alice D’Alessio embraces the land ethic, the environmental stewardship, that requires such difficult decisions of anyone who would live in harmony with the natural world. Spare, eloquent, clear-eyed, and affirmative, these wonderful poems, like the trees they celebrate, “steep [themselves] in color. in shades and tones and densities of hue.” At their heart lie the prayer and lamentation, the praise and benediction, the blessing and absolution that keep us truly human.”
Enter - the Forest
Find the path where rain drips from beechlings brightening their greenest green trembling the twisted ties of yellow moccasin flowers.
Pay homage to cedars robed in lace, their spongy carpet a velvet dusk, breathe their incense; lay hands on ironwood and linden, each with its secrets. Come with me.
I will show you the way. Here is the temple we study the Druid fathers. learn to grow old proudly, chant the psalm of the hemlock. We will hold white limestone in our hands, recite the only prayers we know.
Don Olsen’s book, A BUTTERFLY SLEEPS ON THE TEMPLE BELL,is something else entirely. I could write a short novel on the production of this book alone. The agony and the ecstasy. Dealing with a wonderful writer/publisher who was dying and would not live to see his small masterpiece in print. A perfectionist. A writer/poet/printer who worshipped the way words were printed on paper…the particular type-font, the point, the spacing, the printed page as art. These are rare individuals. And anything they put down of themselves in print needs to be honored, celebrated, shared amongst as many people as possible. Which is, of course, impossible, given the fact I am a small press and there are only 500 copies of his book in print. (At this point--less than 200 remain.)
His book is subtitled: “A Reminiscence on the Ox Head Press, l966-200 by Don Olsen, Printer & Proprietor.” Which may seem a little less that fascinating at first glance, but under that he has further stated (all of this on the front cover):
Reflections on How and Why he Founded the Press, Together with some Thoughts on “Fine Printing” & Typographic Design, along with a Few Observations on the Failure of the Press to Bear Witness to the Times, & Remarks on How its Demise Begins with Anguish & Grief that Rise from the Bewildering Complexities of a Suicide & other Ensuing Losses.
And then you open the book, and for the next 124 pages, he takes you through a time, a mind, a history of one man’s art, a quarrel with the political world, a love of laughter, life and language…breathtaking, to say the least. This may be `the’ most original book I have ever published.(next to artist Bill Stipe’s EYE DEA). I’ve reread it myself, four or five times.
Here’s an excerpt from one of Don’s essays called “The Art of Illusion II”:
“A few months ago I heard this phrase on a television show: ‘…The generosity of our memories.’ That phrase brought to mind a journal I started when I began college. A ‘thought book” is more what I intended. Here is my first entry in the thoughtbook:
“Memory lies”
“That was the end of it. It was the first and only entry. I must have lost interest in writing down my thoughts. I don’t remember what I had in mind with that entry. I think the statement is a good one because it is true-memory does lie. We construct the kind of memory we need, a memory that will tend to enrich our life and make it more meaningful. We try to justify or explain what we have done or not done. It’s comforting to know that you mattered, or at least to think that you mattered.”
Occasionally two or more small presses join forces to channel their efforts toward promoting a particular author. I’ve done this only once so far, joining a consortium of five small presses in support of Ohio writer/publisher, Larry Smith (Bottom Dog Press) and his definitive biography: KENNETH PATCHEN, Rebel Poet in America (2000). A book and a project I am very proud to have been a part of.
Next month, Cross+Roads Press will co-publish, along with Spoon River Poetry Press, a new book of poetry by Leo Dangel. A small press poet I wish everyone in the world could read. I’m such a fan of Leo’s new book, THE CROW ON THE GOLDEN ARCHES, I not only volunteered (demanded!) to help out by working as co-publisher, but happily blurbed the book on the back cover, and then sat down one night (two days) and did a painting for the front cover! (If that’s the small press advocacy, I don’t know what is.)
I’ve been reading Leo Dangel’s work for about fifteen years or more. As a grown man, he still retains the heart of a farm boy, and communicates this with a love beyond redemption. Here’s an earlier poem of his from his third book: HOGS AND PERSONALS:
MY FIRST MORNING MILKING
I walk to the barn before a sign of morning. The stars are sparks in a black sky. Yellow light from a window is on the blue snow.
Then my father and I carry the milk pails to the house. We bend over the sink, our heads close together, and scoop up water with our hands to wash our faces.
I smell bacon. The others come downstairs, rubbing sleepy eyes. I want to tell them what I know, the mystery that goes away when everyone wakes up and the sun is a cold fire in the east window.
This is the kind of reading that never gets the support or attention that it deserves. And this is why there are small presses (and little magazines) to keep the word alive.
I have a small, but growing list of people that I send new, Cross+Road Press book announcements to. If you would like to be included, please contact me via the website. If you would like a copy of any of the books mentioned in this blog, please contact me. (The Mariann Ritzer book is out of print.)
What follows is a copy of the brochure that recently went out sail-mail for Leo Dangel’s book.
Cross+Roads Press would appreciate your order. So too, Leo Dangel. And any and all other writers and small presses out there who seek a wider audience and need your attention.
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Dear Friends,
Occasionally I get on the bandwagon for a book I believe in. Usually an obscure book, or obscure writer, or obscure publisher. Sometimes all three. But it’s always a work I feel deserves the attention of all Cross+Roads Press readers. THE CROW ON THE GOLDEN ARCHES is one of these books. (To be co-published in September by Spoon River Poetry Press and Cross+Roads Press.) Trust me: You will love this man’s work.
Leo Dangel is not a household name among contemporary poets. Not that it matters to him. He knows who he is and what needs to be said. I once taught with him for a semester at Southwest State University in Minnesota in a department of many outstanding writers and teachers, and was never aware he even wrote poetry. He was that quiet and unassuming. He writes of `the rural’ with a beauty, innocence, and love edged in reality. He has the soul of a small, Midwestern farmer who has seen much and shapes the daily life into something simple and sacred. Not to mention the grace of understated humor. Here’s a favorite poem of mine from an earlier book of his:
A FARM BOY REMEMBERS
Saturday was for cleaning barns forking out tons of manure. There are more significant ways to spend a Saturday, when the snow is melting, but this was ours. Throw out the shit and put down clean straw. Renewal has never been so simple.
Leo is the author of four books: Among them: HOGS AND PERSONALS and HOME FROM THE FIELD. THE CROW ON THE GOLDEN ARCHES (all new poems) is his latest. Garrison Keillor has read three of Leo’s poems on “Writer’s Almanac.”
Here’s one from his new book:
COUNTRY SCHOOL TRUANT
On a warm fall afternoon, I escaped the classroom, pretending I needed to go to the outhouse, but I only strolled on the matted grass behind the schoolhouse, back and forth from shade to sunlight, hearing in the stillness the flick of a grasshopper in weeds by the fence, watching the circle of a hawk above the stubble, staying out as long as I dared, heeding a call of nature that tingled in my body and filled the whole sky.
