Now
there's a likelihood that's absolutely enormous--thanks to TIM GATTO and his new novel,
KIMCHEE DAYS, OR, STONED-COLD WARRIORS. One of the several blurbs on this new novel's back cover says "I've read
Kimchee Days four times--and with every reading I've laughed as hard as the time before."
Oliver is so sure you'll do the same that if you buy the book and
don't laugh, we'll give you a free copy of any other book on Oliver's list. Of course, this offer requires also that you submit a 350-word essay explaining clearly, exactly, and precisely
why you didn't laugh. This essay, furthermore, must be written at a "B" level
at least (for guidance in grading, see
A Nation Gone Blind, Chapter One).
Okay, so the real truth is that Oliver doesn't want to give books away after all. What it wants is to
sell books, good ones, so that it can publish
more good ones.
And what makes a book good? Well, to be good, a book doesn't have to be huge, or difficult, or big, or ambitious, or ponderous, or deep, or, on the other hand, popular, or a best-seller--although a good book
can be any and all of these things. Think of A. Stephen Engel's world-class modernist novel,
Topiary, or of the forthcoming volume of piercingly brilliant poetry from Greg Marszal,
I Am Not Dead. Those books do happen to be high, deep, and in varying ways philosophical, but let me tell you here and now what any book--
wherever it falls on the scale of ambition or greatness--what any book needs in order to be a
good one. It's very simple. To be a good one, a book needs to have a big heart and a true one. And, in tandem with that heart, it needs to have
a strong mind that's also a whole mind.
These requirements are a little like Stephen Dedalus' requirements of "wholeness, harmony, and radiance." Except that the words The Oliver Arts & Open Press choses are "honesty, truth, and wholeness."
Once, books of that kind were less rare than they are now. Nowadays, though, not one piece of art or literature out of every three thousand published by the mainstream media possesses this simple but all-important trio of qualities without which a work
cannot be meaningful both artistically
and philosophically.
I can hear the cries: "Ugh! Gack! Oliver means
hard books,
deep books,
fat books,
brain books, books that are no
fun, that aren't
entertaining."
Nope. All of the above, untrue. What Oliver is looking for, simply, is that increasingly rare commodity, the
real book. Just take a look at
Kimchee Days, or, Stoned-cold Warriors. This light, hilarious, touching novel has all three of the sacred trio of qualities, and it has them in spades.
Kimchee is proof that to be
good, a book doesn't have to be hifalutin or difficult or abstruse or exclusive or snobby--this very notion, in fact, being a great falsehood foisted on the public in order to make that public settle more happily for a froth of skim milk and water while they go on thinking it's whipped cream.
No, Tim Gatto's simple story about a kid of eighteen on his first tour of duty overseas in the early 1970s has a big heart. It has honesty bursting out through its seams. And it's written with the kind of truthfulness that can't help but invest the very fiber, the warp and woof, of the book itself. It's written, in other words, by an author who not only has a good mind,
but who also has a whole mind.
That's a great rarity these days,
believe me. So get hold of the novel, read it, tell others that if they want to laugh out loud and not feel let down or used or crappy or cheapened by it afterward, the way they do after watching television--well, tell them to get their hands on
Kimchee Days, right now, at any book store whether electronic or brick, or, on the other hand, by clicking
right here.