Thanks to Jim Ruland for a week of great reviews and interviews.  Please don't forget to come by Vermin on the Mount Sunday night for the chance to hear these readers in person.  Sw_3 Shirley Wins By Todd Taylor Gorsky Press 188 pp. (paperback) $13.95 GUEST REVIEW BY JIM RULAND I’ll be honest: I heart Shirley. Within the first few pages of Shirley Wins, I was utterly won over by its charming protagonist. Shirley is the caretaker of her granddaughter Rachel, whose mother, Willomena, died while giving birth to her daughter. Now divorced and inching closer to retirement, Shirley spends her free time baking cookies and knitting colorful sweaters. Then one day she is bit by “the puma of physics” and, inspired by an advertisement for a pumpkin chucking contest, begins puttering in her garage. Shirley constructs a giant slingshot in her backyard and using rocks she’s loaded into a sling she knitted for the purpose, takes aim at the abandoned paper mill across the ravine. Delighted by the sound of rocks plunking off the siding, she goes to work on more ambitious projects and is soon wreaking havoc with her homemade catapult, potato gun, and a howitzer of a pumpkin launcher. The accomplishments are the result of breakthroughs in the garage that allow her to temporarily master the forces she is trying to control; but there is a limit to her understanding and she pays a heavy price when she gets too careless or cute. For instance, when she loads a bowling ball in a catapult designed for much smaller loads, the contraption literally explodes and her granddaughter finds her in the driveway in a pool of her blood. Shirley is as determined as she is resilient and one of the pleasures of the book is watching her fight through the pain and the failure and the shame as she doggedly tries to “punch back at the world” with her machines. At first glance, it’s an unusual book for a man who has devoted the last ten years of his life putting out quality punk rock zines, but the book is essentially about the painstaking pursuit of something that others may find strange or even downright stupid. There are a million hoary clichés that can be applied to Shirley Wins. Never give up on your dreams is one. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger is another. But essentially it boils down to a likable old lady who builds a ballistic missile system disguised as a pumpkin launcher, and how many books can promise that? Quiztunes for Todd Taylor: You've dedicated your life to punk rock, but the protagonist of Shirley Wins is about as punk as a teakettle. What gives? True, on the surface Shirley is a marm and modeled after my mother and grandmother. I’m not going to go as far to say that Shirley is in any way, shape, or form a punk rocker, but I think how she approaches all of her projects in the book is how a DIY punk rocker would go about it: use available materials, become your own “amateur professional expert,” and do something that can kill you that your neighbors have no real comprehension of, even if you explain it to them in detail. Also, it’s a reaffirmation of my belief that some of the most influential lifer punks look just like ordinary folks. Descendents, Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat, Fugazi, Evens), Tim Version, Tiltwheel, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, Fucked Up—all look/looked like shopping clerks and don’t put too much salt in the “looking punk” part of punk, but exploded how it’s approached. There’s a ferociousness that’s deceptive because it’s focused inward and not geared to how other people identify a visual threat. Shirley’s intentionally under the radar. So, yeah, you’re right. Shirley’s not punk, but her actions—especially from my framework—falls right line in with that lifestyle. Shirley builds a slingshot, a catapult, a potato gun and a pumpkin launcher. Have you built any of these things? No, but I’m a constant tinkerer, I’m always wondering how things tick, and poverty makes me crafty. There are simple things, like I’m currently using milk crates, dowels, and plywood and have made portable, stackable record shelves for all of my vinyl, and I made an entertainment center (which is more milk crates and plywood, but to exact dimensions). I was a tow truck driver for a bit and know how to repair the basic things that break in cars. Many of the parts from Shirley Wins came from my time driving a wrecker, especially visiting specialty part makers and seeing, first hand, how experienced mechanics would troubleshoot problems that drove them nutty. Actually, a friend of mine, Ray, made a variation of the slingshot. Unhappy with water balloons, one day, he loaded up a rock and broke his leg when the rock arced back and hit him. He still limps from it and that was a good twelve years ago. About a month ago, I wanged the bumper off this lady’s car. It was totally my fault, but the lady was cool. She admitted that her car was crappy, and didn’t mind if the parts weren’t new, just solid. So I scoured three junk yards, pulled all the parts, and with the help of a couple friends, repainted, re-installed, and Boy Scouted the bumper and lighting assembly back to better than new. I’m handy. Shirley Wins was also inspired by the spirit of my grandfather, who helped invent tail hooks for airplanes landing on aircraft carriers, my uncle; who’s a nuclear physicist; and the junkyard genius and many-time land speed record holder Art Arfons. Basically, I’m fascinated with, “How do you crack a nut?” How do you solve a problem that’s not all theory, but a thing that lives in the physical world? And that thing may maim or kill you, but if it works, it’s bitchin’. What was the most gratifying part of writing this book? That I wasn’t expecting a novel. It started as a short story, merely as something to do of my own when I had a rare break from putting together Razorcake and the website. Shirley Wins took a life of its own. It became a tremendously long short story, then a novella, then a full-blown novel. It’s nice when something blossoms right in front of you and it doesn’t seem forced. You've toured with Joe Meno and read with Todd Dills so you know their work pretty well. What's the best/worst thing about reading with these guys? There’s no worst part. I’m stoked to be in the company of active writers I admire. It’s also one of the rare times—due to the drives—that we can all sit and talk stories and really get into the creative process. And drink beer, read all over the county, and meet new people doesn’t hurt any. It’s great knowing that you’re far from being alone, that there’s an active DIY writing community with invisible tendrils reaching into unexpected places, and that people actually still read books and want to see some folks read from them. What's next? Fiction or more nonfiction? Both. I’ve got two interviews in the next issue of Razorcake—Bloodhag and In the Red Records, and, if things settle down a wee bit, I’ve got a novel that’s been an Frankensteinian albatross around my neck for over a decade. It’s 1,200 pages. It needs to be 600 pages at the most, so it’ll take me a good year of weed whacking just to get to the heart of it. This one’s a bit more difficult because it’s more autobiographical.