The Suicide Collectors in Italian!


I guess it comes out this month in Italy? Here's the babelfish translation of what I found on the web to describe it:

l number of February of " Urania" it sees the debut of a new singer dell' Apocalypse, finalist to the prize Bram Stoker. THE BOOK Who colleziona the rests of the sort human? Who is the macabri pulitori that dulls anywhere from the nothing c' it is a corpse, anywhere cries a relative as soon as trapassato? E' the question key of this amazing novel, in which l' humanity has ended in order soccombere to the morbo of the Desperation. Of forehead all' to be left over of the terrifying epidemic of suicides, someone begins to ask itself: truly it is played l' last hour? From part its, l' author does not supply easy answers but he is limited to confirm its topic in great style: " I have un' only obsession. The end of the mondo". L' AUTHOR David Oppegaard alive to St Paul, Minnesota, and The Suicide Collectors, its first novel, has exited in 2008. The second Wormwood is appeared at the end of 2009 with the title it, Nevada. The present The Suicide Collectors has been finalist to the prize Bram Stoker.
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Rolling On

Whew, January is over. What a crappy month. Am I right, am I right? I have three readings coming up in February in Maple Grove, at St. Olaf, and on the west bank at the U of MN. More details can be found here.

I've just finished another draft (it might be the 10th draft?) of my 8th novel, From the Void, after getting a good amount of feedback from publishing editors. Now I'm moving on to the 3rd draft of Book #9, a.k.a. The Floating Luminosity.

Now, if only the snow devils would move on and leave Minnesota alone. Also, take the damn cold with you.

A blogagaard can dream, can't he?
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Vikings=Pain

I've fallen down the rabbit hole of editing two books at once, but I did emerge long enough last Sunday to enjoy a nice, horribly painful Vikings game WHERE WE SHOT OURSELVES IN THE FUCKING FOOT ABOUT TEN TIMES AHAHAHAHAHAHA WHY BRETT WHY??????

Ahem. Here is a brief video documentary my friends Geoff Herbach and Steph Ash made about watching the game:

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The Four Readers of the Apocalypse

I've just returned from visiting my friend, Kelly. We talked about science fiction readers and he told me about study he did back in grad school, around 1985, where he came to the conclusion that there are basically four types of science fiction readers. I apologize in advance, Kelly, for any inaccuracies in this blog, including the name of each group. I've also added some of my own touches to each group.

The Four Types

1. The Serious Networker

The Serious Networker reads science fiction in a clinical way, taking it as seriously as any literary fiction reader. They read Phillip K. Dick and William Gibson and J.G. Ballard and are generally very well informed about the genre, with a strong sense of the genre's history. They could care less if a novel is long or short, as long as it says something interesting. They attend science fiction conferences, write thoughtful review blogs, and generally network with other fans, through the Internet and otherwise.

2. The Serious Isolationist

The Serious Isolationist approaches the sci-fi she reads in much the same was as the networker, but does not generally attend sci-fi conferences or spend copious amounts of time on the Internet chatting with other fans. The time they spend not networking may be spent reading other genres, including literary fiction. They might enjoy Alice Munro as much as Asimov. They can be dark, brooding types with little energy for socialization.

3. The Casual Reader

The casual reader isn't too choosy about what genre they're reading. They could have as easily picked up a western or a crime novel as a sci-fi novel. They're looking for something to entertain them before bed, after a long day of work at the office. They're likely to buy books at airports or drugstores to help kill a few hours while traveling. They buy a lot of paperbacks with puffy, gold lettering on the cover. They're not looking for super heroes to worship or deeper meanings-like the crowds of ancient Rome, they seek Entertainment. They don't think about fan fiction, much less writing it.

4. The Immersed Reader

The Immersed Reader is willing to go all-in with a book. They seek elaborate plots with larger-than-life characters. Not only do they attend science fiction cons, they attend fantasy cons as well. In fact, they're quiet likely to be big fans of both sci-fi and fantasy, since both genres tend to be based on two kinds of magic anyway. They read Marion Zimmer Bradley and Star Wars books and other space opera and they want their books thick, with many points of view and elaborately detailed worlds and tons of sequels. They dress up like the characters in the books they read. They write fan fiction and run fan websites.

Of course, this is just a generalization of reader types, and a lot of people will either be a mixture of these types or fall through the cracks completely. I'd consider myself a Serious Isolationist, for the most part. My dad (hi Dad!) is definitely a Casual Reader.

Your thoughts?
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Let's Do This Shit!

We have evolved a new cosmogony of literature, Boris and I. It is to be a new Bible-The Last Book...We will exhaust the age. After us not another book-not for a generation, at least. Heretofore we have been digging in the dark, with nothing but instinct to guide us. Now we shall have a vessel in which to pour the vital fluid, a bomb which, when we throw it, will set off the world. We shall put into it enough to give writers of tomorrow their plots, their dramas, their poems, their myths, their sciences. The world will be able to feed on it for years to come. It is colossal in its pretentiousness. The thought of it almost shatters us.

-Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
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A Good Morning

It's been a good morning here in the land of Blogagaard. The coffee was tasty, as were the Coco Wheats. Just delicious! And we also learned that our Hamline writer friend Jeff Smeiding has landed an agent for his dark fantasy novel! Whoop! Congrats again, Jeff!

Landing an agent is a heady time for a burgeoning writer. When I finally found representation it almost immediately kicked off waves of grandeur delusions and validation feelings and general insomnia. Most excellent. I believe I called it "a red day".

Also, I received an invite to my younger step-brother's first gallery show. Nathan Jorgenson is quite the photographer-artiste. He took my dust jacket photo on what might have been the Coldest Goddamn Day Ever a few years back and complained nary a bit.

Anyhow. A good morning!
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Let the playoffs...begin!


Today is first day of the NFL playoffs. Oh, the agony and the ecstasy! Will Vikings head coach Brad Childress somehow make it to the Super Bowl despite himself? Will I watch so many stupid commercials something inside me quietly dies? Will we get to see some bone crunching hits and players giving 110%?

Tune in to find out!
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