Speaking of podcasts, I talked with writer/editor Dan Higgins about Shader for hew new Dan Reads Books podcast.
I had fun digging into discussions on writing, the retrospective voice, interviewing family members for research, and how working class memoirs lack bourgeoisie group-hug endings. It should pop up on the podcast’s iTunes feed soon, and the Soundcloud link is embedded above.
Dudes, there are two chapters from Shader up on The Brooklyn Rail website. Check them out. One is from high school and another is from Camden.
Your one-stop shopping page for all things Shader is up on the website. Go to danielnester.com/shader, check out the blurbs from Paul Lisicky, Darcey Steinke, and Billy Squier, and click the ordering links!
The new book, Shader: 99 Notes on Car Washes, Making Out in Church, Grief, and Other Unlearnable Subjects, doesn’t come out officially until November 15, but it’s available for pre-order now on Amazon, the well-known online retailing site.
Click on the title in the previous sentences or follow this link and buy a few copies. And make 15-year-old sugar-high me smile!
Anything addressed to me seemed more important. Or at least personalized.
And so I filled out any pre-paid postcard I found that would send something free in return. Each day mailman arrived with Burpee seed catalogs, Columbia and RCA record clubs with gag names like (Jacques Strapp, Seymour Hiney, I.P. Daly), and brochures for travel bureaus. I sent away for The Consumer Information Catalog, checked from a list of publications—the government had to mail them to your home, I thought, it was the law—and couple weeks later, a bulging envelope from Pueblo, Colorado would arrive with “Tips for Successful Interstate Moves” (DOT, 620pp, Free) and “Women and Retirement Plans” (DOL, 587pp, Free) would arrive, too big for the mailbox. Whoever worked at the FCIC in 1979 must have thought that the Daniel Nester in New Jersey who sent for “A Volunteer’s Guide to Food Safety” (40pp, FDA, Free) and “Loss of Bladder Control” (2pp, FDA, Free) was not a ten-year-old boy, but some loony retiree or hermit.