It has been very discouraging not getting a single response to my book in a year. But I am feeling better because I recently got some new ideas for the book and am going to publish a revised edition. More tomorrow.

Discounting Notes from Oblivion, I have recently had a poem published for the first time. My poem about whales, May They Forever Frolic, appears in the Special Summer 2023 Edition of the journal put out by The Van Isle Poetry Collective. It received an honorable mention.

It can be viewed online  www.vanislepoetrycollective.com/current-publications

This is the image that accompanies May They Forever Frolic, poem #22 in Notes from Oblivion. Watermarks do not appear in the the book. The main thing here is capturing the grandeur of Vancouver Island.

     I have completed most of the basic steps required of a self-published author. I have actually published a small book of my poetry, which is cool. I have purchased and received both a hardcover and paperback edition and I am thoroughly pleased with the looks of them. I have seen that being available at all online booksellers means nothing. I have seen that getting listed on Goodreads and having an Author Page there means nothing. I have repeatedly contacted BC Bookworld, informing them of the publication of my collection and have received no response. And, most disconcerting, I have had only a very few visitors to this website and not a single comment.
      Months ago, in my chronicle of this adventure, I disparaged the idea of paid reviews as "loathsome". Well, my high horse is now long gone, and later this month I will purchase one from Self-Publishing Review. For around two hundred bucks you get a short review and it is distributed widely. I hope this will help. They also have a lot of interesting modules for sale to help promote a book. As a huge bonus, I will finally get some kind of verdict on my poems.

     Still not a single comment about Notes from Oblivion. Perhaps that is a good thing. Anyway, since the beginning of my self-publishing journey I have been writing a chronicle of the experience. It is now over 43,000 words and here is a recent excerpt:

November 6, 2023
I feel I should put up a blog post to indicate, at least to myself, that I am alive. I have posted the herbed cream cheese canape poem and photo. In a few days, I will announce the creation of The Birds of Courtenay. Speaking of which, I believe I have perfected it. I think this is a really great poem and am considering debuting at a "Reading Night" hosted by the Puntledge River Writers Clique on the 26th. This is how I envision it:

     This was my first attendance at the Reading Night, and I was not sure if I would be participating; perhaps there was a scheduled list of speakers. As it was from 6-8 pm, two hours, I felt that it might also be a free-for-all. So I brought my new poem, The Birds of Courtenay. The event was at the local library and I arrived ten minutes early. There were already about 25-30 people gathered, mostly what you’d expect, and they all seemed to know each other. They were arranged in a loose semicircle facing a modest podium with a microphone. When the readings began the lights were dimmed and a soft spotlight illuminated the speaker. The MC informed us that they would begin with regular participants and then anyone present who had something could read it. I quickly discovered that many of these people are seriously demented. They would orate something unfathomable, often gesturing, the audience listening rapturously, and then return humbly to their place, beside themselves. After about an hour it was open mic. I should note that it was not just “poetry” that was recited but also vacuous mutterings with no narrative structure. As I am totally shy, I did not immediately raise my hand. When it seemed that most who wanted to contribute had, I did. I have a morbid fear of attention but an even greater desire for it. As I approached the podium I became aware of an atmosphere of apprehension, if not suspicion. I began by saying that this is a little poem about birds I had written recently and a few people chuckled. I had just finished the second stanza

Geese also pause on their migration,
respite from a flight so daunting
As they pass by in vee formation
I always wonder what they’re honking

when some guy shouted, “That’s bullshit, man! You can’t rhyme daunting with honking!”. I could see he was about thirty, had light curly hair, a beard, and glasses. There were murmurs and someone cleared their throat. I looked at him and said, “Who the fuck are you?”. Immediately there was a brouhaha. While the goof was stunned into silence, everybody else began expressing their displeasure: “Who are you?”, “He’s not a member!”, “Oh my God”, “Why?”, and several of them actually began honking. The MC, a featureless woman in deck shoes, khaki slacks, and an aboriginal sweater, approached me and said, “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The hubbub subsided. I looked her in the face, looked at the critic, who seemed to be frothing at the mouth, and then walked out of the library, fractured and at the same time exhilarated.

Or something like that.

I have gotten the pricing of the book about right at last. I am waiting until it finally becomes available at Amazon.ca to begin a promotional campaign. At this point, just one copy of Notes from Oblivion has been purchased, on October 13th. I can't help wondering who this unique individual may be, and a few days ago expressed my thoughts in a little poem.

A Single Copy
 
A single copy of my book has been bought
No, not by me, but by someone somewhere
What made them notice it?
What was it they sought?
Do they live just next door or way over there?
 
Who is this lone reader with whom I feel connected?
What do they do?
Are they young or old?
Will they have any regrets once my words they’ve inspected?
Have they even read them?
Will I ever be told?
 
It’s wonderfully strange to have sold just one book,
but not something upon which I wish to dwell
I will always remember selling this single copy
until somebody else buys one to break the spell
 
November 30th, 2023
© Gary Russo

Hello Goodreads! I have just established my Authors Page at Goodreads. I look forward to interacting with the community.

I have been able to get the price of my book reduced. Please note that it is easily available as an eBook for ten dollars Canadian. I have provided a link on the main page, where you can also read the first four poems. I have composed a new poem, a seven-stanza, crass, anti-woke diatribe. I intend this to be my main and final involvement in the cultural wars, to go along with Mao Would Be Proud and Literary Goons found in Notes from Oblivion. It is called Probably, Not Necessarily and begins

Probably, not necessarily,
your new-born baby really is a boy
But freaks whisper that you can not be certain
until it has selected its first toy

     I have recently completed a new poem, The Birds of Courtenay. It is ten stanzas long, featuring geese, finches, robins, crows, pigeons, seagulls, starlings, and eagles. Here is the opening stanza and a picture of Courtenay.

A pleasant little island town
nestled in a serene valley
Life’s winding road has lead me here
and so I contemplate and dally
 

Herbed Cream Cheese on Ritz Cracker
By Gary Russo   August 2023
 
“Despise not the day of small things”
said Zechariah, the biblical prophet
So, we will take a humble, yet perfect, Ritz cracker
and add something artful to top off it
 
Verily, verily, chopped finely,
fresh basil, marjoram, and dill,
character, color, intrigue, and flavor
in our simple canape instill
 
Only the finest cream cheese will do,
please pardon my insistency
Place cold in a bowl and with a handheld mixer
beat with the herbs just enough for a piping consistency
 
In everything simple there are always nuances,
the piping bag should not be more than half filled,
and don’t pipe too close to the edge of the cracker
or your soiled-fingered guests will be less than thrilled
 
Remove the tops and the bottoms of red and yellow bell peppers
Lay skin-side down, deseed, and remove the membrane
with a sharp slicer knife and, for perfection,
carefully, accurately, evenly plane 
 
Cut them into strips about one inch wide
and then into handsome spear-like decorations
This little extra step will help to ensure that
you exceed everyone’s expectations
 

     As almost nobody is visiting this website, and I have not received a single comment in over a month, I write these lines for myself, to read sometime in the future. I still have no idea what the reaction to this collection, if any, is going to be. I had promised to provide another "glimpse" at the poems today, so here it is. I will not do any more as it is obviously pointless. This is the illustration accompanying We Are The Blockheads. It is generative AI by Adriana entitled Portrait of a Pit Bulldog dressed in a formal business suit. Watermarks do not appear in the book.

    Notes from Oblivion has stumbled coming out of the gate. As I have said, it will probably be the middle of November before the price becomes more reasonable. At that point I will relaunch the book. It is a mischievous, amusing, and provocative collection and I am sure it will eventually become popular, if not despised. In the meantime, I'll give you a glimpse of the poems. I'll do another of these next Friday. Here is the art accompanying the poem The Debutante (opening stanza below). It is generative AI entitled Tropical elegant pink flamingo and beautiful young woman concept by Uncanny Valley. Like many of the images, I found it at the excellent online resource Adobe Stock. The watermarks do not appear in the book.