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Jeoffrey Pucci February 16, 2014 | 5:57pm EST Film and cinema provide modes of explanation in the most varied domains, because they are often for us the site of profound change and reflection, crucial for self-development and experiencing what we call “the self.” Perhaps a film occurs in a manner similar to that of an “event.” For each of us it is easy enough to show that the concept of who we are and the question of how we became “ourselves” is as old as the history of the Western tradition itself. Nevertheless, the experience of molding the self is often shared — up to this point, I have sought to stake out it, marking and drawing us together into a certain nexus of experience. The function of this shared or lived experience is not to disorient us, but rather, to orient us together, balancing and organizing our horizons of meaning toward a common meridian. If each film we watch may be explained as a certain puncturing or rupturing of our distinct horizons, let us endeavor to conceive of this “event” as a profound return or remembrance of our commonality. Now, let us consider the very basic premise of John Carpenter’s film They Live (1988): a relatively simple working class man discovers a box full of sunglasses that allow him to see the hidden message behind very common and mainstream advertisements. A billboard of a woman tanning in the sun is transformed into simple one or two word phrases such as “Obey”, “Marry and Reproduce”, “Stay Asleep”; Newspapers become “Obey Authority” and “Watch T.V.”. This experience of the decay of urban society and the blind compulsion towards acts of consumption is not difficult to locate within a certain political context. However, in order to determine the status of these glasses, the film tempts us towards a certain ideological re-inscription. We are tempted to articulate a contemporary critical (Leftist) perspective, which speaks of the alienation of labor, distractedness presented in consumerism, materialist greed eroding society, and so on. In a certain sense, They Live serves as a model par excellence for a kind of materialist interpretation of consumerism, because, as we see, it is the poor who work on the construction of objects, and are much more easily awoken to the political and economic exploitation than those closer to the ruling ideology, i.e., the construction-site workers, and the tenants of the homeless shelter as opposed to the police and store-clerks. However, the brilliance of They Live is how it becomes an event wherein we become a sublime object of ideological reflection. Subtly, what we at first encounter is simply an ideology that is being forcibly stripped bare in front of our very eyes by another ideology. In the most basic sense, as the film unfolds we perpetuate an aggression into the landscape of this film. Thus, the “event” that I outlined earlier — a certain rupture, the puncturing motion of our common horizon, embodied in our aggression towards advertisement — is both our feelings towards the film and the brilliance of this film. Without knowing that the uneasiness we feel towards these “fake” advertisements is actually an aggression towards our own ideological position, They Live makes us both the aggressor and victim of these “glasses” of truth. Carpenter, the astute director, at first, perpetuates a simple horizon of meaning, i.e., we meet the main character Nada and shortly after he gets a job working at a construction site. All the signs of the symbolic world are evident around him; lavish riches, expensive cars, high rises and so on. Then we see a radical line of separation set in; Nada discovers the true message behind the advertisements and responds with an uncannily violent rampage; escaping the police, gaining multiple firearms, and assaulting a bank. In short, we, in viewing, ascend into relatively common and acceptable depiction of everyday life, and then, quickly watch it be retracted away from us as Nada and us affix the ideological glasses into our horizon. Thus, the common reality, one which we come to know as our own reality, is inverted and thrown right back at us. The changes that the film introduces do not point toward some bizarre secondary reality, one that is simply lying underneath this reality. Rather, this film makes reality, as a Lynchian would say, that seems more real than it already is — in sum, it forces us to see that this second world is actually apart of the first world — our world. In the age of daily psychological (Symbolic) reconstitution (i.e., a new product is released, we gain opinions of the performance of it, develop ideas regarding how this product effects the brand, and so on), the role of advertisement has a distinctive role in daily life. We come to experience and know advertisements in two profound ways. The first is as either an indication of a certain system of classification, i.e., social class, or, as Jean Baudrillard says, a social code within “consumer society.” A mark that lacks actual active syntax, but nevertheless formalizes a universal system of recognition of “social statuses” or a certain “code of social standing,” as he puts it. And the second, much more simply, we opt to understand the world through these codes or stereotypes of knowledge, thus consolidating a product into a larger idea of “brand.” Thus, we understand the product only in relation to the “brand” it comes from (but also, paradoxically, only know the “brand” through its product). Herein lies the subtle brilliance of They Live. What comes before all of this is the drive towards consumption, the desire to “know” this system, and this drive towards knowing the system manifests itself in acts of consumption. In a very profound scene when Nada gives a pair of glasses to his best friend Frank (Keith David), he tells Frank to not wear the glasses for too long because, as he says, “It becomes harder to take them off.” What is curious of this exchange is how each character that we observe in this film, as he or she wears the glasses, seems to revert to a passive observer, one that is content with watching the different types of individuals consuming the various products present in society. It is as if these two characters need to keep the glasses on in order to make sense of the advertisements they are bombarded with on a day-to-day basis. What we have here is a hidden reversal of the film’s simple anti-consumerist political message, in which we come to say that advertisements create, as Marcuse would say, “false needs”: the obscene, uncanny, and absurd messages behind the advertisements only have a second dimension because the first dimension. Let us be clear here: we can only perceive this second “truthful” dimension because we have possession of the first. In many scenes we are located in small shops, banks, or grocery stores, and at each, we see where there is a relatively homogeneous collection of people: some, those at banks or high brow stores are not even human, while others at lower end stores all resemble each other. The longer we observe this film, the clearer this homogeneity becomes to us. Each individual that is consuming seems to consume the same type of product as those with similar tastes, looks, and affects as him or herself. This is not incredibly surprising. However the real genius of They Live is that each individual, when given the chance to change this pattern of consumption, won’t. It is here we leave behind the simple materialist conception of consumerism, and broach a very Derridian conclusion: one “reality” only exists because of the other “reality.” It is no coincidence that we dreamers invent our own logic. The perception of one “reality” must be affixed to the other “reality.” Thus, in our case we must be driven towards and into a certain “reality” of consumption in order to understand this second “reality,” that is, the drive to consume objects becomes a necessary component to the individual’s life since the products are as much apart of the individual’s identity as they apart of this second “reality.” The glasses and the awakening of class consciousness observed in Nada and Frank then takes on a new dimension. As Derrida puts it, a certain becoming of the “I” – that is, one must be interpolated as a consumer first to come to see this second anti-consumerist reality. The “event” I have called for earlier now interlocks itself with a certain rupture in the history of Marxism itself. It consists in reflecting on the status of consumer ideology and why we have not yet “replaced” this consumer reality with another one, i.e., the proletarian one. Thus, They Live ventures a very daring Post-Marxist interpretation: We cannot simply “replace” this reality with another, because the other reality would only be entangled within a system of relations and exchanges with the older replaced reality. We see in They Live that the act of consumption is never driven directly by a material mode of production nor of a societal code of “affluence”, it is rather, much more akin to our daily lives and experiences, in this discord between the visual substance and the imagery and messages affixed unto them, collectively signifying the organization of the system that one wants to have as their system of understanding. What is consumed is not objects, but as Baudrillard says, “the relationship itself” — that is, the consumption of products, “brands”, “identities” constitutes consumption in a purely virtual sense: “[S]ignified and absent, included and excluded at the same time – it is the idea of the relation that is consumed in the series of objects which manifests it. This is no longer a lived relation: it is abstracted and annulled in an object-sign where it is consumed” (Baudrillard, The System of Objects:22). This virtual act of consumption has to be conceived precisely in the sense of the individual consumer, as we commonly say today, ‘buys into a certain lifestyle.’ Thus, we profoundly see that a consumer never simply purchases one object nor is it about simply replacing this “reality” with another “reality.” All at once, we have to think about when we purchase something, we are flushed with a new desire, one more object to adorn this manikin, within a greater constellation of reflecting and bifurcating desires. How do we escape this? Unlike the conclusion of the film, which ends in a traditional revolutionary fantasy (akin to the Leninist party with a total violent revolution), the real message is simple: these are realities of consumption, without consumption neither of these would be possible.

Jeoffrey Pucci February 9, 2014 | 3:04pm EST What we encounter in Michelangelo Antonioni’s Red Desert (1964) is the most paradoxical reading of modernity offered yet, which presents us with a final conclusion to his previous trilogy of films (L’Avventura, La Notte and L’Eclisse). Antonioni assures our most basic relationships with an industrialized and modern conception of Western Civilization; we are swept across the rise of heavy industry, observe an increase in existential alienation in social relations, and experience the development of ecological problems. We know this. The uncanny and yet even distinctly modernized form of social society is what we are now. This is familiar to what we experience when we imagine ourselves traveling from the rural country into the urban center: the slow reduction of natural forms, the injection of more and more geometrically consigned shapes, the uncannily feeling of parking our car on a ubiquitous street, and the sense of anxiety we feel for being “away” from our “world” for too long, perhaps missing key or essential developments there while we were away. This momentary injection back into modernity’s preconditioned modeling is experienced in only its purest emotional form: despair. However, this is how we experience modernity; for all of its developments, it is the landscape we call home. And thus, we are brought to Antonioni’s most mature theme, which we only were able to catch glimpses of in his previous trilogy: one should not simply observe modernity, nor should one try to apply old traditions or ideas to modernity, but rather, one must adapt to modernity. Therefore, let us begin by saying there remains two distinct ways of interpreting Antonioni’s Red Desert. The first is to follow the director’s rather symmetrical structural analysis, drawing one into a classist depiction of the aesthetically alienating and socially subversive sub-structure of the 20th century bourgeois. The landscapes, sceneries and omnipresent sounds of machinery dominate what we perceive; each frame of this film bears the distinct mark of industrialization. In a certain sense, this film can be viewed as a mature and sublime reflection of the unimaginable progression of heavy industry into all latitudes and altitudes of society. The late industrial settings posses all the features one would expect: workers protesting, ubiquitous and imposing smoke stacks, military guards escorting wealth prospectors, a starving woman and a small, young looking boy. It is no accident that cinematic commentaries on this era of heavy industrialization are so keen on the sense of despair, isolation and alienation; however, the type of despair that confronts us in Red Desert is not the same which was found in Antonioni’s previous trilogy of films. Therefore, let us consider a much more radical and cynical way of understanding the industrial decay and disintegration of social structures occurring through this maelstrom of muted and flattened horizons. What we are confronted with in Red Desert is a very subtle and yet intelligible sense of despair that is immediately evident when we encounter the familiar character of Giuliana, played by Monica Vitti. We observe Vitti’s character only resisting the introduction of mechanized reality into her psychical landscape, without making any attempt at accepting it. A sense of despair emerges in the simplest of scenes, starting at the very beginning of the film: Giuliana stumbles through gray mud in her red heels; she doesn’t know where the closest convenience store is and must beg for food from a striking worker; the noise of the factory makes conversation with her husband impossible when she encounters him. In modernity, the bourgeois, which Giuliana embodies, functions as a paradoxical threshold. We understand them as either a backward glance of recognition towards, as De Tocqueville says, an Ancien Régime, an inherited or thrown historical background, or as a spontaneous assembly of new possibilities; in a certain sense, either as an affirmation of older traditions or a creative gesture towards new ones. In Antonioni’s previous films, we opted to perceive the bourgeois as perplexed and troubled beings, stale with the ideas of their most ancient aristocratic heritage, only to be understood as fundamentally divided – unhappy, and incomplete – as the very epitome of existentially alienated. This method was helpful in unpacking the narrative arcs of Antonioni’s L’Avventura and La Notte. However, Red Desert is not so easily decoded. At the very beginning of the film, Vitti’s character confesses to having been in a car accident, which left her in the hospital for over a month. She claims it was a simple accident, one which required a rather long stay in the hospital. Then, we learn of a recurring dream; she lies in bed, only to realize the bed is moving, moving because it is resting atop quicksand. Vitti explains that the bed sinks deeper and deeper into this pit. The longer we observe Vitti over the course of the film, the more we become aware of her emotional and psychical distance from her environment. She has bought a shop; it is unfinished, empty and half painted in shades of gray, blue and silver; a telephone that rests on the floor; she hopes to transform the space into a ceramics shop, despite possessing absolutely no knowledge of ceramics. In this light, the narrative development is similar to Antonioni’s other classist stories, i.e., the intelligentsia have no real actual knowledge of how to be happy, they think the accumulation of objects of great value will produce happiness. However, the extent to which Vitti’s character is alienated from her reality is unsettling, which plunges us into a deeply psychotic landscape uncommon to the previous narrations. In Sickness unto Death, Soren Kierkegaard introduces a notion of despair that is similar to the general sense of consciousness found in Vitti’s character: “On the contrary, the torment of despair is precisely this: not to be able to die. So it has much more in common with the situation of the moribund when he lies and struggles with death, and cannot die (Kierkegaard,341). The Monica Vitti and her possession over despair takes a new form, as Kierkegaard puts it, declaring despair, despair over oneself — a desire to be someone else, somewhere else. The invocation of trauma, mental distress, and psychical dissolution are common themes in the 20th century. What is of crucial importance in this film though, is not that Vitti’s character is a reciprocal for trauma, but rather, a second and more striking feature of this film, is the closely linked relationship between modernity and trauma: the trauma of not rendering the essential elements of modernity as they really are, i.e., the noise, the alienation, the striking workers, the dead ponds, the indifferent sexual encounters. The first thing that strikes us is the complete collapse of social reality as a consequence of the “golden rules of efficiency” and of capital expansion. Like the lost characters of Antonioni’s previous films, modernity stretches and rearranges all social orders quickly and efficiently. However, Vitti’s character in this film is somehow resistant to these changes; it is as if the character, and we as the observer, somehow see the rapid changes and developments occurring before us and can somehow reject it, negate it. In Antonioni’s universe, this “no” is hard to locate in reality. The environment, the social engagements, the disillusionment of familiar structures all seems to be status-quo. The psychical space of Vitti though, is here phenomenologically depicted as entirely removed or separate from all ever-changing world. In a certain sense, Antonioni’s depiction of Vitti’s character offers a powerful argument for the re-definition of Marx’s idea of ideology, the paradigm of modern socialism where, to quote Marx directly from The German Ideology, “in history up to the present it is certainly an empirical fact that separate individuals have, with the broadening of their activities into world-historical activity, become more and more enslaved under a power alien to them (a pressure which they have conceived of as a dirty trick on the part of the so-called universal spirit, etc.), a power which has become more and more enormous and, in the last instance, turns out to be the world market” (Concerning the Production of Consciousness, The German Ideology). For Antonioni’s film, the possession of ideology is what torments Vitti’s character, whereas Vitti’s lover, Corrado (played by Richard Harris) is portrayed as the antithesis of herself; adaptable and completely at home within the landscape he is thrown within: As one who possesses the correct ideology. Approximately half way through the film, Vitti asks Harris’s character what he is bringing with him to South America. He responds, somewhat surprised, “Nothing, a bag or two.” At this moment, the film encounters its last and most critical point of inflection: Vitti explains that she would have to take everything if she were in his place. This is the clearest example of her inability to adapt to her environment. But what is more troubling is how damning her attachment to her misconfigured ideological perspective is. For Antonioni, the perplexing injunction of Vitti’s unhappiness is how she fully resists the re-colonization of her psyche by a new symbolic order, be it one of a consumer, or a nationalist, or a socialist. Vitti’s character, along with our perspective, is bombarded with the loud noises of factory work, shipping horns, and car horns, but never seems to attempt to conjoin itself within the landscape. We are struck again and again by the utter incomprehensibility of modernity – Vitti declares that she is “afraid of factories, colors, smoke, people”, in sum everything. As the world changes, Vitti resists it and is thus forced into an all-too-familiar traumatic scene of despair for not accepting or affirming the world one is within: that is to say, following Kierkegaard again, “[i]n despair at not willing to be oneself; or still lower, in despair at not willing to be a self; or lowest of all, in despair at willing to be another than himself… Think of a self (and next to God there is nothing so eternal as a self), and then that this self gets the notion of asking whether it might not let itself become or be made into another than itself. And yet such a despairer, whose only wish is this most crazy of all transformations, loves to think that this change might be accomplished as easily as changing a coat” (Kierkegaard,353). In our case though, there is no coat waiting for Vitti to change into. We encounter this sense of despair in the all moments of the film. It transgresses the separation between frames, encounters with the modern features, the social engagements. Vitti’s relationship to her inability to conjoin and access the world she lives-in stands for the radical message underpinning Antonioni’s message in this film: the reversal of rejecting modernity into the real acceptance of modernity. It occurs when we enter into the space between Vitti and the modern texture of reality.

Tiffany Wong December 3, 2013 | 10:30am EST With less than a week before AmLit’s release party, we know you’re getting antsy, so here’s Part II of our “Best of Issuu.com” to satisfy your creative needs. Freckled Magazine http://issuu.com/freckledmag Recent issue: http://issuu.com/freckledmag/docs/freckled_summer_2013 Created in Vancouver, Canada, Freckled Magazine describes itself as a “season, non-profit online visual inspiration magazine featuring photography, writing, traditional art forms, fashion and music.” Sounds overwhelming for an online publication, but Freckled manages to balance its dreamy photography and art pieces with interviews with emerging photographers, artists, fashion pioneers, and bands, especially when Freckled is over 100 pages. In its most recent issue, Summer 2013, Freckled Magazine features photography spreads of Croatia, paintings and illustrations of characters from another world, and personal written pieces. Like its past issues, the magazine seems to take pleasure in transporting its readers to a place that doesn’t exist in the real world – where everyone has the time to take long road trips and watch the sun set, documenting their adventures along the way. Little White Lies http://issuu.com/lwlies Recent issue: http://issuu.com/lwlies/docs/lwlies_47 Unbeknownst to many of us, Little White Lies is a popular publication hailing from London and focuses on the wonderful world of movies. Each of its issues are dedicated to a single film, interviewing its main actors and exploring different aspects of the film’s creation. Unlike many other publications that feature films, Little White Lies relies heavily on graphic design rather than generic movie stills or photographs from behind the scenes. Each of its covers are a work of art and it’s obvious that every page’s design was created with a purpose. As for its verbal content, Little White Lies is able to hold its readers’ attention, dividing its issues into different acts. In its “latest” issue on issuu.com (which came out five months ago; because the magazine stopped publishing online yet continues to churn out hard copies, reading its back issues will more than suffice), the magazine focuses on Man of Steel, the most recent film for the Superman franchise. Notable features include an analysis of hilarious vintage Superman comic covers, an exposé on the woman who served as the inspiration for Lois Lane, and an article on the five different ways Superman’s story was transformed in order to humanize a superhero who seems invincible. Loud and Quiet http://issuu.com/loudandquiet Recent issue: http://issuu.com/loudandquiet/docs/loudandquiet54 For those of us tired of the usual music magazine that focuses an obscene amount of attention on the same old artist that’s writing the same old music about the same old thing (love and heartache?) in the same way for a new album, there’s the U.K.- based Loud and Quiet. What better way to be ahead of the curve than to learn about new artists from the P.O.V. of another country? Its most recent issue includes short interviews with nine bands about things that piss them off, an interview with Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth fame in his own home, and numerous profiles of artists on the rise. Have you ever heard of the German band called Autobahn who’s compared to the likes of Joy Division, or the London-based band Shopping that produces “DIY funk punk”? I haven’t, but I definitely want to know what “DIY funk punk” sounds like.

Emma Bartley November 23, 2013 | 7:28pm EST Meet Mikala Rempe – my partner in crime. The empty voids in both of our lives were filled the day we were brought together as assistant poetry editors for AmLit. If you’re wondering what that position even is, it basically just means that we get to geek out about poems while excessively using the words “dude” and “literally,” along with a somewhat shameful list of colorful expletives. Rest assured, while this girl most definitely talks the talk, she can also walk the walk. At the AmLit open mic early this semester, she wowed everyone with her slam piece, “Early Onset.” So, without further adieu, enjoy these wise musings from the ultimate poetry babe herself. What got you into slam poetry? When did you start? I started slamming at the start of my senior year of high school. I have been writing short stories and poems pretty much since I could spell, and I started to watch slam videos on Youtube and became obsessed with the art and the way that page meets stage. I didn’t really gain the confidence to join a team until my best friend forced me into it. It was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. It’s amazing the sense of community you gain from slam. Talk a little about your writing process. Where does most of your content seem to come from? How have you played around with form? In what ways do you use – or perhaps avoid – certain formal elements of poetry, like rhyme and rhythm? Coming from a slam background I now write for cadence and sound above anything else. When I write poetry I have to read all of my lines out loud, just to find where my voice naturally builds and falls. I like to play with form in unconventional ways. Lots of slam poets do list poems where they number each stanza, so I like to play with that form. I have a poem about my dad’s battle with early onset Alzheimer’s. One test to diagnose Alzheimer’s is to ask the patient to count backwards from 100 by 7’s to test their cognitive state. So in this poem I number my stanza 100…93…86… and so on, like the test. I absolutely loathe traditional rhyme scheme, like nothing turns me off from a poem more, but I am in love with internal and slant rhyme. Have you written much poetry outside of the slam genre? If so, describe how your writing process for these poems differs from writing slam. Hmm, not so much right now. But I will say that I don’t think that the majority of slam poems transfer well to the page, so I definitely want to try my hand at more academic poetry. I also tend to write longer poems, so I want to play around with shorter poems and see if I can still write evocatively. How are you pursuing your passion for poetry at American? I work with AmLit’s poetry genre and it has been so eye opening to see what other people appreciate about poetry. All of the other editors make comments on poetry that I never would have thought to comment on. Everyone that came to the AmLit poetry review sessions made me appreciate poetry so much more, and the feedback has pushed me to make my own writing better. Whether it’s other poets, musicians, or visual artists, what creative work has influenced your own writing? I could talk about influences for days! I always write to music, and it can range anywhere from some old school Frank Sinatra or lately I’ve really been into Chance the Rapper’s Acid Rap. I definitely would say whatever I’m listening to is reflected in my writing. My favorite slam poets are Sam Cook from the twin cities and Jeanann Verlee from NYC. I could seriously listen to their poems all day. My favorite page poet will always be Langston Hughes, like if I ever have a son I will probably name him Langston. I also just feel the need to admit my love for Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, I can only reread that novel if I am okay with my view on life being completely flipped upside down… that book is probably the reason I am a literature major.

Tiffany Wong November 21, 2013 | 7:07pm EST You love AmLit. I love AmLit. We all love AmLit, but for those of us who need some sort of creative stimuli as we await the next release of our beloved semiannual student publication, Issuu.com is a great gift. On our college budgets, dismal and meager, pretty interest magazines published on premium card stock with minimal advertisements are usually out of our financial reach. Issuu.com, an online hub of self-produced publications, is here to help you bide your time before AmLit’s December release. Here are a few free magazines featured on the website that’ll quench the literary thirst of the curious. Au Science Magazine http://issuu.com/ausciencemag Latest issue: http://issuu.com/ausciencemag/docs/issue8 Like our precious baby AmLit, Au Science Magazine is a publication written, edited and produced by university students. Unlike our baby, Au is a product of the University of Aberdeen and focuses on current science research, views, and news. The complete opposite of what we go for, but intriguing nonetheless. In its latest issue, “Dauntless Discovery”, Au “explores just how far science can take you, and how – even without the melodrama of big screen films – some of the quietest labs have sparked the most dauntless discoveries ever made.” The magazine is able to hold the interest of those of us who aren’t the most science-savvy by tying unexpected topics together with the academic, like space psychology, historical diets, and relief efforts to save endangered, “ugly” animals. https://issuu.com/ausciencemag/docs/issue8

Tiffany Wong November 21, 2013 | 7:07pm EST You love AmLit. I love AmLit. We all love AmLit, but for those of us who need some sort of creative stimuli as we await the next release of our beloved semiannual student publication, Issuu.com is a great gift. On our college budgets, dismal and meager, pretty interest magazines published on premium card stock with minimal advertisements are usually out of our financial reach. Issuu.com, an online hub of self-produced publications, is here to help you bide your time before AmLit’s December release. Here are a few free magazines featured on the website that’ll quench the literary thirst of the curious. Au Science Magazine http://issuu.com/ausciencemag Latest issue: http://issuu.com/ausciencemag/docs/issue8 Like our precious baby AmLit, Au Science Magazine is a publication written, edited and produced by university students. Unlike our baby, Au is a product of the University of Aberdeen and focuses on current science research, views, and news. The complete opposite of what we go for, but intriguing nonetheless. In its latest issue, “Dauntless Discovery”, Au “explores just how far science can take you, and how – even without the melodrama of big screen films – some of the quietest labs have sparked the most dauntless discoveries ever made.” The magazine is able to hold the interest of those of us who aren’t the most science-savvy by tying unexpected topics together with the academic, like space psychology, historical diets, and relief efforts to save endangered, “ugly” animals. Off LIFE Comic http://issuu.com/offlife Latest issue: http://issuu.com/offlife/docs/off-life-issue7 I’ve never been one to read comics because I’ve never found a comic book – not a graphic novel – that really spoke to me, especially after I got over my short-lived Sunday newspaper Peanuts obsession (my frustration with Charlie and that football, however, still persists). Luckily, I discovered United Kingdom-based Off LIFE Comic. A little over 20 pages, the comic book reads like a book of short stories. Most comics are only two pages and in order not to bombard the reader with illustration after illustration, Off LIFE also includes interviews with comic artists and writers. It’s not surprising that the publication prides itself as U.K.’s only street press comic magazine, especially when it holds so much substance in its collection of short comics. Hot Rum Cow http://issuu.com/hotrumcow Latest issue: http://issuu.com/hotrumcow/docs/hot_rum_cow_____issue_4_-_issuu Hot Rum Cow was, admittedly, a surprising find. Its print magazine is typically 100 pages, but because the publication is based in Edinburgh, U.K., its sample 18-page issues on Issuu will have to suffice. Fortunately, Hot Rum Cow packs a lot of alcohol-soaked punch in its pages. Self-described as a “bi-annual independent magazine for people who are fascinated by great beers, wines & spirits – and the extraordinary stories behind them,” Hot Rum Cow spotlights one type of alcohol for each issues. For its most recent issue, Issue 4, the magazine focuses on sherry, a fortified wine made from white grapes that was once the drink of choice for kings and Shakespeare. Fancy stuff, but Hot Rum Cow insists that sherry has a wild side. This issue explores the 3,000-year-old history of a drink once savored by Phoenicians, interviews a man who drank 30,000 beers, and introduces a rock star turned Michelin-star chef. It’s a magazine drunk off its love for alcohol. As for its odd name, its editors say, “We’ve named it after a warm cocktail made from rum, milk, brown sugar and nutmeg. Some people love it, others don’t get it – and that’s exactly the sort of magazine we publish.”

Mia Saidel November 14, 2013 | 6:10pm EST “Esteemed city institution” and “DuPont’s replacement ritual for church” are among the words of praise for the long-running bookstore and café, Kramerbooks & Afterwords, a D.C. must-see nestled comfortably on the cosmopolitan Connecticut Avenue. A well-oiled machine, the establishment first opened in 1976 and has since been coined as the first bookstore in the country to feature a full bar and an adjacent restaurant. Its alliterative slogan, “Serving Latte to the Literati since 1976,” gleans some truth; the bookstore is also credited for being the first to serve espresso and cappuccino to its customers. Discerning eyes will recoil in defeat as they enter; Kramerbooks is deserving of its praise and location. Upon entering, the wood-clad interior illicts a comforting and casual feel to both newcomers and frequenters (I observed tourists and D.C. natives alike leaning against the shelves, elbows propped, leafing through intriguing reads). The overstuffed ledges and nooks are unpretentious, as the books converge playfully in horizontal and vertical stacks against the walls. Void of any flashy advertisements, the store is elegant in its simplicity and allows customers to stumble upon their own finds. The unobtrusive air it offers gives clear explanation of its national exposure during the Lewinsky scandal when it refused to disclose records of Lewinsky’s purchases from the store, a clear indicator of the priority it gives to customer service. The inventory is varied, but leaves room for plenty of paperback fiction and travel writing. The latter is a particularly captivating section, exciting recounts of European travels by bike and treks through France’s cuisine being among the best selling (One particularly intriguing find was Remembrance of Things Paris: Sixty Years of Writing from Gourmet edited by former Gourmet magazine editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl). France dominates the section, with more than 30 books to choose from about Parisian travel. At least two fellow browsers picked up Paris to the Past: Traveling through French history by Train during my visit. Other choices include stories of South America and the Middle East, but few featured stories were from the African continent. Bill Bryson, an expert traveler and superb writer, is also a store favorite. The children’s and young adults’ sections are equally impressive in their tasteful selections (finally, Captain Underpants wasn’t the first thing to see). Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree and Falling Up are given a prime spotlight in the center shelving. Classics by Eric Carle and Ian Falconer are also among best in the collection. Seeing the flash of pink lipstick from the Eloise cover was enough to provide a momentary flashback to my childhood and I was reminded of the simpler reads that brought me so much joy. In the adolescents’ area, it was pleasing to see that superficial reads like The Clique series were nowhere in sight. The titles, ranging from Beverly Cleary’s Ramona and Beezus and Sarah Dessen’s The Truth About Forever, signify the message that Kramerbooks is attempting to say to its younger customers: substance is key. Despite its location in the heart of a political district, Kramerbooks displays no such partisanship in its inventory. Though there are books to satisfy the future politician, they do not represent an overbearing presence in the store as one might imagine. Of course, the newest from Bill O’Reilly and Chris Matthews take center stage in the front, but most people flocked to the likes of James Patterson to satisfy their leisure time. However, in light of the recent government shutdown, a few customers seemed to be inspired and walked away with Ira Shapiro’s The Last Great Senate: Courage and Statesmanship in Times of Crisis. The second half of the establishment’s name, Afterwords Café, is not to be missed. Almost completely hidden if one walks into the front entrance of the bookstore, the café is bumped out into a mod interior with a sky-high ceiling and mirrored walls and extends into an outdoor patio setting. The menu is surprisingly sophisticated and vegetarian friendly, and is noted for its healthy alternatives. According to a waitress, the weekend brunches and Saturday evening suppers are when the café is at its busiest. It is known to host many of Washington’s prominent politicians for lunch as well. For brunch, a lovely complimentary plate of assorted mini pastries and fruit is offered as a starter. The recommended crab cake sandwich was not overwhelming in size and had a side of tangy greens that complemented it well. A bustling and enthusiastic staff contributed greatly in making the dining experience exceptional. Dining aside, Kramerbooks & Afterwords reminds D.C. that reading is an adventure. It is reminiscent of “The Shop Around the Corner” from the film You’ve Got Mail in its charm, but differs in that it will not be defeated by the corporate bookstore across the street. In other words, Kramerbooks is here to stay. Address: 1517 Connecticut Avenue, NW, Washington, D.C. 20036 Hours: 7:30 AM-1AM daily, 24 hours Friday & Saturday Live Music Wednesday-Saturday night.

Mia Saidel November 14, 2013 | 6:10pm EST “Esteemed city institution” and “DuPont’s replacement ritual for church” are among the words of praise for the long-running bookstore and café, Kramerbooks & Afterwords, a D.C. must-see nestled comfortably on the cosmopolitan Connecticut Avenue. A well-oiled machine, the establishment first opened in 1976 and has since been coined as the first bookstore in the country to feature a full bar and an adjacent restaurant. Its alliterative slogan, “Serving Latte to the Literati since 1976,” gleans some truth; the bookstore is also credited for being the first to serve espresso and cappuccino to its customers. Discerning eyes will recoil in defeat as they enter; Kramerbooks is deserving of its praise and location. Upon entering, the wood-clad interior illicts a comforting and casual feel to both newcomers and frequenters (I observed tourists and D.C. natives alike leaning against the shelves, elbows propped, leafing through intriguing reads). The overstuffed ledges and nooks are unpretentious, as the books converge playfully in horizontal and vertical stacks against the walls. Void of any flashy advertisements, the store is elegant in its simplicity and allows customers to stumble upon their own finds. The unobtrusive air it offers gives clear explanation of its national exposure during the Lewinsky scandal when it refused to disclose records of Lewinsky’s purchases from the store, a clear indicator of the priority it gives to customer service. The inventory is varied, but leaves room for plenty of paperback fiction and travel writing. The latter is a particularly captivating section, exciting recounts of European travels by bike and treks through France’s cuisine being among the best selling (One particularly intriguing find was Remembrance of Things Paris: Sixty Years of Writing from Gourmet edited by former Gourmet magazine editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl). France dominates the section, with more than 30 books to choose from about Parisian travel. At least two fellow browsers picked up Paris to the Past: Traveling through French history by Train during my visit. Other choices include stories of South America and the Middle East, but few featured stories were from the African continent. Bill Bryson, an expert traveler and superb writer, is also a store favorite. The children’s and young adults’ sections are equally impressive in their tasteful selections (finally, Captain Underpants wasn’t the first thing to see). Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree and Falling Up are given a prime spotlight in the center shelving. Classics by Eric Carle and Ian Falconer are also among best in the collection. Seeing the flash of pink lipstick from the Eloise cover was enough to provide a momentary flashback to my childhood and I was reminded of the simpler reads that brought me so much joy. In the adolescents’ area, it was pleasing to see that superficial reads like The Clique series were nowhere in sight. The titles, ranging from Beverly Cleary’s Ramona and Beezus and Sarah Dessen’s The Truth About Forever, signify the message that Kramerbooks is attempting to say to its younger customers: substance is key. Despite its location in the heart of a political district, Kramerbooks displays no such partisanship in its inventory. Though there are books to satisfy the future politician, they do not represent an overbearing presence in the store as one might imagine. Of course, the newest from Bill O’Reilly and Chris Matthews take center stage in the front, but most people flocked to the likes of James Patterson to satisfy their leisure time. However, in light of the recent government shutdown, a few customers seemed to be inspired and walked away with Ira Shapiro’s The Last Great Senate: Courage and Statesmanship in Times of Crisis. The second half of the establishment’s name, Afterwords Café, is not to be missed. Almost completely hidden if one walks into the front entrance of the bookstore, the café is bumped out into a mod interior with a sky-high ceiling and mirrored walls and extends into an outdoor patio setting. The menu is surprisingly sophisticated and vegetarian friendly, and is noted for its healthy alternatives. According to a waitress, the weekend brunches and Saturday evening suppers are when the café is at its busiest. It is known to host many of Washington’s prominent politicians for lunch as well. For brunch, a lovely complimentary plate of assorted mini pastries and fruit is offered as a starter. The recommended crab cake sandwich was not overwhelming in size and had a side of tangy greens that complemented it well. A bustling and enthusiastic staff contributed greatly in making the dining experience exceptional. Dining aside, Kramerbooks & Afterwords reminds D.C. that reading is an adventure. It is reminiscent of “The Shop Around the Corner” from the film You’ve Got Mail in its charm, but differs in that it will not be defeated by the corporate bookstore across the street. In other words, Kramerbooks is here to stay. Address: 1517 Connecticut Avenue, NW, Washington, D.C. 20036 Hours: 7:30 AM-1AM daily, 24 hours Friday & Saturday Live Music Wednesday-Saturday night

Jessica Perry November 13, 2013 | 10:09am EST November is a lazy month for most. Football, turkey-induced naps, and shopping trump any real world obligations. Meanwhile, several hundred thousand others spend the month slumped over a laptop with cup after cup of coffee. So how do the authors of Water for Elephants, The Night Circus, and Persistence of Memory fit into this equation? They are part of the “Wrimo tribe”: the overcaffeinated, overworked participants of National Novel Writing Month. This yearly event- NaNoWriMo for short- requires participants to write at least 50,000 words between the first and 30th of November. That averages to about 1,667 words per day. Intense time constraints leave no room for overthinking. Though it might seem crazy, many complete this challenge. The aforementioned authors are part of over 250 traditionally published NaNoWriMo authors and countless other self-publishers. They joined online at www.nanowrimo.org, where anyone can publicly post their novel information, update their word count, and connect with tons of other writers and resources. The best part about NaNoWriMo? It’s a 501©(3) nonprofit which works with local communities to empower worldwide creativity. They offer regional workshops, write-ins, and motivational speeches to expand their offline presence. Specialized branches focus on integrating creative writing into educational systems, prisons, juvenile halls, and more. I am continually impressed by this organization. Admittedly I failed the challenge eight years in a row. But I have gained so much more than the competition I lost. I have learned to not fear deadlines, but use them to move forward faster, to not be intimidated by others’ work, but inspired, and to reach out when I’m stuck. Most importantly, I met unexpected writer friends who support me year-round. I am inspired not only by those involved, but by the premise that personal limitations can be broken by external motivation. I have walked away from this year after year knowing I’m a more confident writer- and confidence is the most effective enemy to employ against creative self-doubt. What keeps me hooked on NaNoWriMo is the idea that everyone has a story to share. Whether you’re a student, an auto worker, unemployed, an engineer, or a retiree, you can walk away a novelist. NaNoWriMo believes everyone deserves the chance to try. All you have to do is join the tribe and jump in. Who knows where you’ll end up?

Jessica Perry November 13, 2013 | 10:09am EST November is a lazy month for most. Football, turkey-induced naps, and shopping trump any real world obligations. Meanwhile, several hundred thousand others spend the month slumped over a laptop with cup after cup of coffee. So how do the authors of Water for Elephants, The Night Circus, and Persistence of Memory fit into this equation? They are part of the “Wrimo tribe”: the overcaffeinated, overworked participants of National Novel Writing Month. This yearly event- NaNoWriMo for short- requires participants to write at least 50,000 words between the first and 30th of November. That averages to about 1,667 words per day. Intense time constraints leave no room for overthinking. Though it might seem crazy, many complete this challenge. The aforementioned authors are part of over 250 traditionally published NaNoWriMo authors and countless other self-publishers. They joined online at www.nanowrimo.org, where anyone can publicly post their novel information, update their word count, and connect with tons of other writers and resources. The best part about NaNoWriMo? It’s a 501©(3) nonprofit which works with local communities to empower worldwide creativity. They offer regional workshops, write-ins, and motivational speeches to expand their offline presence. Specialized branches focus on integrating creative writing into educational systems, prisons, juvenile halls, and more. I am continually impressed by this organization. Admittedly I failed the challenge eight years in a row. But I have gained so much more than the competition I lost. I have learned to not fear deadlines, but use them to move forward faster, to not be intimidated by others’ work, but inspired, and to reach out when I’m stuck. Most importantly, I met unexpected writer friends who support me year-round. I am inspired not only by those involved, but by the premise that personal limitations can be broken by external motivation. I have walked away from this year after year knowing I’m a more confident writer- and confidence is the most effective enemy to employ against creative self-doubt. What keeps me hooked on NaNoWriMo is the idea that everyone has a story to share. Whether you’re a student, an auto worker, unemployed, an engineer, or a retiree, you can walk away a novelist. NaNoWriMo believes everyone deserves the chance to try. All you have to do is join the tribe and jump in. Who knows where you’ll end up?

Nolan Miller November 12, 2013 | 5:19pm EST American University’s chapter of React to Film is a documentary film club geared towards raising awareness about important social issues through organizing free documentary screenings on campus twice a semester. How to Make Money Selling Drugs was shown this past Tuesday (11/5) for the club’s last film of the semester. Even after cramming in a few more additional rows of chairs and having standing room in the back, there was still barely enough room to fit everyone. Apparently students at American University are looking at every avenue possible for ways to cut down on their ever increasing tuition fees. The film itself describes how to “level up” through the ranks of the illegal drug trade, from recreational user all the way to cartel lord. Unfortunately, the comic video game imagery weaved throughout and a couple semi-surprising facts are just about the only elements that set the film apart from the tidal wave of drug related movies that have been released over the last twenty or so years. All fictional and documentary drug films seem to follow the same formula: First, ease into the subject lightly with lots of smiling druggies describing how fun illegal substances can be and how quickly you can make stacks of cash by entering the drug trade. Build on that high by moving to seductive depictions of the lavish, pleasure-filled lifestyle that could potentially be yours if you are willing to take some big risks and start selling “weight,” i.e. larger and larger amounts of drugs. Then suddenly change to a depressing tone to surprise the audience with in depth descriptions and examples of how completely the lifestyle can ruin you and those you love. Finally, wrap up with some statistics and/or tears that slam home how drugs and the drug war perpetuate violence and addiction with massive costs to the poor for the general benefit of the politicians and the drug kingpins. How to Make Money Selling Drugs follows the structure I just explicated to the letter, in addition to not presenting any strikingly new insights about drug policy, trade or abuse for anyone who is familiar with the United States’ drug war. Thus, the film’s strength is in the coherence of its presentation of the conflict, not in any radical reinterpretations of, or captivating and original information on the subject itself. The panel after the film, however, was a great bookend to the event. Comprised of two interviewees featured in the film, Eric Sterling, president of the Criminal Justice Policy Foundation, and Neil Franklin, executive director of the Law Enforcement Against Prohibition (LEAP), the panel presented opinions not explicitly stated or fully developed in How to Make Money Selling Drugs. Responding to questions from the audience, both panelists explained their own roles they have adopted in the war against the war on drugs, what each thought was the best path to achieving deregulation in the U.S., and then how drugs should be managed by the government in a post-drug war society. Even considering my misgivings about the film itself, React to Film’s event was, undeniably, a huge success. The screening attracted men and women of all ages and the discussion with the panelists was lively and stimulating. What remains to be seen is how many drug czars the event will produce on campus. Below is a quote about the club and last Tuesday’s event from Amanda Zimmerman, one of the co-heads of React to Film along with Emily Zabaleta and AmLit’s very own co-editor-in-chief, Samantha Falewee. “I’ve been one of the REACT to FILM AU Chapter Leaders since my sophomore fall semester and it has been amazing watching the organization transform over the years. Our screening of How to Make Money Selling Drugs was by far our most successful screening yet. We had almost 100 people come out and we really tried to make the experience of the screening unique. Over the course of the past year, we’ve taken on 13 new team members who deal with event aspects ranging from marketing to graphic design to social media. REACT to FILM AU is not just about watching awesome documentaries, it’s become a creative outlet for the students involved and an interactive viewing experience for all those who come to our screenings.”

Tiffany Wong November 5, 2013 | 6:28pm EST On the first Friday of every month, DC art lovers gather in Dupont Circle for First Fridays, a night when galleries stay open later than usual to debut new works. Free wine and snacks are served, but, more importantly, visitors can meet the artists themselves and even snag some art firsthand. These independent galleries, typically “rest stops” for those making a pilgrimage to the Phillips Collection, are housed in brownstone-like buildings with welcoming staircases and worn white walls. Several R Street galleries participate in First Fridays, some of which are conveniently situated one after another. For November’s First Friday, AmLit visits two: Alex Galleries and Studio Gallery. Alex Galleries Our first stop is the Alex Gallery – the first floor gallery of its overarching plural, Alex Galleries – where the recent works of Judith Judy are currently on display. Here, the scene is quiet as viewers weave in and out of its rooms. Judy’s current exhibit features landscapes of various sizes that juxtapose a blurred scene with clear uses of artistic technique. In “Green Tree Mountain,” a tree of blues, greens, and grays sits atop a slight hill. Although the overall painting is one that will make viewers want to rub their eyes, Judy’s concentration on brushstrokes and painting methods is undeniable. Close-up of Judith Judy’s “Green Tree Mountain” Next is Studio Gallery, Washington’s oldest cooperative gallery that is equally owned by 32 artists who regularly exhibit in the space. Tonight, a white-haired, bow-tied Eugene Markowski can be seen working the rooms of Studio Gallery’s first floor, an art space more bustling than our last gallery. Close-up of Markowski’s “Early Cosmos” In the artist’s exhibit, Cosmologies, Markowski depicts his perception of Einstein’s equations of gravity and accelerating gravity with controlled color palettes and materials such as homosote, wood, modeling paste, acrylic, and metallic paint – materials that are all unforgiving, especially when used with purpose and precision. Citing Leonardo da Vinci as one of his inspirations, Markowski says, “What I got from him was his interest in mathematics, the equations in nature, and the construction of machinery. He, in my mind, was the first artist to bridge art and science.” Eugene Markowski with “Message from Mars” at Studio Gallery A painting and sculpting minor as an undergraduate, the artist says that he moved away from flat painting because the art form wasn’t achieving a sense of depth that satisfied him. After years of experimentation, Markowski finally found a happy medium that combines both painting and sculpture, but is continuously discovering new ways to combine art and science. “I see the beauty in the mathematics and in the equations,” he says. “What I’m doing here is translating the elegance and magnificence of Einstein’s equations, plus the cosmos itself” ——- Judith Judy’s exhibit at Alex Galleries will be open until November 30. 2106 R Street, NW Eugene Markowski’s exhibit at Studio Gallery will be open until November 23. 2108 R Street, NW