Catching up with Josh Sherman

I am really excited to have found my way back into this. It's just a rambling conversation with a friend.

I admit I didn’t really feel drawn to Holly’s book and waited till I had finished the other Autofocus books before I got to hers. There was something in me, probably inherently misogynistic, that didn’t want to give space to this story of mothers and daughters even though I am a mother with daughters. I find myself looking for escape when I read, not in the form of sci-fi or fantasy usually, but in the debauched experience of someone young and inconsequential. Holly is me and I am Holly. We are not allowed to escape our lives. Our bad decisions are now our lifelong responsibilities. We were never carefree and it shows. For Holly, her heaviness was the claustrophobia of religious homeschooling and her first tentative flight away from that life quickly led to pregnancy and the adoption of her daughter. Her book, Cleave, is about facing that decision as an adult and living with the way it settled in her. It was not an escape to read Cleave (Autofocus Books, 2022) but it stayed with me like no other book in our indie-lit community gas. It made me proud and furious and so relieved to be in the company of another writer-mother who accepts womb-deep pain. 

Caleb Caudell released his first book of autofiction, Hardly Working (Bonfire Press, 2024) detailing his daily struggles as a low-wage worker, and how the drudgery of that grind adds up to larger existential commentary. Caleb is chronically unhappy, pessimistic, and hopeless when it comes to the future. I don't want to sugar coat it. This book is hard to read. Unrelenting in its documentation of society crumbling before our very eyes, should we ever bother to look. But Caleb's acknowledgement of his own pain and baser instincts keeps Hardly Working from becoming a beatification of the writer in the face of ruthless capitalism. By focusing on his own failings – whether erectile dysfunction or a shitty resume – Caleb brings the reader so close to the magnifying glass, you can smell the ants fry.

Shane Anderson's book appeared in my store. I don't know how it came to me but as I was restacking on a glum June day, I found it, After the Oracle Or: How the Golden State Warriors' Four Core Values Can Change Your Life Like They Changed Mine (Deep Vellum, 2021). It's an unmistakably self-helpy title and I don't have any connection to basketball, but I was intrigued about the author. Shane and I both lived in Berlin for the same long stretch, give or take a year. We never met but we are contemporaries. I wanted to read about his life in this city. I wanted to see if his sentiments matched my own. As I read, I learned that they did and that he was sunk into a place of almost inescapable darkness. WARNING: THIS INTERVIEW & SHANE'S BOOK MENTIONS ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. Shane's rock bottom led him to a path of dedication to self improvement. He focused on the values of Joy, Mindfulness, Compassion and Competition which were also followed by his favorite basketball team. It sounds simple and hoaky but because of who Shane is--a sensitive writer, an intellectual contemporary who is laying bare his struggles and how he found an answer--I believe his book might be a lifeline for people who think they're too jaded for lifelines.

Forrest Muelrath is having a moment with the release of his first book, a slim novella called The Valeries (Expat Press 2024). I read the interview Forrest did with Expat's founder and notable Self Exposure mention Manny Marrero, which I found edifying, and which deepened my understanding of both men. This interview is the Yang to that interview's Yin. It's spontaneous, unplanned, and full of human fallibility and abundant conversation about the literary use of incest. Enjoy!

Josh documents the recent reading at the KGB bar in NYC, organized by Pig Roast Publishing. We talk about meeting writers like Jesse Hilsson and Derek Maine IRL, about tone deaf moments, and episodes we're planning for the future.

Brad Listi, best known as the host of the otherppl podcast, tried to write a few different books before he settled on the unique form of Be Brief and Tell Them Everything (Ig Publishing, 2022). It is a book written in defiance of the idea of writing the perfect book: a collection of punchy paragraphs; a document designed to release thoughts, impressions, loose recollections; a middle aged attempt to make sense of your life. That's a really hard sell for people who think of books and reading as an escape, or as a finely honed thing that requires certainty to sculpt. Brad's Book turned two a couple months ago and Brad himself will turn fifty on August 1st. I've been a fan for a long time and I was surprised and delighted that he was willing to come on my tiny podcast. We talk about work, about politics, about Gen X  and autofiction.

You'll either find this episode juicy or uncomfortable, probably both. At one point, a mother and her adult son come into my store while Kat and I are recording and, while browsing for vintage homeware, are forced to endure our deepest admissions about sexuality, gender, and whether we'll ever be happy. I know this is totally unprofessional. I know it's a mistake to record while the store is open and submit potential customers to this insanity, but the conversation I was having was so important and so life affirming, I just couldn't help it. Fucking Kat Giordano is a rockstar! Who can take their deepest, most muddled thoughts and transmute them into poetry like Kat? Who among us is nervy enough to ride that line between controlled prose and naked chaos? To make themselves look creepy and attention starved and disgustingly human? It's a great risk and a great honor to listen to Kat read from Thumbsucker (Malarkey Books (2024) and to trace their journey with non-binary identity. Kat and I are two gerbils in  a world full of hamsters and it's absolutely wild to meet another gerbil because for a few minutes, you feel whole.

I reached out to Tyler Dempsey of Another Fucking Writing Podcast and Tyler of LoFi Lit. We were moving in such similar circles and I wanted to officially give us a chat space to chum around, support each other, and complain about fucked up shit. The name I gave our chat is Filthy Headphones and Dead Air. We talked, early on, about the overlaps between our podcasts and how there’s room for all of us. Each of us is a brown soda: Dr. Pepper, Coke and root beer (I’m root beer). Particular flavors for particular moods and no one’s gonna turn down a cold brown soda? When it’s consistently been sweet and tangy and effervescent on the tongue! It’s nice to get to know writers but it’s nice to get to know your hosts as well. In the end, you come back for that interplay. 

It felt good to talk to Graham about his second book, I Have A Gun. It was lovely to have Derek there. The conversation went in weird directions. We talked about our racist grandparents. At times it felt like an impromptu support group and I know this is dangerous. Is it dangerous? Doesn't every practitioner of something painstaking want to talk to other people who do the same thing and bond over shared struggles? Graham's book is skillful at pulling the reader in and then antagonizing that same reader to push them away. I think all writers are capable of sycophancy and that we're equally, if not not more capable of retaliation and retribution. There's something about being gifted with language and observation that makes you a low-level sociopath and an outright psychopath if you're not careful. Derek DMd me after the talk with Graham and said, "I think that went well, what about you?" and I told him I don't even think of it on those terms. It's just a documentary project to me. But that's not entirely true. I live for a DM like that.