Reflecting on 120 Days of Brutality - Christopher Nosnibor


Perhaps it seems strange to make an event of a book’s four months in existence. The conventional approach is to create a buzz in the run-up to publication, launch with a big fanfare and then sit back and watch it all happen – or sink without trace. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, not only since entering the publishing world, but also as a keen reader, is that books have a slow diffusion. It takes time for word to get around, and for reviews to appear. Besides, being conventional was never part of the plan when establishing Clinicality Press.
I don’t feel the need to explain the origins of Clinicality here, or the concept behind Clinical Brutality as a mode of writing, or the way the anthology came together: that’s all in the introduction in the book. But what’s happened post-publication has been quite exciting and remains largely undocumented. Having jointly devised the idea and the book’s general format, Stuart (that’s Stuart Bateman, co-founder and the other half of the Clinicality Operation) essentially left me to my own devices for the tasks of editing and design. In turn, he did a lot of the promotional work. The first stage was pretty conventional: press releases, blog postings on MySpace, and so on, and circulating a substantial number of copies to reviewers ahead of publication. This succeeded in generating some buzz, and a fair number of the contributors got on board with some truly heroic plugging via their own blogs and websites. Consequently, the launch went pretty well, especially for a book published on  zero budget and with a very niche target audience (at least in the scheme of things), and also considering that not a single review had surfaced by the publication date.

Meanwhile, I got to interviewing some of the contributors. I could have sent out a standard questionnaire by email, but, being me, made life hard for myself and spent time researching and devising questions tailored to each writer. It was time-consuming (and I’m still not done conducting the last of the interviews yet), but the results made it entirely worthwhile, with some staggeringly detailed and insightful responses. I’d almost go so far as to say that the interviews are as exciting as the works in the collection. And that’s saying something!

Stuart and I were both struggling to balance our paid work commitments and our commitment to the book when it came out, and we decided within just a few weeks that it could have been even better had we had more time in the run-up to the publication, had we posted the launch as an event on MySpace and so on, and had there been a couple of reviews or so to quote, and it was then that we began to consider the possibility of a re-launch. It didn’t take long for the idea of ‘120 Days of Brutality’ to strike: what could be more fitting and more timely? Not because the book’s a celebration of sadism, but because at the heart of the aesthetic of Clinical Brutality lies a fascination with and an exploration of extremity, of the violence individuals inflict on one another, for kicks, for survival, for no discernible reason whatsoever. Plus, adapting a popular phrase or title is a great way of getting hits from people searching for other things that are more than vaguely associated, while referencing is a recognised way of hinting what your ‘thing’ is about or like.

Personally, I think that the Marquis de Sade is one of the greatest comic writers of all time. I’m not being completely contentious for the sake of it here: read a certain way, the catalogue of brutality that is 120 Days of Sodom is one man attempting to detail the most extreme acts his imagination can conceive. There is no way in the world that anyone could, or would, be able to actually perform all of the acts described, and of the ‘murderous passions,’ I have to wonder if anyone would really get off on the idea of pouring molten lead into someone’s ear, or the laborious process of impregnating someone with the sole purpose of waiting nine months to deliver a baby with a view to ‘embuggering’ it and then throwing it into a fire. It’s not real-life violence, it’s someone sitting in a room thinking ‘what would be really out there?... how about this? And then, this...’ It’s fantasy violence. Some of the violence is, when read in a certain way, pure Tom and Jerry (consider the countless occasions when Tom gets blown up or his tongue nailed to the floor or his skin peeled off, only to get up again and bounce back for another round of physical abuse. In this context, Tom is an extreme Masochist, and thus the perfect foil for the extreme Sadist Jerry). I mention this because the extremities of Clinical, Brutal are also, in many instances, comedic. Blackly so, but humorous nevertheless.

There’s not only perverse humour in the stories and poems themselves, but in the language used to construct them. I can say with confidence that all of the writers who contributed have a strong appreciation of language, and positively revel in exploring new forms of expression, ways to convey ideas with clarity and power, but not entirely without humour or wit. The incongruities forged by the juxtaposition of clinical or medical terminology with straight literary writing styles or narrative styles more commonly found in pulp fiction are both striking and funny.

The reviews have now begun to appear: two on Bookpleasures, one at ReaderViews and another on MySpace. Of those, two have also been posted to Amazon.com, with four and five stars. Not bad for a book that many might find a little hard to stomach. I guess it just goes to show that quality writing can win over even more sceptical readers, and it’s quite apparent that the reviewers have reviewed the book objectively, giving neither blanket praise or blind condemnation and noting that some of the pieces appeal to them more than others. I’d consider that a good thing: we don’t want to please all of the people all of the time. Pleasingly, the reviews that have surfaced – and we’re now certain of more to follow – note both the presence of humour and the striking nature of the book, which extends through the contents and the cover. Some of the quotes are brilliant, and ‘there were several times that I felt like I was going to hurl while reading this book,’ is definitely one of our favourites.

It’s not just the critics who’ve been (perhaps surprisingly) kind: Clinicality, and I personally, have had some extremely positive feedback from readers, who, far from finding the book repellent or gratuitous, have experienced it as exhilarating, even inspiring, having opened their eyes to new kinds of expression. Excerpts have been read on Internet radio shows, and people – perfect strangers – have been getting fired up by the book. Stuart and I had always hoped (but only secretly, as there was so much danger of disappointment) that Clinical Brutality would become something bigger, an aesthetic adopted by more than just us, and by more than just those who contributed to the book. There are signs that might be starting to happen. While there was never any desire to create a ‘movement,’ there is evidence of a certain strand of writing that compliment Clinicality Press’ objectives, as represented by Paraphilia Magazine and Antique Children Quarterly. Plus, there are indications that the coinage is beginning to spread: Constance Stadler, in a recent interview, suggested her own work was heading in a direction that focused on ‘clinical brutalities.’

So now seems like a good time to reflect on our achievements. We’ve produced a book of which we’re immensely proud. Credit, of course, must go to all of the excellent contributors, for whom there just aren’t sufficient superlatives. I’ll admit that we would have liked to have sold more copies, but then, we’ll never be satisfied until the book achieves a complete ubiquity: nothing short of world domination will ever be enough. But, in the 120 days the book has been out, it’s achieved a hell of a lot. Who knows what could happen in the next 120 days? Ok, so Clinical, Brutal might not change the world, but it might change your life, or your thinking on literature. Of course I want everyone to buy it and read it. But failing that, stealing it, sharing it and reading it is ok with us. And whatever you do, stay brutal.

CN


Order your copy of Clinical, Brutal... An Anthology of Writing With Guts direct from Clinicality Press by clicking here.