Byline: IAIN DONNELLY

Meat-eaters flock to the latest Aussie steak joint

“One thing you can’t do with babies, you can’t give them steak” – Flavor Flav.

Given the sage words of Flavor Flav, it was just as well we didn’t have any babies in tow when we visited Black Salt, as steak is what they are fast becoming renowned for in this stylish little eatery.

With five separate function areas to choose from, we decided to take advantage of the cool night air and sat on the picturesque front terrace. The restaurant was quiet, which allowed for the friendly Khmer waitstaff to be very attentive, and even apologetic at the lack of ingredients for fruit shakes.

Having already perused the menu from the comfort of home, I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to choose, but my companion for the evening was a little indecisive in choosing a main course. We decided to order a plate of pan fried salt and pepper calamari to share as an entrée. Cooked in olive oil and served with a wonderful rocket salad in a crispy rice paper bowl, these were just how good calamari should be: slightly chewy and full of flavour while avoiding being overpowering. The accompanying salad was light and dressed perfectly. This has to be one of my favourite starters to date.

To the main show and time to see what all the excitement was about. I plumped (and after this meal, “plumped” is the right word) for the Australian grass-fed tenderloin, served with mashed potatoes and vegetables and a Kampot pepper sauce. To say the steak had me convulsing in paroxysms (there you go, ed.) of carnivorous delight would possibly be the understatement of the year. This truly was a steak cooked to perfection. Full of taste, juicy and complemented by the Kampot pepper sauce, I can’t recall a finer bit of beef since arriving in Cambodia. The mashed potato could have been cooked slightly better, but this was a small gripe when compared to the impeccable meat and vegetables.

I was hoping that the sidekick would also choose something from the carnivore’s cornucopia of beef but, crying lack of appetite, she settled for the chicken and avocado sandwich, served on toasted homemade bread with cheese and mayonnaise with hand cut fries. While this is something I’d more choose for lunch rather than dinner, I do have to say that this is one of the better sandwiches I’ve sampled in the ‘Penh. The homemade bread was light and tasty with none of the doughiness you often find. The combination of fillings was extensive, leaving a smile of gastronomic satisfaction on both our faces. While I wouldn’t dwell on talking about fries too often, these were, again, some of the nicest I have yet to eat here.

Starters range from $4 to $5, and mains from $4 (for the sandwich) to $20 for a 300g T-Bone. The menu also features seafood, lamb and pasta. Definitely not the venue of choice for all you lettuce munchers out there, but if you’re a red meat loving carnivore like me then Black Salt has to go on your “must-visit” list.

Black Salt. 196z Street 19

Tears of a clown

A heartbroken Western clown wanders the Cambodian countryside. Dressed in a neat red and gold tunic with standard-issue comically oversized shoes associated with such folk, he leaves in his wake a slew of baffled and bemused Cambodians not entirely sure what it is they’ve just witnessed. As two very disparate cultures gently collide, a series of increasingly meaningful happy accidents begins to piece back together the shattered circus entertainer.

To watch Inside The Belly Of A Dragon, a late entry into this month’s Cambodian International Film Festival, is to consider Cambodia in a surprising new light. British co-directors/writers Ian Wiggins and Hugh W Brown were determined there would be none of the usual Western stereotypes in their feature-length offering – screening at the festival alongside other much-anticipated movies, including John Pirozzi’s Khmer rock ‘n’ roll epic Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten, and The Last Reel by Sotha Kulikar. No drunken barangs, no girly bar scenes and no dreadlocked backpackers getting high at full moon parties. Instead, a beautifully shot and at times touchingly personal journey through the nation’s landscape and the lives of its people.

Of his start in filmmaking, Wiggins, now based in Sihanoukville, says: “I was working for British Rail and when it was privatised; my section had no boss and no real work for over three months, so a friend and I made a gangster film using other staff as actors and our workplace as the set. From there I went on to make the first version of Tache Force, which became a bit of an internet hit.” From there he met Brown on a filmmaking mission in Ream.

The results of an initial collaboration in the historic enclaves of Sihanoukville Railway Station, Inside The Belly Of A Dragon is ample inspiration to seek out the stunning and often offbeat locations used throughout the film. “We both had some ideas in advance but we did a recce two months before starting filming,” says Wiggins. “It was Hugh who found the Dragon Mountain and cave near Kampot that became the film’s title as well as the location for the closing scenes. We also found some great locations in Kirirom National Park; a truly breathtaking part of Cambodia that is often missed by tourists.

“My two favourite scenes would have to be the ones in the rice field with the farmers, and the one with Kong Nay. Kong Nay is such a legendary figure, but also hugely funny and great company. The rice field scenes were just so natural; you wouldn’t believe they weren’t scripted or rehearsed. As to least favourite; that’s an easy choice. The final concert scenes in the cave were a total nightmare; not from any technical perspective, but purely because I had a hellish dose of dengue fever at the time, which made doing anything immensely difficult.”
There’s no storyline with Inside The Belly Of A Dragon per se, nor is there any dialogue, but there is an underlying premise that’s revealed towards the end (some directors might have left such discoveries to the more astute observer, but Wiggins and Brown reasoned that mixed audiences might miss the subtext). Silence can indeed be golden, due here to two factors: the leading man (Brown) and the at-times unwitting cast of Khmer extras.

As an actor, Brown wouldn’t seem out of place in the golden age of silent cinema: his comic timing and use of facial expressions to convey thoughts and emotions is at times Chaplinesque in its genius. The Irishman is a long-time circus, theatre and film performer, and since first coming to Cambodia ten years ago, has been involved in everything from school teaching to directing the original M’Lop Tapang carnival. He also has an alter-ego as Jitterbug Jackson, with credits including two appearances at the Street Performance World Championships.

The local ‘extras’, meanwhile, are often unaware of the rolling cameras and the capturing of their interaction with the strange barang clown roaming their lands. Wiggins achieved this through his use of low-tech camera equipment: the film is shot mainly with a Black Magic pocket cinema camera, and a Canon 5D for the wide shots. Their unobtrusive nature allowed Ian to shoot stills of the locals then, once they’d lost interest, return to filming their reactions. It’s a strategy that produces some wonderful moments, from the rice farmers to the numerous street scenes. There are also cameo appearances from the great Kong Nay, the Cambodian Space Project and Kampot’s Epic Arts.

As with the greatest films of the silent era, here music replaces dialogue. Ethereal dream sequences are scored perfectly, holding the whole film together. While Wiggins won’t admit to any particular influence, there are moments that feel vaguely familiar. There are shades of DW Griffith (without the Klan references), and the nature shots at times bring to mind Reggio’s Koyaanisqatsi. The surreal scene at the old film set in Ream is vintage David Lynch at his very best. And there can be no mention of directorial influence without giving a nod to Wiggin’s very own Hitchcock-style cameo in the final scenes. At times magical, at times eye opening, this is a refreshing view of Cambodia by outside eyes minus the usual clichés.

A final word from Wiggins: “I didn’t really know much about the festival and, by the time I did, the date for entries had passed, but another filmmaker I’m friends with sent a copy in and the committee loved it and asked if they could show it. Now I’m just hoping the audiences like it as much as they did. As to my next project, I’m considering a documentary made up of interviews and flashbacks set during the Khmer Rouge era. I’ve unearthed a very personal story that’s quite close to home, but I’d rather not say too much about it just now…”

WHO: Movie buffs
WHAT: Cambodian International Film Festival
WHERE: Full details at cambodia-iff.com
WHEN: December 5 – 10
WHY: “Cinema is the ultimate pervert art. It doesn’t give you what you desire – it tells you how to desire.” – Slavoj Žižek

Dish: The Duck: Retooled, Revisted

“If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands.”

– Douglas Adams

My tyrannical but lovely editor (WHAT?! – Ed.) had called me on the Advisor hotline: “Right, boy wonder; The Duck has a new menu. Get over there pronto and give us the lowdown.” (I would never say that – Ed.)

I have to admit; many of the eateries on Sothearos have passed me by till now, so it was onto the mighty Cray super-computer (Google) to do some research. Sure enough, there was a new menu, and it was enough to drive a guy quackers with culinary temptation. So into the trusty tukmobile I hopped with my errant sidekick and off we headed.

First impressions were favourable; the restaurant stands out from its neighbours and once you’re inside you could be in a classy bistro anywhere in the world. Dark wood décor sets off contemporary art prints to great effect, though I sort of hope the personalised graffiti on the walls is temporary as it rather detracts from the overall ambience.

And so to the food, or at least the cocktails. The Duck offers an imaginatively customised range of cocktails at $4. I plumped for the Angkor Sunset, a twist on an old favourite comprising Malibu, cointreau, coconut cream, pineapple juice, grenadine and Havana rum. Utterly delicious and certainly moreish, though the sunset element appeared to be missing and I wonder if they were out of grenadine. Sidekick opted for a classic marguerite, which pushed all the right buttons.

I already had an idea of what I would be sampling, but Sidekick managed to thwart those plans by ordering the pan-fried red snapper, extra virgin olive oil, prawn bisque, wilted spinach and roasted baby potatoes in my place. My occasional foray onto her plate drew frowns from her but smiles from me. The snapper was cooked within a millimetre of perfection and the accompaniments complemented the fish perfectly.

I’d ordered the duck-and-mushroom spring rolls with sweet chili-lime dipping sauce as a shared starter, but in the Asian tradition, they didn’t arrive till halfway through our mains. The spring rolls were divine, but the sauce was a let-down: basically a small bowl of tomato ketchup with a hint of lime in it. Having sampled spring rolls everywhere from Glasgow to Beijing, I have to ruffle the owner’s feathers and say this was not the best sauce I’ve so far been served, but disappointment was soon eclipsed by gastronomic ecstasy as my main dish arrived: handmade potato gnocchi with slow-braised Australian beef cheek ragout. In just one bite I was transported to a carnivore’s Elysium: one of the finest bits of beef I’ve tasted in Asia, that slow braising bringing it to the point where it melts in your mouth. The handmade gnocchi were perhaps the finest to pass this reviewer’s lips since Da Gildo’s in Rome.

At this point, I thought I’d give The Duck another chance to ‘duck’ the critical points and so ordered a shared dessert: chocolate fondant, fresh cream and berry granita. If the beef had taken me to Elysium, this took me to Shangri-La. An almost immoral level of joy followed as the three ingredients combined on one spoon to produce smiles of monumental proportions. Starters range from $3 to $5.50, and mains from $5.50 to $22 so the bill (last duck pun, I promise) can be a tad pricey with drinks but is more than worth it.

The Duck, #49 Sothearos Boulevard;
089 823 704.

Dish: Misadventures Mexicano

Now, I usually never write a negative review. Instead I try to concentrate on the positives, while offering constructive criticism. But last night’s restaurant visit left me struggling to find any positives at all. A late text at work on Friday suggested dinner out with my friend and his wife (and their gorgeous new baby, but enough of my broodiness). My friend’s wife suggested Anise; a popular restaurant on oh-so-trendy Street 278, so I headed down to the gathering place of younger expats and young, upwardly mobile Khmers.

First impressions were favourable: the terrace is screened from the carbon monoxide-soaked street outside by bamboo, plants and trees, and the décor inside hints at something Parisian and inviting. I was warmed to my frugal Scottish heart to see that not only was it happy hour, but that Anise served passion-fruit margaritas, a favourite of mine when I used to haunt Charley Brown’s Mexicana in Bangkok. Waiting for my dining partners, I took the opportunity to see if Phnom Penh could beat Bangkok on my favourite cocktail. Alas, it fell a little short: not enough passion or fruit. But my spirits remained high when I spotted two more of my Charley Brown favourites on the menu: spicy chicken wings and beef chimichanga.

My fellow diners chose swiftly, too. Ciaran was swayed by a neighbouring table’s ginger chicken; his wife, Ces, plumped for beef rolls as a starter, with caramelised pork and tofu as main. The starters arrived fairly promptly, along with Ciaran’s main, and Ces was enthusiastic about her beef rolls: lightly fried beef with a variety of local vegetables wrapped in cabbage. My enthusiasm, however, was waning. Spicy chicken wings should be spicy, and although these were tasty, they were lacking in any spiciness and left me craving Soi 11 in Bangkok. Ciaran, in his eloquently Irish manner, described the ginger chicken as “OK, nothing special.”

Next to arrive was my chimichanga. Enthusiasm now plummeted towards despair. Nothing was right about this dish: the chimichanga was dry and lacking noticeable seasoning (Mexican food is meant to have taste!); the refried beans had been refried so often they’d raised the white flag, the rice was bland and tasteless and the salsa was as unimaginative as a Stephenie Meyer novel. The dream of reliving my nights in Charley Brown’s lay shattered on the (admittedly) exquisite terrace floor.

It got worse. Returning from the obligatory changing of the baby (changing the nappy, that is, not the actual baby) we enquired as to where the missing main course was. The waiter replied that none had been ordered and that it was our mistake because he’d read the order back to us. An event missed by three grown adults and one very small infant. No apologies, no admissions of guilt, just a finger pointed firmly at us.

All in all: far and away my worst dining experience at an eatery of this level, I’m sad to say. What had initially been impressive service was ruined by one obstinate waiter and a very disappointing standard of food characterised by blandness, lack of taste and certainly not up to what I was expecting. You have been warned.

Anise, #2c Street 278; 023 222522.

Dish: A feel-good foray into flavour

There’s a very good reason Sandan has consistently topped the list of restaurants in Sihanoukville on review sites such as Trip Advisor. And it’s not simply the altruism on which it was founded as part of NGO M’Lop Tapang, which trains disadvantaged Khmer youth in every aspect of the hospitality industry. No, it’s definitely the food: taking traditional Khmer and Asian dishes and giving them a modern twist/a sprinkling of magic. It’s also one of the most attractive eating spaces in this part of Cambodia; a veritable oasis of greenery and ambience that gently rocks you into relaxation before the food even arrives.

The menu has four main sections: salads and starters, fish and seafood, meat, and vegetarian options. Think spicy green papaya and cherry tomato salad with lime-and-palm-sugar dressing; braised clams with lemongrass and spicy basil; Khmer Muslim beef and peanut curry; pumpkin amok with zucchini and cauliflower (from $3 to $8).

There were three of us dining. Companion #1 went for the Khmer spicy grilled chicken kebabs with green papaya pickles ($4.50): perfection on a plate. Tender chicken with just the right level of spice for tourists, and flavoursome papaya pickles to tantalise; a moreish combo if ever there was one, as Companion #1 declared loudly.

Companion #2 (apologies if this is getting a little Tolkienesque) wandered into Seafood Mordor and ordered the stir-fried squid with green Kampot pepper, capsicum and Khmer rice wine. I’m not a huge squid fan, but the merging of multiple flavours, coupled with succulent squid, was enough to have Gollum pawning his ‘precious’. I would love to pass on Companion #2’s lengthy eloquence, but the only response I got was: “Nom, nom, nom.”

Finally, Gandalf The Grey got to eat (I really need some hair dye). I plumped for a variation of one of my favourite Khmer dishes: buffalo loklak with quail eggs and sweet-potato fries. Alas, first disappointment of the night: no quail eggs left, so chicken egg instead, but any concern the buffalo may be a little tough was dispelled immediately. The meat was beautifully tender and infused with flavours that had my gustatory perception somewhere in Rivendell. Divine, from the quality of the meat to the spiciness of the dipping sauce, this is the finest lok lak ever to pass this critic’s cynical lips.

Final word goes to the service. There’s an abundance of servers and they’re attentive, friendly and enthusiastic, but please remember they’re still in training. And be patient when they tell you the specials of the day: it’spart of their training and helps improve English-language skills at the same time.
Sandan Restaurant, #2 Thnou Street, Sihanoukville; 034 4524000.

Monkeys in space

“In space, race doesn’t matter, nationality doesn’t matter. In space, you see the world as a globe and you don’t see the boundaries.”

…..

You could say the same thing about music, and Cambodian Space Project are certainly a band seeing beyond nationalities and boundaries. After a chance meeting with renowned White Stripes producer Jim Diamond in Detroit last year, they decided to bring him on board for this new album, and the change has had tangible results. Electric Blue Boogaloo is a rock ‘n’ roll rollercoaster from start to finish. It’s difficult to give you a track-by-track review because the current titles are working ones only and may change by the time the album comes out in October. But Diamond’s influence rings out on every tune. Recorded in France, the album combines Diamond’s Detroit background with experiences from the band’s travels through Mexico, Europe, the US and Cambodia.

As always, there’s a distinctive ‘60s feel throughout, from those Manzarek-style keyboards to guitar that one minute evokes Link Wray, the next minute Glen Pragnell (Groovy Uncle) and, on more than one track, the amazing Stacy Sutherland. And the 13th Floor Elevators reference doesn’t end there. Two tracks, on which lead singer Kak Chanthy takes a back seat on vocals (working titles: Dirty Filthy Mud and Get On This Plane), transport you back to seedy bars in mid-‘60s Texas. You could almost be listening to that very first psychedelic band. But the mainstay of CSP has always been Chanthy’s soaring Khmer vocals and they again stand out throughout in a mix of Detroit, Phnom Penh and San Francisco. In Crunchy Khmer, the singer’s sense of humour shines through and you know this was as much fun to make as it is to listen to.

Il Sai Troppo Langa is pure Country & Western and you half expect John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd to appear, brandishing bullwhips and screaming ‘Rawhide!’ He’s Not There signals Thy’s return to lead vocals in a melodic flashback to 1960s Phnom Penh. Close your eyes and she’s grooving on stage in a psychedelic flower-power dress.

Demon Lover is more down-tempo and emotional. Translated, I wonder, will Chanthy’s lyrics match the way my mind interprets her words? Those Manzarek keyboards are at play again, a sound that sends shivers down my spine every time; the album’s ‘lighter-in-the-air’ moment, perhaps? This album is CSP’s best work to date and my review copy has been on repeat for weeks. With the band confirmed for Womad and Glastonbury 2015, I can’t be wrong.

Their next project, however, could go either way. I’ve never been a fan of rock operas (the one exception: Tommy), but that’s exactly the destination for Hanuman Spaceman, an ambitious piece of multimedia music theatre. It’s the tale of a space monkey that finds Soviet-era space junk in Cambodia and begins a quest to be the first monkey on the moon. The concept also reflects Chanthy’s personal journey, and draws both on ancient texts and modern pop culture.

Seize a rare local opportunity to catch CSP live on the second night of the Dara Puspita exhibition at Space Four Zero, which opens 6pm September 18. The Indonesian forerunner of Pussy Riot, Dara Puspita (‘Flower Girls’) were an all-girl group in the 1960s considered so shocking that then-President Sukarno labelled them “mentally deranged”, “Western imperialists”. Forced into exile in Europe, they were signed to Decca by a former Beatles manager; the first Southeast Asian band to crack the continent.

WHO: Cambodian Space Project
WHAT: Electric Blue Boogaloo
WHERE: Space Four Zero, #40 Street 118
WHEN: 8pm September 19
WHY: There are no boundaries in space

Dish: By the seashore

He sells spaghetti & sea fish by the seashore

Since Olive & Olive (so good they named it twice) first opened its doors in Sihanoukville, it’s been one of my favourite restaurants. It’s a distinctly Mediterranean eatery, offering dishes from the countries that border that sea. Even from the outside, the traditional wood-fired pizza oven and décor hints at somewhere on the Etruscan coast.

Succulent specials vary, including braised lamb shanks ($12) and fish papillot for two ($16): a wonderfully marinated fresh fish cooked in said wood-fired oven. Antipasti, salads and appetisers fall between $2 and $6, with free pitta bread, fresh from the oven, delivered gratis alongside a range of dips and a tasty mini pizza. For your main course, choose from dishes such as the penne in salsa di asparagi, beef fillet tartufata, or of course those wood-fired pizzas ($6 to $16).

My dining companion went for the spaghetti alla tonno e gambretti; a seafood pasta with fresh shrimps and tuna, extra virgin olive oil, white wine and fresh parsley. I couldn’t help sampling some, and the combination of sweet and sour flavours with fresh ingredients and succulent shrimps was pretty close to perfection.

With the sea just a few yards from our table, I also went for something that had been swimming freely a short time before: the slightly longwinded but sublime filetto di barracuda alla erbe aromatiche o al vino bianco (barracuda fillet with aromatic herbs and a white wine sauce). I’ve eaten barracuda all over the world, but this was a winner. Barracuda can be a funny fish to cook; a little too much cooking time, or not enough, can spoil the dish, so the chef has his timing just right and the balance of herbs and wine sauce complement it perfectly.

Alas, things began to go wrong when the waiter neglected to mention that around 75% of the dessert menu was not available (on a Wednesday?). Only two desserts were on offer – could they be the decadence we were hoping for? Something had changed since my last visit (or the pastry/dessert chef was on holiday). The Baileys Note, previously a masterpiece in presentation and taste, looked as if it had been lying in the fridge for days. This was also reflected in the taste: still pleasant, but nowhere near the sweet sensuality it previously embodied. The second dessert, a chocolate cream concoction, was better presented and tasted better, but this element of the menu needs work to get it back to what it once was. Finally, to end on a bright spot: look out for the presence of Olive & Olive’s owner, the ever-affable Mr Corey, who always makes a point of personally checking in on his diners.

Olive & Olive, Serendipity Road, Sihanoukville; 086 283151.

 

Dish: Red heaven

Sometimes you find great little restaurants in out-of-the-way places and that’s precisely the case with The Spot, a new eatery where Occhuteal beach meets Otres beach in Sihanoukville.

Owned by a Dubai/Russian couple and ably managed by veteran Aussie Dave, the star of The Spot is their Uzbeki chef, Kar. His fine pedigree includes being private chef for a Dubai-based millionaire for the last six years and Kar has now brought his skills to sleepy Snooky. The restaurant is already a hit with the local Russian community and it won’t be long until the rest of the jet-set catches on.

The menu revolves around beef and lamb: all top quality meat imported from Australia, which is reflected in higher-than-average prices, but boy oh boy is every extra cent justified. It’s a Bring Your Own Bottle restaurant, but offers a wide range of mocktails and Dave, a trained barista, offers a range of coffees, including an amazing peppermint mocha.

And so to the food. I had high expectations for the menu and wasn’t disappointed. I tried a sample menu; small portions of some of their best dishes. The only problem: what to choose on my next visit.

First to arrive were the Samsas, a sort of Uzbeki pasty made with the most amazing pastry and filled with chopped beef, onions and other vegetables. I have no idea what seasoning Kar uses, but these were delicious and served with a tomato dipping sauce: a filling starter that will have your taste buds vibrating in ecstasy.

Next up were the Kazan kebabs. I’m not a huge lamb fan, but this dish converted me. Succulent, perfectly cooked chunks of lamb coated in herbs and spices and served with the roast potatoes cooked in lamb fat. I could have happily sat with a plate of these all night: the phrase ‘taste sensation’ is used far too often, but in this case it’s justified. You have to order 24 hours in advance because the lamb is slow cooked, but it’s well worth the proper planning.

Beef stroganoff is a fairly standard dish, but can be hard to get just right. Kar takes it beyond right, into some corner of orgasmic culinary heaven I want to live in forever. The beef is melt-in-your-mouth good; cooked and seasoned better than any other stroganoff I’ve ever tried, and served with a mashed-potato pancake that complements it perfectly. Plus the restaurant plans to make this and the eggplant caviar available in local supermarkets.

Last up was the plov: fluffy rice with a blend of vegetables and seasoning and more of that perfectly cooked lamb that seems to be an Uzbeki staple. This dish is so well balanced with flavours that it could walk a tightrope, though in this case it dived straight towards my stomach.

The menu offers plenty more to explore, from soups and salads to pastries, plus there’s a vegetarian version, so don’t think it’s purely a carnivore’s paradise. Prices range from $1.50 for a Russian pie to $9 for the Kazan kebabs. The venue is low key with a wonderful ambience for dinner with friends or a romantic night out.

The Spot, Kakda Street, Sihanoukville (open 1pm to 11pm Tuesday to Sunday)

 

Kill your darlings

Propping up an authentic Irish bar in a dusty corner of Sihanoukville is perhaps the last place you’d expect to find one of the cornerstones of the worldwide Beat Generation fan base, or indeed a renowned expert on the life of William Burroughs, but that’s exactly where David S Wills – author, managing editor of Beatdom magazine and owner of a publishing house by the same name – has made his home for the past year. To date, he’s authored controversial novel The Dog Farm, which is set in the seedy world of ESL teaching in South Korea; and Scientologist! William S. Burroughs and the ‘Weird Cult’, which examines the role of Scientology in the life of an American literary giant. And all this just as Kill Your Darlings, in which a 1944 murder brings together the great Beat poets, with Daniel Radcliffe playing Allen Ginsberg, screens at The Flicks.  The Advisor caught up with David over a couple of essential cold ones to hear his own version of being on the road, his thoughts on alternative literature and the place of the Beat Generation in modern society.

What brought you to Cambodia?

I could give a romantic answer and say that travelling is in my blood because my dad has worked worldwide and visited over 100 countries, but the reality is that I’d graduated with a degree in English literature and there were just no jobs in Scotland. One evening I was having a drunken conversation with a friend and they mentioned working in Korea. Despite knowing nothing about the countries beyond Park Ji Sung and Kim Jong Il, I went home and sent out around 70 CVs. By the next morning I had a job offer and two weeks later I was in South Korea where I stayed for three years. From there I went to Taiwan; hated it and ended up fleeing in the middle of the night after two weeks when the work became unbearable. I ended up in Malaysia for a further two weeks till I got a call offering me a lecturing post in China where I was teaching Australian history; something I knew nothing about and was only ever one chapter ahead of the students.

 

I’ve heard a few anecdotes from your travels, but there was one from China that really stood out.

You probably mean the wedding story. A Westerner in China is still very much a novelty outside of the main areas and you get asked – and paid – to do all manner of strange jobs or favours, from joining their football team to masquerading as a mining executive in their office. But the strangest one, especially given my non-religious nature, was being asked to officiate at the wedding in Hefei of the CEO of the Howard Johnson hotel chain in China. There were 600 guests and it was a complete nightmare. I’m not confident in front of crowds and initially said no, but they were persistent and offered me $1,000 and as much as I could eat and drink. The free drink was there before the wedding and by the time it came to start the ceremony I was pretty damned drunk and managed to stumble through some Chinglish downloaded from the internet. Added to that, the band they’d supposedly flown in from Germany turned out to be Austrian and proceeded to drunkenly pull down all the German flags after the wedding. All in all, a very entertaining evening.

How did you get hooked on the beat generation?

I’d always had an interest in books and had read vociferously from an early age. I then started writing when at university but never shared it with anyone other than one or two close friends. One of those said my writing reminded me of Hunter S Thompson’s Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas and gave it to me to read. From there I moved onto Kerouac, other Beats and general ‘50s and ’60s literature. Burroughs and Ginsberg came much later, but became my primary interests. The literature side had a huge influence on the culture of the time.

Bob Dylan cites Kerouac as a primary influence and there was very much that ‘50s post-war rebelliousness in a lot of the writing. I then started up Beatdom while still living in Dundee and expanding the fanzine to a publishing imprint seemed like a logical step forward.

You recently wrote about the parallels between the Beat generation and the Alt Lit scene, meeting with mixed responses from fans of the genre. 

I stand by my original points. Though lumping authors together under a banner is mostly done as a matter of convenience in studying literature, I think that more so than in other cases there are a lot of similarities. They were basically sets of urban hipsters with literary inclinations, both taking inspiration from the past while radically redefining literature to the extent of asking what literature is. Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs’ most famous works were all derided as being ‘not really literature’ and yet here we are, decades later, with them on university syllabi. I think the internet is a massive part of modern life and yet it hasn’t adequately made its way into art yet. It’s been dominating our existence for more than a decade and yet only now are we really seeing artists make the internet itself ‘art’. Alt Lit involves both the incorporation of Gmail chats and Tweets into literature, but it also makes blogs and YouTube videos and screen macros into literary works. It’s fascinating how important this is and yet how overlooked.

I do see a parallel between internet-fuelled jargon in Alt Lit and the work of Kerouac and Burroughs. Kerouac took jazz and made it the rhythm of his novels, and they’re taking the way people actually communicate now and making it part of literature.

I spoke with [American novelist] Noah Cicero about the similarities and he said that Alt Lit was like the Beats and other movements in that it was about living “the literary life”. In other words, a writer is not necessarily a professional writer. He or she does things that are different from other people and makes that part of their work. They explore the world, physically or psychically. I think that is true of him but probably not other Alt Lit writers.

Alt Lit is similar to the Beats in that it’s a sort of social thing in some ways, probably more so than a stylistic or political or any other kind of movement. You’re Alt Lit if you know someone who’s Alt Lit, basically. People are classified as part of it through their friendships with the likes of [US novelist, poet and essayist] Tao Lin and [US poet] Steve Roggenbuck.

If someone wanted to start delving into Alt Lit, what would you recommend?

Tao Lin is the obvious starting point. He’s considered the ‘Father of Alt Lit’ because people have copied him stylistically. Many of the other best Alt Lit writers have different styles, whereas Lin is like Kerouac in that he has thousands of imitators. Pretenders, if you will. He’s not a particularly easy writer to get into and so I’m not sure if he’s a good entry level one. What most people don’t get is that he’s funny. I didn’t get it at first, not for a long time. He seemed annoying. Then I saw him read (on YouTube, not an actual live performance) and he couldn’t stop laughing (he was on MDMA) and I realised that he was a comedic writer. He wasn’t nihilistic like people said, but rather he was having fun with the meaninglessness of life for his generation.

Beyond him there are lots of decent Alt Lit writers; Megan Boyle is my favourite. She’s a good starting point, too. She was Tao Lin’s wife, briefly, and they made films together. She did a live blog of her life, racking up the same sort of millions of words that Kerouac did. She spares no detail, which is like Ginsberg, too. The sheer openness of it is stunning. She’s also funny. Her Tweets and column (for Vice) and blog are all very funny.

Steve Roggenbuck is also good, but you have to know when you go in that he’s pretending to be dumb. He spells everything intentionally wrong as homage to Orlovsky and Stein. Noah Cicero is an easier read in many ways. Sam Pink is also very popular.

What next from Beatdom magazine? Any forthcoming releases that excite you? And what’s next for you?

I’m editing five books at the moment. Four of them are for publication through Beatdom Books. One is by John Tytell, who wrote one of the first ever books about the Beat Generation – Naked Angels. Another is a memoir of a friend of Allen Ginsberg, who shares their unpublished correspondence, and also several unpublished Ginsberg poems. We also have a weird book about William S. Burroughs that’s illustrated. I don’t even know how to describe it. And there’s a novella by Tony J Rodriguez, which is one of the best things I’ve read in ages. His book is basically an update of On The Road, but with a female protagonist. It’s a brilliant book, unlike the millions of wannabe On The Road knock-offs I see.

What about me? If I ever find the time, I’ll get around to writing my book on  Alt Lit. I want it to be the first ever book about Alt Lit, but if I don’t get around to it then it’ll be the second. Or third.

WHO: The Beat Generation
WHAT: Kill Your Darlings screening
WHERE: Flicks1, St. 95 and Flicks2, St. 136
WHEN: 6:30pm June 20 & 22; 4pm June 23; 8:30pm June 24 (Flicks1 only); 6:30pm June 25 (Flicks1 only)
WHY: The beat goes on!