Bostonist Books: Monks, Kennedy, and Greenman @ Booksmith

Aside from reading ineffective names for a hardcore Death Metal Band, Kennedy spoke of the difficulty of making small talk with your Boss' dog in your Boss' office, but before that came to pass he offered a brief backstory concerning his activities before standing in an office with his Boss' dog, which began

... walking down the highway in Connecticut—I don't live in Connecticut—but I was looking for some work up there. There was a job that I was going to be getting up there. And I didn't really have money for cars or transportation, so I would walk to the train station. And I was walking down the highway and, generally, little kids were playing in their pleasant, suburban lawns, they were, like, sizing me up, going, "Who's the loser all dressed in black walking down this perfectly pleasant suburban highway?" And a number of them were asking me why I didn't have a car, which was a high point for me at age thirty... three—politely answering children. "Well, I don't—I had a car for a bit, there." Took everything in me not to go, "Little dick ... Why don't you have a car? All right, then."

But the dog:

I walk into my Boss' office a few days after finishing a commercial, and I need to talk to her about a TV commercial I'm going to be producing for the new Jewel album. She's on the phone, but indicates that I should stay ... So while I wait, I have to be polite to Sylvia first. She's Valorie's dog ... One should know how to schmooze the little dogs ... Everyone here has it down. They have this sweet little voice to talk to the dog with. They know how to [follow up with Valorie based on questions they ask Sylvia] ... I, on the other hand, have no idea how to talk to executive dogs in the office ... I put on a huge, forced smile that seems to both me and the dog judging by the way it's now shaking and quivering ...

Monks talked about how his kids kept grilling him, asking, "Well, who's going to be there?" And so he tried to break that down into exactitudes—who was there from McSweeney's, who was there because of his personal website, who was there "because I went to high school with them? 'cause there might have been—ah, my uncle. Right."

Monks read from his book, The Ultimate Game Guide to Your Life; or, The Video Game as Existentialist Metaphor. The crowd voted by an overwhelming margin to hear about college life (which featured nazis, cults, and the hope to shine) over potty training (the one dissenting vote being cast by his wife), and after we'd voted, our hands were daubed in a blue ink.

The book itself is not so much about the conceit as it is the novel behind the conceit, and it becomes much more about the sincere side of the conceit as it progresses, but that's neither here not there: what's important is that there are almost two monologues at play, here: the character and the guide, and to hear Monks read it aloud was invaluable. His reading played at a character we didn't have in mind when we read it.

After he finished, Monks auctioned off several things, the proceeds of which went to 826 Boston, including "my old XBox ... this is totally legit. I'm really going to auction this off, and I'm not leaving until someone makes a bid."

Do we get numbers on cards we get to hold up?" We asked.

A woman up front raised her hand.

"Sorry," she said, "but what is an XBox?"

"An XBox ... It really is very kind of you to come if you don't know what ... It's a gaming system, but not just any gaming system, an obsolete one. This is, like, you know, ten years old."

"Does that mean we have to buy old video games?" The woman asked.

"Not only do you get the gaming system, you get old video games, too. We have Mercenaries: Playground of Destruction, Halo 2 ... This is legit, people ... Half-Life 2. Fight Night: Round 3. Now, the cool thing about this one: I don't think I erased the hard drive on this, so a lot of my saved games are on it ... and with this boxing game, you can make yourself boxing, make someone with your name -- kind of looks like you boxing -- and if I remember correctly, there's still someone who looks like me on the hard drive, so you're not just getting the XBox, you're getting a game where you can box as me ... I think that's kind of cool, actually. Two controllers: none of the wireless crap. These are wired. I'm going to throw in a free copy of my book ... A magnet! And then I had a really funny gag, but I forgot: I was going to throw in a sandwich from Whole Foods, but I left it in the fridge. However: if that's the deal breaker, it's still in the fridge. It's a Ham and Cheese. It was Whole Foods, so it was delicious -- overpriced, but delicious. It's on one of those nice, little baguette ... skinny ... anyway, it's in the fridge. Oh, then, and also: this is legitimate, again. I put an Obama sticker on it to commemorate the inauguration, so if you're a fan of the President, there's that. If you're not a fan, I just put the sticker on today, so if you just get a sponge, you can probably get it off real easily. And then there's another sticker on top that says, 'This used to be Chris Monks' XBox' -- so if I ever become really famous, you can show that to all your friends ... and just like at auctions when you want to make sure that something's legit, my wife is going to come up and give a testimonial about the XBox."

"I have the testimonial that I 'wrote'—my name is Ann Clark, and I am a Public School Teacher, and I'm the wife of Christopher Monks. I can verify as both an educator and a spouse that the XBox you see before you is my husband's. He bought the game years ago, without telling me—that's true—this is all true. One evening I came home from work, working many long hours teaching the children, and there he was, playing Grand Theft Auto, while our one year old son looked on from his Pack'N'Play ... I beg you to think of the children."

A relative won the auction, prompting Monks to remark that if the relative didn't want the sandwich in the fridge, he could always make said relative a sandwich.

Pictured: Kennedy's book, Monk's book, and Greenman, courtesy of Flickr, Amazon, and Wikipedia.