
Dr. Frank of the Mr. T Experience has written... a young adult novel! Whhaaattt?!? What a way to have my childhood come rushing back. King Dork follows Tom Henderson, a 70s rock obsessed anti-Holden Caulfield tenth grader in the San Francisco bay area circa 1999 (oi, that's close to home). One of the blurbs I came across used the phrase "Catcher in the Rye for the MySpace generation". Crazy. But the marketing fits the description; there's a trailer for the book on YouTube and a Litzkrieg Bop Blog Book Tour visiting the hip high-traffic Gawker, Stereogum, Largehearted Boy, Brooklyn Vegan, and Jane. It's brilliant really, the interviews are more informative and entertaining than most book reviews, and there are mp3 "readings" and MTX songs at each pit stop. I like Dr. Frank's description: What do you do if you can't afford a book tour? Answer: you do it on the internet...It is almost just like real life, except fuzzier and less expensive.
Q&A excerpt between Dr. Frank and marketing wonder Andrew Krucoff that makes me want to smash head into wall:
Your description of high school AP classes hits Talos's nail on the Medusa head: "You end up making a lot of collages, and dressing in costumes and putting on irritating little skits, but thats about it." What are some of the more ridiculous things that you personally experienced in these "advanced" high school classes?
We did a skit of My Fair(ian) Rasta, where some Rastafarians try to teach a simple country girl to speak with a Jamaican accent and smoke ganja and pass herself off as a stoned hippie. We had dreadlock wigs made out of yarn. (That was for the multiculturalism segment.)
We did a Siskel and Ebert thing where Siskel and Ebert dressed as ancient Greeks and reviewed parodies of Greek tragedies. I think I may have been Ebertos. This one guy played Oedipus and with those bouncy eyeballs-on-springs glasses and got two thumbs down. And then there was Spot the Wonder God...
Also, an excerpt from the book:
They call me King Dork.
Well, let me put it another way: no one ever actually calls me King Dork. It's how I refer to myself in my head, a silent protest and an acknowledgment of reality at the same time. I don't command a nerd army, or preside over a realm of the socially ill-equipped. I'm small for my age, young for my grade, uncomfortable in most situations, nearsighted, skinny, awkward, and nervous. And no good at sports. So Dork is accurate. The King part is pure sarcasm, though: there's nothing special or ultimate about me. I'm generic. It's more like I'm one of the kings in a pack of crazy, backward playing cards, designed for a game where anyone who gets me automatically loses the hand. I mean, everything beats me, even twos and threes.
I suppose I fit the traditional mold of the brainy, freaky, oddball kid who reads too much, so bright that his genius is sometimes mistaken for just being retarded. I know a lot of trivia, and I often use words that sound made-up but that actually turn out to be in the dictionary, to everyone's surprise--but I can never quite manage to keep my shoes tied or figure out anything to say if someone addresses me directly. I play it up. It's all I've got going for me, and if a guy can manage to leave the impression that his awkwardness arises from some kind of deep or complicated soul, why not go for it? But, I admit, most of the time, I walk around here feeling like a total idiot.
According to Lookout! Records, Dr. Frank will be reading at Coliseum Books in New York on Wednesday, July 12, but I can't find confirmation on other sites. Hopefully it's true...