Daniel Curzon

-- from Midwest Review of Books:

Sweet, Sweet Stories, Some Sweeter Than Others is a collection of short tales that aren't always 'sweet' in the sense of light pleasure, but which always hold messages and food for thought in a collection especially recommended for short story readers who like their vignettes sharp and intriguing.

One doesn't anticipate that suspense, drama, metaphysical topics and powerful psychological works will fall into the category of 'sweet,' but all these themes meld in a form of autobiography and reflection that succeeds in crafting powerful tales of angst, healing, relationships and life's chance interactions.

Take, for example, 'O, Ye of Little Faith'. Here, a nursing home sojourn among the barely-living turns into new revelations about life and death as an isolated, lonely man who wants to die confronts the reality of imminent demise in those around him.

Or consider 'Asylum?' in which a woman who processes immigrants who are seeking asylum finds a way to reconsider her own role in decisions about who lives or possibly dies in the country they're fleeing from.

The overall strong impact of these satisfyingly diverse pieces cannot be denied and are recommended for short story readers who seek contemplative, involving vignettes about life encounters and moments of transformation.… (més)

"Prolific playwright, novelist and gay activist Daniel Curzon now applies his caustic wit and elegant prose style to knee-jerk political correctness on campus and grade-grubbing, semi-literate students making vicious online judgments of instructors, often without ever showing up in the classroom. Curzon taught two decades in the English department at City College of San Francisco. In a disclaimer, he insists that the corrupt "animal farm" where his beleaguered hero Professor Nathanael Tack teaches ("Shite College" in the city of "Santa Francesca") bears no resemblance to CCSF. But the details of Curzon's indictment are delicious nonetheless: wracked by "neo-puritan guilt," Tack's benighted colleagues-Charlotte Wiggley, Haywood Wire, Dean Calvin Visigoth, etc.-stumble around campus (where we find the comically named Helen C. Keller Visual Arts Building and the Lowe-Rankin Dining Room) petrified that the students they're supposed to be enlightening will rate them insufficiently malleable or meek. Curzon has a firm grasp of the absurd and an eye for telling detail that recalls Evelyn Waugh or Joseph Heller. Tack must endure the boy from Bahrain who wants to skip weeks of classes to oversee the "honor killing" of his sister; the nasty illiterate who thinks his "educashun" is imperiled by bigotry against Dutch-Americans, and a band of militant bicyclists who beat motorists with bicycle chains. At the heart of Curzon's funny, often angry, narrative are the perpetrators of a bogus campus website that excoriates and libels teachers they hate. One of the tamer posts: " . . . she carrie's a big chop on her shoulder." Tack is, of course, a central target of the witless cyberbullies. He is also gay, so he must withstand slurs and work tricky relationships with his unstable lover and his teenage son. At almost 500 pages, Cyberbully runs long, and Curzon's deep sense of grievance can be exhausting. But he's an eloquent social satirist, and this hilarious portrait of one man's battle against ignorance and folly is relentlessly entertaining." - Blue InK Review

2)
How to Cyberbully Your Teacher
We have seen in recent months the horrendous consequences of Internet culture— the brutality of trolling, cyber mobs, the advent of post-truth narratives, the exploitative exposure of private lives, etc. But the unleashing of our basest instincts in the crucible of anonymity has crawled deeper into our society, past this month’s viral agitprop or alt-right chatrooms. It has come to live in our very educational institutions, inculcating a malevolence and lack of empathy in our children— our very future. Author Daniel Curzon, in his brilliant and brutal book, How to Cyberbully Your Teacher, has struck the heart of the matter through the narrative form, taking the grim facts and abhorrent details of this reality and presenting its truth in a compelling, emotionally raw story that unveils the ultimate consequences of cyberbullying on a private, personal, and human level. Mr. Curzon’s skills as a novelist (here, in the non-fiction genre) are readily apparent; his command of character and dialogue instantly sweeps the reader into this perverse reality, establishing the disquieting and deeply unnerving cultural norms of the contemporary educational institution from the very outset. The author’s ability to approach both the social ramifications of cyberbullying, as well as the individual psychological (and professional) fallout of anonymous attacks, speaks to his passionate investment in the subject matter which, through his evocative prose and dramatic prowess, instills a passionate investment in the reader herself. This is a profound and essential conversation that needs to be had today, and Mr. Curzon has delivered us a first step, in this forceful work, towards facing the problem head-on.
—Charles Asher Phi Beta Kappa Reviews… (més)

(from Amazon.com) By William Neville -
This review is from: Halfway to the Stars: Cable Car Tales of a Grumpy Gripman

[T]he title of Daniel Curzon's new book might lead one to think it would be an innocuous collection of heartwarming tales that a tourist might choose for a vacation souvenir. Far from it. this is a dark, angry book for lovers of the macabre, the hilariously grotesque, of deft observation, brilliant writing and of ideas boldly and fearlessly stated. Having survived fifty-two years in San Francisco, which may be even longer than the author has resided there, I can attest to the actual existence of many of the "characters" depicted here; if Curzon invented many others they seem every bit as real. And he has created a protagonist, the grip man of the title, who is as vivid and memorable as the motley passengers who leap onto cable car and page. Our narrator is a bitter, self-defeating loner whose girlfriend is in a coma throughout most of the book and whose sole friend and companion is a pet rat (or a succession of them) who resides on his person as he goes about his daily chores. And he is angry. Angry about all the ugly ways in which the city, and society in general, is going to hell. He is particularly outraged by the whole notion of "political correctness." This theme becomes stronger as the book progresses, and culminates in a harrowing dream the narrator has in which he cannot evade the crowd pursuing him or even name who they are. It's as if he's forbidden to name them, as the extremes of political correctness require us to ignore the evidence and observations of our senses in favor of some vague societal purpose. When it is considered worse to name a crime or criminal than to actually perpetrate that crime, the something is seriously wrong.
This is the grip man's thinking and he pulls no punches in expressing his ideas. Does the author feel the same? Who's to say? Whatever the case the book will inspire controversy as well as admiration for its skill and off-the-wall portraiture. And I have one question for Mr Curzon: why didn't you include the most notorious cable car rider of alll, the woman who became a nymphomaniac because she had to grab onto a pole to prevent falling down when the car stopped short? Are you saving her for the sequel?

Direct link to this review: http://www.amazon.com/gp/pdp/profile/A354WXY9711HAL/ref=cm_cr_pr_pdp… (més)