Books like Where The Dead Voices Gather

My first interests in music were artists and bands that fell outside convenient genre pigeon-holing, and I wondered why conventional musical “histories” overlooked them. When I started to dig around, I discovered whole worlds of music that were far more compelling than anything that fit neatly into tidy narratives. It taught me to always look in the corners, between the cracks, beneath the floorboards, for the real weirdos and dreamers. With that healthy skepticism in hand, everything I did subsequently at my label ignored the pressures to conform to such silly and confining definitions. It was a way more fun, creative, and liberating way to run things.  

My first interests in music were artists and bands that fell outside convenient genre pigeon-holing, and I wondered why conventional musical “histories” overlooked them. When I started to dig around, I discovered whole worlds of music that were far more compelling than anything that fit neatly into tidy narratives. It taught me to always look in the corners, between the cracks, beneath the floorboards, for the real weirdos and dreamers. With that healthy skepticism in hand, everything I did subsequently at my label ignored the pressures to conform to such silly and confining definitions. It was a way more fun, creative, and liberating way to run things.  

My first interests in music were artists and bands that fell outside convenient genre pigeon-holing, and I wondered why conventional musical “histories” overlooked them. When I started to dig around, I discovered whole worlds of music that were far more compelling than anything that fit neatly into tidy narratives. It taught me to always look in the corners, between the cracks, beneath the floorboards, for the real weirdos and dreamers. With that healthy skepticism in hand, everything I did subsequently at my label ignored the pressures to conform to such silly and confining definitions. It was a way more fun, creative, and liberating way to run things.  

My first interests in music were artists and bands that fell outside convenient genre pigeon-holing, and I wondered why conventional musical “histories” overlooked them. When I started to dig around, I discovered whole worlds of music that were far more compelling than anything that fit neatly into tidy narratives. It taught me to always look in the corners, between the cracks, beneath the floorboards, for the real weirdos and dreamers. With that healthy skepticism in hand, everything I did subsequently at my label ignored the pressures to conform to such silly and confining definitions. It was a way more fun, creative, and liberating way to run things.  

I’ve had a love-hate relationship with pop music since I was a kid singing Britney Spear’s “Lucky” with my friends. Eventually, I evolved into a punk-ass cynical teenager who disavowed my love of pop, but the fascination remained. In college, I started a pop star romance that would–many, many years later–become my debut book Love in the Liner Notes. In the process, I read an obsessively large number of books touching on music, celebrities, musicians, and the entertainment industry. I hope you enjoy a selection of my favorites, mostly romances (what can I say, I have a type) that brought me the kind of joy only a pop star can. 

Let me tell you a little about myself. I was born in Dublin, and being the daughter of a diplomat afforded me to experience different cultures. Since childhood my fascination with the unknown caused me to gravitate towards stories related to hauntings. I shared this interest with my maternal grandparents, who contributed to my education by telling me ghost stories (some true whilst others are fictional). Tales of haunted castles were my favorite, which is reflected in my book. In later life, my own experiences with the paranormal cemented the notion of the unexplained and the thin veil between us and those departed.

I’m a romance novelist who writes about otherwise smart people who deal badly with their feelings. Love, sorrow, jealousy, anger, hopelessness, and grief make appearances in my books because I write in a genre that centers the emotional lives of its characters. When I’m not wreaking havoc on fictional people, I take long walks and eavesdrop on conversations. I’m a recent transplant to Toronto, Canada, after having lived in New York City for more than 20 years.

A couple who have been claimed by Korea—Bruce as a US Peace Corps volunteer there and Ju-Chan as a native Korean and an English teacher—and its culture, society, history, and especially literary heritage. We have been translating modern Korean fiction into English since 1980. Bruce was fated to become involved with Korean literature by virtue of being born on October 9, the day in 1446 when Great King Sejong promulgated (officially announced) the creation of the Korean alphabet, hangŭl, to the people of Korea.

My expertise as a scholar of the women’s music movement spans 40 years--ever since I attended my first concert and music festival in 1981. A lecturer at UC-Berkeley, I’m the author of 19 books on women’s history, and published the first book on women’s music festivals, Eden Built By Eves, in 1999 (now out of print.) More recently I’ve organized exhibits on the women’s music movement for the Library of Congress, co-authored The Feminist Revolution (which made Oprah’s list), and I’m now the archivist and historian for Olivia Records.

I'm the writer and artist of the Johnny Hiro graphic novels. In those books, I use pop culture reference humor, but never simply as a joke. A reference can act as a hint to a world beyond the story the writer tells. I often dig slightly into an emotional resonance behind that reference—perhaps the (fictional) story of why it exists, or perhaps it even becomes an integral plot point. Popular media and culture often have a direct influence on our creative arts projects. And just sometimes, that art becomes an integral part of the popular culture itself.