Ping-Pong Free Press

Ping-Pong Free Press brings together a spectrum of influences and combines them with an ecological social perspective on the nature of art and the human predicament. We are committed to promoting artists we firmly believe in, and sharing our enthusiasm for their work with a wider audience. The press emerged logically for Maria after years volunteering as editor in chief of the successful Ping-Pong Magazine.
PPFP is also interested in publishing writing with a radical environmental stance, perched as we are on the edge of the continent with condors flying overhead flipping the bird to extinction.
In my fifteen years serving on the board of the Henry Miller Memorial Library I championed the literary and artistic legacy of Henry Miller, which naturally goes beyond his own writing. During this time I also founded Ping-Pong Free Press which is now an imprint of Poet Republik Ltd. We may not have even known about Miller had it not been for Anaïs Nin. Miller existed at the peripheries of American literature, but his sources, and his influence, extend far beyond this country, to the international literary avant-garde. Miller was and is as much an international literary figure as he was/is an American one.
Ping-Pong Free Press supports many poets, writers, artists, filmmakers, musicians, and photographers. These artists are part of varied communities: LGBTQ, people of color, and the under-represented—some of whom would never have found a voice in the mainstream, like Henry, like Anaïs.
The editors of PPFP are committed to honoring communal, non-materialistic values and seeking excellent work that exemplifies this point of view.
In the spirit of all artists who champion the disregarded, the liminal, and who, above all, want to bring into the light writing and literature that troubles the elite, Ping Pong Free Press seeks to publish the best work out there. For more information here are several reviews of different issues on New Pages:

Ping-Pong Free Press reviews on New Pages

Ping-Pong Review by: Cheyanne Gustason

If you have ever visited the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur, California, you likely noticed a ping-pong table. This table, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, brings the library’s many visitors together in a single place, with a single purpose: ping-pong. It is appropriate, then, that the Library’s literary journal, Ping•Pong, unites a wide array of voices and works in a single volume, and to common purpose. If you have ever visited the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur, California, you likely noticed a ping-pong table. This table, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, brings the library’s many visitors together in a single place, with a single purpose: ping-pong. It is appropriate, then, that the Library’s literary journal, Ping•Pong, unites a wide array of voices and works in a single volume, and to common purpose.

The 2014 issue of Ping•Pong centers on topics of freedom and censorship, themes central to the life and legacy of Henry Miller himself. Editor-in-Chief Maria Garcia Teutsch begins her opening letter with the statement, “speech is not free, someone has paid the tab for you.” While the journal contains a variety of poems, artwork, short stories, and more, there runs throughout its pages an appreciation of those who paid the tab and paved the way.

Some of this appreciation is obvious, like the discussion and inclusion of works by Russian poets including Anna Akhmatova and Vladimir Mayakovsky, who were mercilessly persecuted in early 20^th century Russia. Works by these two, and some of their peers, have been translated into English included in this issue of Ping•Pong. These pieces, surrounded by modern works, raise questions about the nature of censorship and its cost, to both individuals and society. Many of the translated Russian pieces have a surreal slant, which makes it all the more biting when they depict cruelties and violent ironies that are all too real. In an excerpt from “Wild Honey Is a Smell of Freedom,” Akhmatova writes “Wild honey has a scent – of freedom [. . .] But we have learned that // blood smells only of blood.” Written in Leningrad in 1934, one can hear the echoes of revolution, of strong spirits and stronger institutions, and the realities of censorship and the importance of the creative voice are made all the more resoundingly clear.

The issue is not all heavy-handed. Quite the contrary. There are many pieces that are not only thought-provoking, but artfully elicit smiles and laughter, both bitter and mirthful, as well. Yet even these lighter pieces explore themes of censorship and material that might be condemned if not for our forefathers of free speech. Jeanine Deibel’s poem “A-Team: Swinging the Lead” is a delightful trip through the possibilities of alliteration. Some favorite lines: “My power animal is an antelope / I worship Angus idols / I curse in my alphabet soup.” Even this—to curse in alphabet soup—is that not a subversion of a comfortable classic? Is such subversion necessary, imperative, even just plausible, to bolster artistic freedom? Throughout Ping•Pong, even moments of levity harbor serious and thought-provoking undercurrents.

Resting at the end of the issue is an interview with poet Alice Notley. It is a fitting finale, as Notley discusses many themes pertinent to the other works and the issue in general. She mentions her work with Allen Ginsberg, who was no stranger to issues of censorship and artistic freedom. She discusses her process, sharing her work (or not), and differences between France, the United States, and Germany in both language and acceptance. At one point she claims, “Sometime [sic] I suspect the French of not liking poetry at all.”

Ping•Pong is host to many styles of writing and expression, and a wide array of authors, which makes it a dynamic petri dish of creativity (and a lot of fun to read). Some pieces brought tears to my eyes (I won’t say which). Others had me shaking my head, or my fist, at either the content, or the way the message would once have been (or still might be) suppressed. There is humanity, beauty, heartbreak, and elation, as well as (sometimes disturbing) profanity, sexuality, and violence; and all have a voice in the poems and fiction here. The art included in this issue is also intriguing and thought-provoking, fitting nicely with the themes and emotions displayed in the written pieces. In fact, I would look forward to seeing a bit more visual art included in Ping•Pong’s next issue.

Appropriately, this year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the Supreme Court decision that made Henry Miller’s classic Tropic of Cancer legal to read and sell in the United States. While Miller’s persecution may not have equaled that of writers like Ahkmatova and Mayakovsky, it is also not so long ago that Miller’s work was verboten in our “land of the free.” Ping•Pong, much like the library that publishes it, perpetuates the legacy of Henry Miller’s work, which includes the freedom of all writers and artists to be seen and heard. This edition of the journal explores and expands on these themes, making it not only an enjoyable read, but an important one as well.

Ping-Pong Review by Shannon Smith

Ping•Pong is the journal of the Henry Miller Library. Their mission statement maintains that they publish a journal because continuing the literary and artistic legacy of Henry Miller does not mean just publishing Miller, but also others, and that “Given our interest in these peculiar and often-overlooked centers and margins, not everything published in Ping•Pong will be pretty.”

This issue of Ping•Pong contains two short stories, one piece of nonfiction, an interview, many poems, and artwork. Some of these poems are a folio of responses to the French poet and artist, Jean Arp, specifically, Arp’s poem “What is That?” as translated by Joachim Neugroschel. The poets who responded were asked to choose either to respond to the entire poem or to pick a few questions voiced in the poem to focus on. Matthew Burgess provides the excellent first response, which not only contains the line “In the season of haircuts / we zipper to soundtracks / asymmetrically” but also name-drops Patrick Swayze. Pamela-Evitt Hill gives another interesting response entitled “Mask,” which closes: “But, the popcorn is still popping / through her senses.” Chris Martin’s “Chat” is a playful yet angry response with the lines, “I am a sort of bird laughter // You are a liar. // Exactly.”

Merlin Ural’s story “Crux,” a short vivid piece, takes place in Istanbul. It’s narrated by a man who wants to get out of military service, not simply with an excuse of being gay—as the military doctor accuses him of—but because he actually is gay. The story describes how the photograph he has provided of him having sex with his boyfriend is not enough—the doctor requires that he pass a physical test that proves he has been a passive partner. The story begins and ends with the narrator looking for a partner who will help him become disqualified from the military service.

David Hancock’s “Head Fountains,” is a more experimental story about someone named Steppenwolf who teaches the narrator “the way of the gun, to crave the smell of burning flesh, to live by the code”—that is, to be what seems like an assassin in something called “the Order.” The narrator then becomes involved with someone named Sarah, and for a while it seems like they might rebel against the Order until he receives an assignment, a contract—to kill Sarah. Although the plot seems like something that could be affiliated with the worst of genre fiction, Hancock’s brusque prose renders the story into a compelling work.

The interview in Ping•Pong is with Thurston Moore, better known for his work with the band Sonic Youth than his association with poetry. Yet as the interview shows, Moore has been deeply involved with poetry for years and is now running a publishing imprint called “Flowers of Cream.” Released on the imprint will be “small chapbooks that are perfect-bound with silver card covers,” which are referential to Telegraph Books, a press that Victor Bockris ran with Andrew Wylie that is known for publishing Patti Smith’s Seventh Heaven. Moore notes that the type of poet he wants to publish is “very interested in the academics of writing as well as the new ideas of liberations from that academic.”

Ping•Pong sticks to its mission of publishing writers who, while they may not be influenced by Henry Miller directly, do seem to follow in the footsteps of his lineage.

Ping-Pong Review by Maggie Glover

Having never visited the Henry Miller Library, I had no idea what to expect from Ping Pong, the Library’s annual art and literary journal. When it arrived, I was impressed with the exceptional production quality: thick and glossy paper, beautiful print, vivid and colorful art pieces and, yes, the work inside the journal was striking, too.

The front matter states that “in the spirit of Henry Miller, Ping Pong encourages and supports free thinking and free expression.” I was happy to see that the editors chose a variety of writing and art to represent Miller’s spirit, and although he was referred to outright in some of the works (such as Suzanne Ryan’s opening poem, “Henry Miller Haiku”), his presence is only notional in others, which further heightened the feeling that this journal is a celebration of expression rather than an ode to one man’s work.

Honestly, there’s a lot of great stuff in this issue; truly memorable pieces include Brandi Walker’s haunting nonfiction “Letters from Southern Sudan,” Vladimir Kush’s movement-rich art pieces, and Anthony Hawley’s progressive “Productive Suffix.” Charles Bernstein’s “Henry Miller on Music” is a thoughtful recollection of his personal encounter with Miller’s “music blasphemy.”

Editor Maria Garcia Teutsch says in her introduction that “all of the artists and writers contained [within this edition of Ping Pong] speak a kind of truth we are honored to publish.” After finishing Ping Pong, I have to say that I agree completely..