READING IS FUCKINMENTAL / Jason Matthew Smith

THE STONY LONESOME

Journalist and crazy bastard Ted Conover becomes a screw.

Other than good drugs and bad women (or maybe bad drugs and good women), probably few things have influenced music like prison. That’s right: incarceration. The Man in Black figured that out pretty early on. And if Akon (“Locked Up”) and Nelly (“Fly Away”) are to be believed, it ain’t no picnic, either. I’ve never done hard time, nor would I want to. Look at my picture—I’d be somebody’s bitch in twelve seconds. But I’ve often been curious about the prison guards; guys and gals whose day-to-day grind involves cozying up to the worst scumbags and cheats in the country. (And what do I do? I sit in an air conditioned office and complain bitterly when Subway forgets the jalapeños on my foot-long BMT.) So I looted every used bookstore in the Intermountain West until I found Ted Conover’s New Jack: Guarding Sing Sing (Vintage, 2001). Yes, I realize I could’ve just ordered the goddamn thing from Amazon, but I’m into the thrill of discovery and all that shit. Anyway, Conover, a journalist and a crazy bastard, gets a job as a prison guard at one of the nation’s roughest joints—not just because he’s a writer and needs a view of the inside, but also for the experience itself. He does a masterful job of putting you in his shoes through just about the most unpleasant work environment this side of the septic industry. You’ll love it.

Jason Matthew Smith is a Texan who never developed an accent, thanks to a steady diet of television reruns during his formative years. He now lives in Utah, where everyone thinks he sounds just like John Astin, the original Gomez Addams.