Zinester's Paradise

Lisa Crystal Carver is an underground literary icon -- dubbed a "visionary" by one critic, likened to "Hunter S. Thompson in a miniskirt" by another.

As creator of the beloved, bizarro fanzine Rollerderby, she was widely considered the queen of the late '80s/early '90s independent publishing scene: an intimate circle of creative but dysfunctional, artistic but socially inept freaks that went far (see musician Bill Callahan of Smog, artist Dame Darcy and industrial music maven Boyd Rice).

This nutty cast of characters -- Lisa's friends, lovers and partners in crime -- made up Carver's world, which she faithfully chronicled in all its raunchy glory for Rollerderby. The mag was a stimulating blend of smut and schlock: a celebration of American culture's seediest underbellies. On one page, you'd find photos of Carver's girl friends, bloodied and posed to look like corpses; on the next, interviews with rock stars like Liz Phair and Courtney Love.

But Rollerderby didn't attract a cult following just because of its salacious content. Carver won fans' hearts via her uniquely taut writing -- a style she describes as "like I'm telling something I can't wait to tell to one person who already knows everything about me and still likes me."

That writing is showcased in Carver's recently published "post-punk memoir," Drugs Are Nice (named after her band Suckdog's first record), in which she tracks her transformation from small-town teen to international lit-punk sensation.

The book is surprisingly hopeful and resonant, mainly because Carver finally gives herself the right, as well as the space, to mine her own depths. Beneath Carver's bawdy attitude and rock 'n' roll lifestyle is a smart, dedicated writer who manages to be strengthened, instead of squashed, by life's traumas.

And, as readers learn, there's no shortage of traumas. Carver's "issues" are varied: From learning that her schizophrenic son, Wolfgang, is afflicted with a rare chromosomal disorder, to her troubled relationship with her drug-dealing, woman-resenting father, to her penchant for abusive men (Carver's account of her romance with alcoholic rumored Nazi Boyd Rice is one of the book's most powerful passages), Carver acknowleges her lowest moments without tumbling into self-pity.

She also offers a humorously detailed account of visiting Anton LaVey, founder of the Church of Satan, in his creepy San Francisco mansion. (LaVey's family is now trying to sue Carver for her depictions of him. On Nov. 11, Carver wrote in her MySpace blog about being attacked by LaVey's minions at a book signing: "A red-haired gal said, 'Are you Lisa Carver? I'm Szandora and this is Stanton LaVey' and something like, 'We want to know why you'd write something like that, and you're a stupid bitch and we're going to kick your ass.' So she lunges for me, we pull each other's hair out, I kick her in the crotch a couple times, she scratches my neck up. I'm fine with that part.")

Carver spoke with AlterNet's Laura Barcella via telephone from her Dover, N.H., home.

Laura Barcella: What's changed in your life since you finished writing Drugs Are Nice?

Lisa Carver: Well, I finished it two years ago. I shopped it around for a long time. Since I finished it, I've separated from my husband, got back together, and then separated again. I went on tour. I moved. I got a new boyfriend. I lost my house. Um, I'm really happy now. It comes and goes.

Have you been surprised by any reactions you've gotten to the book?

I've had really great responses. People have said it changed their lives -- that it made them want to live again and do things they'd given up hope on. It made them look at their youth differently. And it made a lot of people want to do zines again. Some people said the book made them suddenly start talking about things they don't talk about, like if they'd gotten dicked around in the past.