The first time I came across a listing for the new Twin Cities-based reading series “Our Flow Is Hard” my reaction wasn’t too complicated: “I have to check that out.” Partly because of the witty and bold entendre in the collective’s name, but primarily because I knew it was a chance to witness a group of young poets developing into something new, something organic and public and interactive. I attended the first OFIH event (and wrote about it here), and my curiosity was only piqued: they do things a bit differently in OFIH, and the difference seems deliberate. Continue reading
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Field of Reads
What happens when a few cultural institutions get together and encourage people to come sit around and read for a while? People come sit around and read for a while. On Saturday, July 14 2012, Coffee House Press publisher Chris Fischbach and the Walker Art Center teamed up for Field of Reads, a day-long campaign to turn the Walker’s Open Field into a site for reading, book-swapping, story-timing, and literary mingling.
The day’s attractions featured a lending library (accessible every day at Open Field) which also included starter kits, Bananagrams, Jenga, and bundles of other activities; a tent set up for a children’s storytime; lawn chairs and mats to spread out on the lawn; and an spread of impressive books available to swap. These were not old, ratty editions, either–the swappable books appeared to be in like-new shape, and quality titles, from classics to local independent gems, abounded.
Books for free! Books for swap! Bring us your books! Take our books with you!
I brought my own book (I forgot to bring one to swap) and I got down to business pretty quickly. After chatting with a few of the other attendees and the friendly Walker Art Center staff, I cracked open a novel and buried my nose. Similar to my reaction to Boneshaker Books’s Sustained Silent Reading a few weeks ago, I found something about reading in public inspiring, something calming and reassuring that ultimately increased my attention span, allowed me to more fully give myself over to the words on the page. I’m still tinkering with my thinking about this, but a nascent theory is that reading in public, for me at least, demands that I block out distractions and therefore increases my ability to focus–as opposed to the stillness of privacy, which in turn causes me to seek out distractions and encourages my mind to wander…
But there is something additionally peculiar to an “event” that focuses not on being entertained, but on engaging a private entertainment while in public. It moves away from performance, from the ritual aspects of an author appearance or “reading.” The shared experience aspect of communal reading is far more tenuous than if everyone is hearing the same words at the same time. But there is something shared, something affirmed, in simultaneously giving yourself over–even if the objects to which you give yourself over are drastically different for each person. And this affirmation, it seems to me, is only possible when the opportunity is publicized, as in Field of Reads and Sustained Silent Reading. Opening your book and reading in public is a great thing to do, but it doesn’t offer the same sense of shared experience that one receives from participating in an organized event.
A reader of Karen Thompson Walker’s The Age of Miracles. Don’t miss KTW’s reading on Thursday, July 26!
Reading Room, the overarching program responsible for Field of Reads (check out MPR’s excellent piece here), is an ongoing opportunity for local lit lovers to utilize a multifaceted and readily available resource. Now equipped with the most comfortable lawn chairs on the market (“we tested them all, and these are the best” says Graywolf Press associate publisher Katie Dublinski) and picnic tables and umbrellas for when that hot sun bears down, Open Field hopes to extend this communal literary affirmation on a more spontaneous basis. The Walker might not be the most convenient place to get to, tucked in its nest of boulevards and freeways, but next time you have an afternoon and you feel like having a read, take your book on a stroll through Loring Park, cross the Irene Hixon Whitney Bridge, and turn a few pages with a few like-minded Twin Citizens.
-RHM
Were you There? Have something to add, or a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below, or send us an email at LitSeen.Mpls@gmail.com! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar and be at the next LitSeen attended event. See you around!
Richard Ford
At the risk of stating the obvious, we live in a good town for book lovers. A strong, rich literary history… multiple independent bookstores… three of the country’s premier independent publishing houses… major universities with diverse and thriving writing programs… benefactors who value and support the arts… But one of the most compelling indicators of the Twin Cities’s literary vitality is the breadth and diversity of its literary events. The sheer number of readings on any given day is astounding; more to the point, we have the option of seeing and hearing emerging writers as well as witnessing the seasoned mastery of Pulitzer winners. How and why we choose which events to attend is a curious matter to me, and it was in the forefront of my mind last night.
RIchard Ford reads from Canada.
About 200 of the Twin Cities’s most refined literary enthusiasts took a seat in the Minneapolis Central Library‘s luxurious Pohland Hall on Tuesday, May 29th 2012, to hear Richard Ford (author of Independence Day and, most recently, Canada) kick off this year’s Talk of the Stacks series, a program sponsored by the Friends of the Hennepin County Library. As the start time neared, the lights dimmed, the ten-foot projection screen (twelve? fifteen? I don’t know, it’s pretty big) retracted into the ceiling, and the spotlights amped their beams on the podium, lone and central on the stage before the plush red curtains along the back wall. If the Twin Cities’s diverse literary programming falls on a spectrum, this was the end marked “big-time.”
Talk of the Stacks reaches a lot of readers through its library affiliation, and Ford, of course, sells a lot of books, has a vast readership, and writes really well. So it’s no surprise that a lot of folks came out to see him. But the demographics of this audience struck me instantly: middle aged or older, dressed conservatively–significantly different from, say, the attendees of Super Super Tuesday. Where are the angular haircuts, the just-out-of-college, giddy-about-the-performer audience members? Where are the stylish glasses? Those enthusiastic, young literary types driving much of our literary identity? In my mind, Richard Ford is an icon of contemporary literature: I expected more of a cross-section of the Twin Cities’s literary spectrum to be in attendance. But maybe his appeal is more limited,ore focused than I’d imagined.
Maybe it’s that Ford has already accomplished his greatness, while the younger generation tends to look at and support those who still gleam with the potential to do so. Perhaps its that Ford’s subject matter (typically baby-boomer fare) doesn’t appeal to younger audiences. Or perhaps it’s the very grandeur of the event: the glorification of one man’s work, rather than that of a collective or a community. After a brief introduction, Richard Ford came out and read a forty-five-minute excerpt of his new book. There was no formatting, no performer changes, no intermissions for mingling. No new voice to renew your tired attention span, just a writer and some words in the air.
Fancy! Richard Ford at the downtown Minneapolis library…
This was an evening devoted to one author reading one work–and boy did he.
Beginning on page one of Canada, Richard Ford delivered some of the most expert exposition I’ve ever heard. Physical descriptions that continued for pages, and yet delivered information somehow both necessary and intimate. A master of voice in his writing, Ford also gave a masterly reading, his Southern/Montana/Midwest/Northeast lilt carrying a wide range of simultaneous inflections. It was the kind of pure, good writing that made me want to run home and pick up a pen. It was the kind of prose that every good writer has tried and failed to imitate. It is iconic prose.
If the reading was fantastic, so was the Q&A. At one point, an astute audience member asked directly about Ford’s multifaceted dialect: “Do you try to supply the reader with a sense of your distinct cadence?” Ford mulled for a moment, then answered, “I try to confer the freedom to read my sentences however the reader wants, by making the sentences as good as possible.”This line of thinking eventually led him to expound, “A novel’s success depends on two things: 1) that the reader gets to the end of the book, and 2) that there’s no great discrepancy between what I think the book is about and what the reader thinks the book is about.” The highlight of the night, though, came in response to a question about the thematic content of Canada–the book and the country–and what drew Ford to write about it.
“I just like the word: a dactyl, those three soft a’s… I like the look of it on the page. Most books are composed of words that the author simply likes to see on the page,” Ford said. His discussion turned briefly into the nature of language, the behavior of semiotics. He offered a quote from Donald Hall, who was quoting sculptor Henry Moore, to explain the power of a word as both a physical and an aural object: “Never think of a surface but as the extension of a volume,” he said, drawing oohs and ahs from the audience, perfectly receptive to and appreciative of the sentiment. (An interview with Donald Hall from the Paris Review in which this quotation is referenced can be found here). Moore, a sculptor, was talking about surfaces and volumes in terms of physical materials, but for Ford and his audience, words are materials every bit as much as granite. And each of us felt that intuitive distance within each word, the volume of a language there in that room with us, floating in the air among the 200 individuals in attendance. These are the moments that literary events offer: moments that change us all at once, over and over.
Here’s hoping that the next time a literary giant graces our presence, a few more of this community’s diverse participants recognize it for the opportunity it is: an opportunity to grow, to learn, to be inspired and made better.
Have a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar and be at the next LitSeen attended event. See you around!
Amanda Nadelberg
Amanda Nadelberg reads from Bright Brave Phenomena at the Soap Factory
Around seventy-five friends, colleagues, and fans of poet Amanda Nadelberg showed up at The Soap Factory on Friday, April 27, to celebrate her second collection of poetry, Bright Brave Phenomena. In fact, a good amount of the audience remained standing at the back and off to the sides of the organized folding chairs during Nadelberg’s reading. The event was my first time attending anything at The Soap Factory, best known for its Haunted Basement every Halloween, and it was a pretty great introduction to the historic National Purity Soap Company building turned artworks laboratory.
Eric Lorberer of Rain Taxi, who co-sponsored the event with Nadelberg’s publisher Coffee House Press, welcomed and thanked everyone for their support. Lorberer was also sure to emphasize the importance of collaboration and supporting each other’s organizations as a way of strengthening the Twin Cities literary community. Fellow Coffee House poets Greg Hewett and Sarah Fox each read a short poem written in honor of Nadelberg. However, the best part of the introduction was Coffee House publisher Chris Fischbach’s homage—the first poem Nadelberg ever sent to him. Unsurprisingly, Nadelberg was charmingly mortified.
(from left) Chris Fischbach, Sarah Fox, and Greg Hewett read to introduce Amanda Nadelberg
Actually, Nadelberg was just plain charming. The Carleton College and University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop alumna was refreshingly unassuming, and her poems were striking . . . and fun. She engaged the audience as if she was just hanging out on a, well, on a Friday night. She even prefaced one poem by asking if anyone else had heard the news that Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon just renewed their vows. Nadelberg’s unpretentious demeanor would have made the newest newcomer to poetry feel comfortable, while her distinct form and style would have satisfied an avid poetry reader and poet alike, such as Coffee House’s Lightsey Darst and Ed Bok Lee and Graywolf Press’s Dobby Gibson, all of whom were there Friday to cheer on Nadelberg.
The reading was followed by ice cream from Cafe Crema, where Nadelberg was once employed, and a book signing by the author. Like most everything else that fine evening, the signing was simple and very informal—Nadelberg floated between the small groups of clustered fans with a smile, laugh, and signature. Nadelberg’s approachable yet challenging poems warmed the coolness of the stripped-down Soap Factory. I’d say the night was a perfect example of the energetic “litster” scene in the Twin Cities and a success for all involved—poet, publisher, sponsor, and audience. A very solid end to the week/start to the weekend.
For more on Amanda Nadelberg and Bright Brave Phenomena, check out her author page (with interview!) at http://www.coffeehousepress.org/authors/amanda-nadelberg/#author-books.
Have a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar and be at the next LitSeen attended event. See you around!
-SMS
Guy Delisle
Guy Delisle's Jerusalem (Drawn and Quarterly)
The globetrotting comics-journalist Guy DeLisle stopped by Magers & Quinn Booksellers on Tuesday, May 1 2012 to share some of his life expeirences, provide insight into his drawing process, and to promote his new book Jerusalem: Chronicles of the Holy City (Drawn & Quarterly).
How does an author read from a graphic novel? Do they describe the image in words, or does an audience member need to have a copy of the book to follow along? Also, what if the author writes in French, as Delisle does? Though some of his work has been translated into as many as twelve different languages (and Drawn & Quarterly’s new edition of Jerusalem is in English), most of the work Delisle discussed included dialogue penned in French. Fortunately, he’d developed a format that overcame both of these obstacles, and Delisle turned in one of the more charming, entertaining, and impressive readings I’ve attended.
Using a multimedia layout, Guy Delisle (pronounced, adorably, “Gee De-Lee”) didn’t read an excerpt from the book, as readers typically will. Instead, he gave a decades-spanning recount of how he became the specific artist he is today: from his beginnings as an animator, which required him to travel all over the world for short-term contracts, to his daily habit of sketching notes, which developed into the autobiographical travelogues eventually published by L’Association in Quebec, such as Shenzen, Pyongyang, and Chroniques Birmanes. For each of these publications, Delisle showed slides of sketches and final images from the books, discussing his experience of drawing them, and focusing their biographical significance rather than the narrative within the book.
Guy Delisle discusses his ridiculous life.
The question of biography vs. journalism was a prominent theme of his talk. As he explained, “For journalists, when there is an explosion, they go there to write because this is the hot story. For me, when there is an explosion, I don’t go there!” He is a visitor to these places, and his work simply describes the experience of being a foreigner in a new place—more specifically, it describes the experience of being a Canadian-born, French-speaking, infant-toting, comics-authoring foreigner consciously creating a travelogue about the place he is visiting. One panel from Jerusalem is a drawing of his own hand holding a sketchbook on which the illustrated version of himself considers a half-finished image. His work is by no means objective: it is a lesson in subjectivity.
The reading was set up in Magers & Quinn‘s smaller location, tucked between the poetry and popular fiction sections. Were it not for the space needed by the projector screen, the audience was large enough that it would have justified use of the room’s main space, where larger audiences have a better chance of finding a sight-line. The bookstore is one of the Twin Cities’s most consistent and valuable venues for readings, but it has been my experience that their events are often hindered by the lack of a devoted reading space. This one was no different, as people had to line up between aisles and crane their necks to see.
Delisle’s talk lasted about 45 minutes, during which the capacity crowd sat attentively, responding to his charming humor and rapt by his French accent. (“I am from Quebec but I am more French,” he explained. ”I have the French accent now. When I go home, they explain to me what is maple syrup.”) As an artist, his work is intriguing, but as a person, his life is fascinating: in that 45 minutes he casually mentioned living and/or working in Canada, France, Germany, China, Vietnam, North Korea, Burma, Ethiopia, Rio De Janeiro, and, of course, Jerusalem. Though, he did admit he might be slowing down as far as travel goes. ”Jerusalem will be my last book of this sort,” he declared in the Q+A session. ”The kids are too big now, and I want to do something new. Four books like this, it’s the same themes… culture differences, politics, the children, humanitarian work.” Next, Delisle plans to turn his attention homeward, both in the sense that he’s working on a project about his relationship with his son, as well as in the sense that he’s looking forward to getting back to Quebec, to seeing his home city as an outsider. Maple syrup, anyone?
-RHM
For a nice little video of Delisle’s method, check out this video. Were you at this event? Have a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar and be at the next LitSeen attended event. See you around!
The Great Twin Cities Poetry Read
by guest contributor Emily Wick
On Saturday, April 21, the third annual Great Twin Cities Poetry Read took place at Hamline University. About thirty poets, of vastly different writing and reading styles, sat in a line at the front of the room, facing the large audience and filing up one by one to read one poem each in quick succession. The event was sponsored by Coffee House Press, Paper Darts, Pocket Lab, Hamline University Creative Writing Programs, Water~Stone Review, Maeve’s Cafe, and Lowbrow Press.
Thanks to an energetic emcee, Matt Mauch, the pace of the night was ridiculously upbeat. Mauch introduced the poets with randomly chosen Shakespearean descriptions drawn from the “ceremonial beaver-skin hat”—for instance, the “motley-brained” Deborah Keenan and “bear-baiter” Carol Connolly (“How are you spelling that?” she wanted to know). These seasoned poets were accompanied by the likes of Dylan Hicks, Feng Sun Chen, and John Jodzio. Seeing Carol Connolly pat thse young writers encouragingly on the back when they finished reading was an endearing sight.
Hearing and seeing so many poets one after the other was a little dizzying. A few highlights were Lynette Reini-Grandell’s humorous but stirring poem about Tennessee Williams choking to death on the cap of a pill bottle, John Colburn’s lyrical and lengthy tribute to his personal history, (“In class, we were asked to write about monsters one day, and ancestors the next, and I realized I was writing about the same thing”), and Jeffrey Skemp’s sensual growl of a reading voice. Lee Ann Roripaugh read a poem called “Animony” about the way her mother’s mispronunciation of words gave them new meanings. Some poets explained a little about their piece before they read it, offering disclaimers (“I only like one poem of mine at a time,” Adrienne Mathiowetz said, “and this is that poem”), while others dove right in, like the theatrical Lightsey Darst.
At the end of the night, a deserving poet was randomly chosen to win a ceremonial thrift-store blazer (like the jacket won at the Masters Golf Tournament) with $500 in the breast pocket. Another won the opportunity to have one of their poem published as a broadside. The event, held in a meeting room at Hamline, could have used a more casual setting. The attitude of the host and tone of much of the work called for having a good beer. We’ll have to hope for a cash bar at next year’s Great Twin Cities Poetry Read.
Emily Wick writes for the blog Second Sun. She lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota, and likes to read, write, and explore.
Have a different take on this event? Chime in on the comments below! Be sure to check the schedule to the right and the Twin Cities Literary Calendar and be at the next LitSeen attended event. See you around!
Ivory Tower 2012 Launch Party
The 2012 Ivory Tower
The 2012 edition of Ivory Tower, a literary magazine of work by undergraduate University of Minnesota writers, artists, and musicians, celebrated its release on Wednesday, April 25 2012 at The Whole, in the basement of the Coffman Memorial Union. The book is a product of a year-long class in which undergraduate students learn and perform the entire process of creating a publication—delegation of responsibilities, calls for submissions, editorial selections, layout, design, printing, and now, finally, planning and hosting a launch party.
I wasn’t quite sure what to expect going into this event—I didn’t attent the U or have an opportunity to participate in a program like this when I was an undergrad. I spoke briefly with the one perennial constant of the Ivory Tower staff , the class’s graduate advisor and local poet Sarah Fox (Coffee House Press). Sarah seemed calmly optmistic about the night’s event. ”It’s all undergraduate work,” she made sure I understood, and when that didn’t cause me to run for the door, she explained a bit more about the program. Roughly, her synopsis was, “Every year its an entirely new staff of undergraduates, collecting submissions from other undergrads and putting the whole thing together… It’s a valuable thing.”
Sarah Fox receives flowers from her editorial staff
The reading itself was well attended by Staff, contributors, and their supporting friends (and a couple of nervous looking parents). The event was perfectly suited to the venue: the Whole Music Club is laid out like a tidy dive bar, with dark, low ceilings and chaotic wall art, yet organized and particularly well lit. The art recalls graffiti but is clearly intentional, commissioned work. On either side of the stage are large video screens. It’s a multi-purpose venue and has seen several local and national acts in multiple genres, which is why the Ivory Tower launch party fit so well. As the magazine incorporated fiction, poetry, and nonfiction into its pages, so too did it expand its submissions to include visual art and audio (the publication’s table of contents includes songs available to stream on the Ivory Tower website).
Alyssa Pintar covers Regina Spektor
The performances were many and diverse, with each reader and performer giving voice to her or his vision. Joe Kopel played a few selections of his Dylan-influenced rootsy folk songs; Laura Burnes read from her short story “Because of Herman Melville” (including one memorable passage, which I misquote: “I hate the term ‘Sugar Daddy,’ like it’s sugar I suck on. It isn’t candy, all shriveled up like Grape Nuts…”); Torsten Johnson read a handful of beat-style self-searching love poetry; and Mark Brenden overcame his nerves to share some of the finest work of the evening (prior to reading his poem “Hooray America,” he declared that “If my hands are shaking, it’s just because you’re all looking at me”). Alyssa Pintar welcomed us back form intermission by tearing the house down with her pian0-and-vocal performance; Sarah Moen‘s creaky-voiced reading of her short fiction “The Relentless Sun” gave the subject matter—aging and degeneration—a palpable feel; Tim Schumacher slammed us with his sci-fi masculine verse, the microphone popping the P’s of his closing declaration, “I AM THE PISTON! I AM THE PISTON!”; Sasha Chandavong slowed things down with the poignant and brief nonfiction work, “Vibhadi Road”; and Erin Murphy recited her poem “Erosion” from memory before concluding the night with a smile and a curtsy.
Torsten Johnson reads his poem "Touching"
The selections came mostly from the pages of Ivory Tower’s 2012 edition, though not everyone included in the publication read. And amazingly, none of the Ivory Tower staff was permitted to submit work, so many more clearly creative members of this community weren’t represented by either the words in these pages or on stage. The book itself is an achievement of layout and design, though: Shannon Fletcher, Teresa Hayes, and Megan Sharp are certainly a “design triumvirate” (their term) to keep an eye on. I particularly enjoyed the justification of including blank pages near the end of the magazine: “We learned over the course of this project,” went the pith of a statement made by one of the editors,”that our community extends beyond just the staff and the contributors. It includes the readers and the audience, and because you’re here tonight, you’re a part of this community too. So these pages are for you.” A touching representation of what this literary community means in all of its locations, shapes, and stages.
Much of the work on display seemed to still be searching for its persona, the work of a process more than a coherent expression. Yet for as tentative as the work may be, the performances were brazen and courageous. Ivory Tower captures a proud moment of transition in many young artists’ lives. The launch party for the 2012 edition of Ivory Tower was not so much a celebration of craft and accomplishment, but one of energy and potential. And though these attributes rarely appeared simultaneously, each abounded. A valuable thing, indeed.
-RHM
Were you there? Have a different take on the event? Chime in on the comments below. Also, check the schedule to the right and be at the next LitSeen attended event! See you around.
Minnesota Book Awards Gala
Hi. Well, I know it’s been a little while since this event, and I know a lot of other places have already covered it, but that’s kind of why we decided to wait a bit. No sense giving the same “here’s who won” recaps that MPR, Booksnob, TwinCities.com (Pioneer Press) and Linda White over at the Examiner.com have already provided, or the more “here’s what this event was like” recap Courtney Algeo (of Paper Darts and the Loft) offers up at the TC Daily Planet. In fact, there’s not a whole lot to say about the event that these fine reporters haven’t said (Linda White even mentions the cheese, which was, in my opinion, the highlight of the evening).
But LitSeen was there, and as such, we have a few things to say about it.
#1: While I was sitting in that enormous, posh, stuffy room (it got warm as the night wore on, and though the waiters did a great thing by circulating with wine and water, they couldn’t keep up with my thirst), I got to wondering whether it was our specifically tremendous literary community that makes an event like this possible, or whether other states have the same types of galas–by which I mean, do others bring their “book awards” to such faux-Oscars heights of pretense? Because any way you look at it, this is a pretentious affair. No disrespect to the winners or the event’s organizers, but this is a lot of social to-do for an industry that caters to homebodies, but I digress.
Other states’s awards ceremonies, and how they compare:
I’m from Oregon, the only non-New York state I feel compares to Minnesota’s love of the book, so that’s where I looked first. Turns out, their ceremony is this Monday, April 23, 2012. And from the limited information I could find on their website, they have a pretty fancy-pants event too. General admission is $17, and it’s $50 for a primo-seat. Seems pretty comparable to Minnesota. So then I wondered about a less literary state . . . like, say, Kentucky. No offense to any Kentuckians out there, and I only chose your state because I know little about it. But how closely would the Kentucky State Book Awards gala resemble our own?
Well, the first search result for keywords “Kentucky Book Award” was “Kentucky Bluegrass Award,” so maybe my judgment wasn’t too far off (also no offense to Bluegrass–love the genre). A minor bit of digging later, I discovered the “Kentucky Literary Award,” which seems to take the place of our state’s high literary honors. The way Kentucky’s award works is: “Eligible books include those written by Kentuckians or books with a substantial Kentucky theme. Fiction and non-fiction works will be considered in alternating years. The 2012 Kentucky Literary Award will be given to a work of fiction published in 2010 or 2011 that meets the selection criteria. The winner will be announced at the Southern Kentucky Book Fest’s “Meet the Authors” reception to be held on Friday, April 20, 2012.” One book, genres alternate years, winners announced at a reception within a larger festival. Not an event specifically devoted to the awarding of the prize, not a to-do about introductions, nominees, etc. A substantially different take on literature’s role in the community, it would seem.
#2: This leads me to another question I had as the ceremony unfolded: what’s the criteria for being a nominee or a finalist? The authors didn’t seem to be exclusively Minnesotan, and the publishers weren’t either. Wikipedia straightened me out: authors have to be Minnesotan. Though, in this highly mobile culture of ours, what does residency mean? You’ve sat in the DMV line and received your driver’s license? Or do you have to have some innate understanding of and appreciation for Minnesota, in which case, why aren’t writers like Jim Harrison nominated?
#3: Jeff Kamin, the returning host of the awards ceremony, did a serviceable job at impersonating an awards show host. Yet, something about his jokes rubbed me the wrong way. He’s a skilled and charming guy, and that’s a tough gig, but look: I’m not into books because I like schticky, smarmy entertainment value. I like the book because it’s one of the few remaining vestiges of our culture where content means something, where artists sacrifice their time, energy, and livelihoods to create a valuable expression of their experience, where we actually sacrifice our temporary selves for something more lasting, more vital, ultimately more important than ourselves. Though Lightsey Darst‘s stark declaration that we’re here “because books matter” was intense and awkward, it was the one moment of the gala that cut straight through the pomp and hit the core of the evening’s intent. I don’t like books for their fancy clothes and name tags; I like books for their ink and their spines. I’d gladly sacrifice the chandeliers and chocolate-covered strawberries if it meant more writers could commit more wholly to putting words on the page.
-RHM
Were you there? Have a different take on the event? Chime in on the comments below. Also, check the schedule to the right and be at the next LitSeen attended event! See you around.
D.A. Powell
Can you believe it? I’ve lived in Minneapolis for nearly a year and this is the first reading I’ve attended at the Loft Literary Center. How does a litophile like me go nearly an entire year without attending a reading at the Loft? It’s certainly not for lack of opportunity. I can only blame myself, I suppose. But no longer! I rectified the situation last night, Wednesday, April 18 2012, when poet D.A. Powell read a handful of poems from his newest collection, Useless Landscape, or A Guide for Boys (Graywolf Press).
D.A. Powell reads from Useless Landscape, or A Guide for Boys
D.A. (or does he use a full first name when only using his first name? I didn’t ask) was introduced by Dobby Gibson, and both of them spoke of Useless Landscape‘s similarities to landscape painting. Said Powell, “Painters are rarely in the landscape as they paint. They go there with their sketchbook, and select pieces to include later on,” which is a rough quote but gets the point across. In his poems, Powell lingers on certain poignant scenes and flitters over others, skims the surface of multiple themes and dives headlong into several. As the reading progressed, the marked eroticism became increasingly central to these landscapes, culminating in an an aside that unfortunately turned into a bad joke. ”I’m not a big organ fan,” he said of a poem about a church organist. ”Wait, that sounds wrong. I’m not a fan of organ music.”
The reading was moderately attended–pretty good for a poet on a Wednesday night. About two-thirds of the Loft’s Target Performance Hall were occupied, and clearly everyone was impressed with the poet and his work. After his final poem, the applause continued until D.A. stood up and waved, at which point someone requested an encore, and he obliged. One final short poem later, the audience retired to the lobby for refreshments.
As it was my first reading at the Loft, I should say that the space was perfect: measured lighting, comfortable sight-lines, a room with character and calm. The sound was superb, without feeding back or going tinny how some amateur systems are wont to do. I would say in all that this is no amateur system: the Loft is a finely tuned literary vehicle, and I’ll be coming back for sure.
-RHM
Were you there? Have a different take on the event? Chime in on the comments below. Also, check the schedule to the right and be at the next LitSeen attended event! See you around.
Denis Johnson
Denis Johnson reads from Train Dreams
On Wednesday, April 11 2012, Denis Johnson gave a reading at UMN’s Coffman Memorial Union Theatre. The reading was well attended, with a few latecomers scrambling to find seats in the 402-person capacity room. Johnson read from his recently published novella Train Dreams (FSG, 2011). Much like the text, his reading was a bit scattershot: jumping around in time and setting within the narrative arc. Between excerpts, Johnson flashed a bit of his veteran charm–he’s done this whole reading thing a few times, it seems. Little interjections about how he goes about preparing for a reading (“I have a recurring nightmare about getting up here and all these little bookmarks are gone,” he said in one pause) gave the evening an intimate feel despite the size of the crowd.
The Q&A session afterward gave a few fans the chance to compliment the master publicly, as well as to clarify a few nagging mysteries about Johnson’s work. He often disregarded the question (especially when it warranted disregarding) and responded with a semi-related explication of something that interested him. To sum up: the narrator in Jesus’ Son is the same person in all the stories. He started writing in second grade as a way to win over his loathing teacher. His favorite books: Leonard Gardner’s Fat City, Saul Bellow’s Sieze the Day, Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, and the first three novels by Robert Stone.
The book signing queue stretched up the aisle and out the door, and was held up by a couple of self-important jerks who brought every book they own so the poor guy could sign them. Sorry about that.
In the end, Denis Johnson’s charm in person matches the genius of his output, though the two don’t necessarily correspond. He’s as outwardly accessible as he is inwardly enigmatic; it’s a fitting paradox for a man who writes so stunningly about the joy and thrill of not being able to make sense of it all.
-RHM
Were you there? Have a different take on the event? Chime in on the comments below. Also, check the schedule to the right and be sure you don’t miss the next amazing literary event going on in the Twin Cities! See you around.
