... WHY ARE LITERARY READINGS SO EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD? (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)
This is a chronic problem with American writers, many of whom simply don't cultivate proper enunciation and do not how to project their voices properly or read expressively. Words are not figurations on a page. They are utterances of the voice. Once, I introduced John Banville, Sebastian Barry, and Colm Toibin for a reading at the main branch of the Philadelphia Free Library. All three were excellent, Sebastian in particular, though - he, of course, also writes plays.
Thanks to Hugh McGuire, here is a podcast of the Banville-Barry-Toibin reading.
Post bumped.
Hah! I just listened to that talk by podcast last week:
ReplyDeletehttp://libwww.library.phila.gov/podcast/?podcastID=227
Do you think it's fair to compare North Americans to the Irish though?
Well, Hugh, the Irish may especially good at it, but the English are quite good also. We just have a tendency to speak more sloppily, I fear. Thanks for sending along that link, though. I'll add it to the post, so people can hear what I mean. Unfortunately, they'll have to listen to me, albeit briefly.
ReplyDeleteThis drove me crazy in grad school -- I did CW degrees at both the master's and doctorate level and I kept arguing for a performance class. So many writers were terrible at reading, and there was some weird resistance I couldn't figure out to learning how to properly perform your work. And could poets PLEASE learn to stop using "poet voice" -- that awful, breathy, sing-songy voice -- shudder.
ReplyDeleteWow, I thought that nasally whiny monotone clone drone voice was the sovereign domain of Blanada (courtesy of Margaret A.). OMGulp, it's North American? No wonder I don't get around much anymore (and, never do public readings EVER; I am just way too expressive for our tastes and my poetry is way too narratively inflected for the confishinal thang). Any readings I did attend, during the sixties and early seventies, though, were magnificent ones, really dramatic; and, Charlotte, I cannot but agree with you that a course in performance is what's overdue.
ReplyDeleteI agree, not surprisingly, with Judith. I've never understood why some writers don't understand basic theatre, including those who write in a noticeably theatrical style. I've given a few readings, and my job every time has been to make sure that the audience is entertained, bemused, or otherwise engaged with my performance. Even if they don't LIKE what I'm doing, at least they'll be curious.
ReplyDeleteI once spent a whole day constructing a large scroll to accompany my performance of a very unusual essay. Likewise, whenever I've been asked to read pieces, I take great care with getting the voices right. Much of this has to do with theatrical and voice training from a bygone time in which I once pondered theater as a career. This can just as readily be applied to interviews, whether in the role of questioner or subject. But if you're having fun, then chances are that someone in the audience is having fun. And some writers don't seem to find fun at all with crowds who have schlepped out to see them. Which is a shame, because that's one of the things that's killing literature. And since there's barely any money in this, one must ask why they're in this business in the first place.
can i suggest, perhaps, honing the craft of reading aloud while contributing to a worthy cause -- free public domain audio books -- by reading for http://librivox.org ...?
ReplyDeleteYou know, later, Ed, I was thinking about those readings and those who gave them; and, yes, invariably, they were trained in voice projection, enunciation, articulation, etc. Also, one of the most memorable? Irish! Seamus Heaney. I will never forget it; I "saw" his work, it lifted itself right off the page, it was a willing suspension of gravity, I think :).
ReplyDeleteIrving Layton, Al Purdy, The Four Horseman, Daphne Marlatt, Milton Acorn (who once took Miriam Waddington to task at a reading from the audience because she wasn't expressive enough and he was ejected from the reading space, I kid you not!), George Bowering, Bob Buckeye, Ted Enslin, Leonard Cohen, Nicole Brossard, Ron James, Victor Coleman, Kathy Acker, Robert Creeley (to a lesser extent), Eli Mandel (and, even, Marshall McLuhan whose mother taught Elocution in his home [when he was going to grade school in Winnipeg] to students and he picked up a lifelong dramatic voice to live for)?
Same zing thing.
Udderly passionate, braying, mooing, and inclusive; each looking the audience in the eye, all electrifying. (Wow, I just fell through the space-time continuum remembering all the great performances; and, ultimately, that's what they were, unforgettable entertaining performances.)
The last reading I gave (at Toronto's Rivoli), the one inked into my contract (because my publisher at the time knew my aversion to same)? Instead of reading from the book I was (ostensibly) promoting, I read a set of Spenserian stanzae I'd written (three pages of 'em) called "The Big Fuck." And, I memorised the thing; plus, at one stage in "TBF," the lines read, "Just leave me a cigarette / That and an exactor bet / On when the thing will drop . . ."
And, at the moment I said the word, "cigarette," I paused, rocked back on my (high) heels, relaxed, and lit up a Lucky. Very UnCanadian (because nobody memorised anything except my now-deceased friend, Gwen MacEwen, who taught me how and why, given her Greek leanings, to do it; and, yes, she was always very dramatic, grippingly, mesmerisingly, ingatheringly so, in fact. Gawd, I miss her :(.)
I can't reveal my sources
The hyenas and the horses
The predatorial courses we chart
But the captain's still estranged
And the deck chairs are arranged
In the shape of a broken heart . . .
(Ha! I can still recall the whole flippin' thing, The Hole UnHoly Big Fuck! [circa 1995].)
But, your scroll idea, the prop, the echo of Kerouac, all of it, Ed? Reading is, consummately, a performance (or, IMO, it should be); otherwise, stay home and read the book because the voice in your head doesn't differ much from the voice on most stages in public readings. John Donlan? Give him a few beers? Whoa! He's amazing to hear; but, again, in this millennium, an exception.
I would have loved to have seen your performance; did anyone make a video of it that could be put on YouTube? The first reading I ever gave? It was taped; but, that was 1975 and I was reading about Hazel the Stripper from Victory; and, funnily enough, I was wearing this ankle-length denim jumper and the shoulder straps kept falling down (and, if you could see how flat-chested, er, mountainously challenged, I am, you'd understand why "funnily" is exactly what I mean).
Sadly, all those documentary things were lost (A Space, Mercer Union, The Morrissey Tavern, The Bev, those places, they were ahead of the game in terms of A/V; but, it was reel-to-real and a lot of it decayed and a lot of it got lost after evictions). Sad; it wasn't our fault; we just didn't know; we didn't have the tech-knowledge then we do now.
OMGasp, I sound like my mom :). She said I would! LOL. But, it does excite me and I do think that's one of the reasons why "literature" is less relevant in this decade, even. We're artists juggling linguistica magica (regardless of genre); and, somehow, ISTM, we should do it (poetic) justice and honour the gift given us.
Another thing I often did when I did read? I juggled (only three oranges; but, it was comic relief; also? I used to live with a great guitarist, David Baxter who played rhythm for David Wilcox, and he would do some musical stuff as well, mostly Ray Price and Jelly Roll Morton). Nothing costly; but, it made a helluva difference. We have an obligation, IMO. Maybe, jes' mebbe, we'll return to remembering what a writer does when it comes to a true valuing of both the work and humanity, not necessarily in that order, when publishing is publicking (as it should be).
Thanks for the stroll down Memory Roll-Call Lane, Ed . . .
Love, Moodith :)
p.s. Frank? Bet you noticed Colm Toibin was one of the Giller-Thriller judges, eh? Yeah, hey :)
Well, Judith, I am now immensely curious about "The Big Fuck." You couldn't get away with the Lucky today, although, come to think of it, maybe someone needs to do that at a reading.
ReplyDeleteNo, there was no video made. I have a tendency to sometimes give quiet and anonymous readings. I don't really know if I'm permitted to until I actually have a book out. Maybe we need to record more of these videos in case anybody wants them. But the theater lover in me believes that the only real performance that matters is the live one, and it simply can't hold up nearly so well on tape. And juggling, Judith? I have NOT seen a juggler during a reading EVER!
You subversive you, Edward! Of course, I'd get fined (and finer and finer; but, debtor's prison has its advantages, n'est-ce pas? Wasn't squash invented in the UK in debtor's prison? I'd get off my sedentary arse and get some exercise).
ReplyDeleteInteresting problem, though, come to think of it; if it's part of a performance, an integral part, could one argue for artistic aesthetic integrity (based on representative veracity or some such gookledygab I just invented? Hrm. Well, I could; but, I'd prolly lose the arg since I'm a finger dame, not a mouth-offer).
I'll see if I can either type or scan "The Big Fuck" sometime this weekend; I wrote it in a very emotional state; Jay Scott, the renowned film critic for The Globe, had just died of AIDS and that deeply upset me; so, it's dedicated to his memory (because of the rampant homophobia and lack of research dollars given to AIDS/HIV which still kills any too many; it should've been cured by now; a vaccine ought to have existed by now; but, it's not in the best interests of the pharmacorps to accomplish that, IMO).
I just finished downloading the Marilynne Robinson (and thank you for making it available in your B.S. mode); did the comment appear on your blog? I got the dreaded 404 (twice; then, didn't want to be a spammer ma'ammer). No need to reply; I'll go check once I've listened to the mp3; am curious to hear her voice, too.
Yep! I can still juggle three of almost anything; that's what happens when you get a lot of detentions in Junior High . . . then, you get the munchies and eat the apples or oranges or peaches . . . (which go good with Alice B. T. brownies, eh?).
You won't hear an argurant from me concerning the immediacy and moment-by-momentum of live performance, it being its own creature, not given over to "fixing" it in a tangible medium; but, if you ever do that kind of thing again, I hope I can be among the audience oglers.
And, I did mean to say your theatrical background doesn't surprise me; there's an element of it evident in your prose, even, now. (I am thinking of your tribute to DFW which was stunningly unique, inviting, and supremely, a sustained performance few accomplish under unimaginable conditions, let alone relatively normal ones; it is gorgeous, though; and, it helped me, a fact for which I shall always remain grateful.)
Judith: Not sure if you'll find this comment, and apologies for the late reply. On deadline and all that, deadline now beat. Dave Lull pointed me to your later post about "The Big Fuck," and I will investigate this all eventually. But you have intrigued me further! The comment was approved. Whether or not you can juggle three chainsaws is another matter we will have to take up with the appropriate reality television show judge. Thanks on all fronts. Rest assured, should I ever be commissioned for the book tour circuit, I intend to not bore the audience.
ReplyDeleteDear Ed, no apology necessary; glad you motivated me to put up the thing; you're very kind, though, to take the time to let me know what I do know you're experiencing since we're in the same boat . . . er, could you pass me that life-jacket :), SVP? As and when, as the Brits say; every reader's a gift;, and, each one's worth their weight in wonderments. G'Luck with yours; and, good. Good? Yeah, good, it means I can look forward to more great mots from you, too!
ReplyDeletep.s. Right now, I can juggle millions of snowflakes since we've had half-a-foot fall since midnight; and, it's down to eight below tonight so, maybe next year on the chainsaws, man, I could get rich that way (er, um, dead? / LOL)
p.p.s. If you ever do a reading tour, I hope I can see the sight for soar eyes in the fresh, truliously