(Some) Literary Readings Suck

We at Harriet don't hate all readings. Still, we've all been victim to windfests. So, yeah, many readings can and do suck. Many don't, though. Anyhow, here's an article by Michael H. Miller at The New York Observer that echoes some recent sentiment on the trouble of public readings/readings at bookstores, etc. A bit, from the subtly titled "No One Cares About Your Reading."

A few months back, The Observer was at a reading on the Lower East Side that would not end. The reader, a prominent magazine editor, had been staring at a stack of computer paper and talking softly for 30 minutes. He was the last reader. The night had begun at 8:00 and it was already well past 10:00. The room was crowded and hot. The bar was unreachable. The audience, following protocol and remaining silent, exchanged restive looks that suggested mutiny, checking the time every minute in disbelief. Forty-five minutes passed. The reading continued.

Is it a coincidence that this is how parents get their children to go to sleep? It is a dark fate, indeed, the reading that drags on and on, where the only person who has lost interest more than the audience is the author, the room lost in a purgatory of pauses for laughter, met by awkward silences.

And yet!

In most cases, poetry is an exception. As a form it was initially meant to be read out loud, unlike novels. The nuances of rhythm, accent and internal rhyme crystallize when spoken. Paul Muldoon, The New Yorker’s poetry editor, is one of the great readers alive today. His voice alters with every change in tone and he’ll often pace around a room, his whole body responding to his intricate rhythms. He’s a performer, but as a testing ground, he doesn’t see a reading’s usefulness.

“The idea that one might ‘try out’ a poem in front of an audience is a bit like inviting 500 people to dinner and ‘trying out’ a new recipe one’s cooked for the first time,” Mr. Muldoon said. “Of course, sometimes there are revelations when one reads a piece aloud. An infelicitous phrase, an awkward rhythm. Unless infelicity and awkwardness are what the poem has in mind. The business of reading aloud is a performative one. As such, it’s completely manipulative. One’s usually not learning a lot from the experience.”

See you at the next Muldoon reading.