The formal public literary reading I attended was presented in the MUC bookstore in January. This literary reading featured the poet Raphael Maurice and non-fiction writer Joann Condollone. Having never attended a live reading before, I found the experience to be incredibly gratifying and it incited my curiosity to attend other similar events. As someone who greatly enjoys writing and grew up as a voracious reader, I am not entirely sure why I have not attended a reading prior to this one, aside from simply not being aware of their prolific existence. I found the experience of attending a reading to be interesting for a variety of reason and with consideration of both the performance and literary factors at play.
Due to my great interest in theatrics, I found myself often too focused on the performance aspect of the reading. Both the writers had both differing writing styles and different speaking styles. Interestingly, their writing seemed to parallel how they read. Joann Condollone read with great ease and fluidity which mirrored her writing that reflected on her life experiences. Her style of reading made it clear that she was reliving memories and provided an atmosphere of nostalgia.
In contrast, Raphael Maurice read with a little more edge and abrasiveness. His writing matched this vocal style and tonal energy with its sharpness and precision. His poetry did not strike me as relaxing or contemplative in the same fashion as Joann Condollone’s writing, which was further enhanced by his reading quality. Personally, I believe that age also played a role in their contrasting vocal energies. Raphael Maurice, a younger writer, seemed more nervous and concerned with the public reception to his work. Joann Condollone seemed to merely lay her work out into the room and allowed the audience to take it or leave it. I did not necessarily find either to be more pleasant or interesting to listen to than the other, but the contrast was highly interesting to note and reflect on.
Throughout the reading and in its aftermath, I have also been wondering how different the vocal energy of the reading would have been if the writers had been reading work that was not their own.
Would it have produced a more or less confident and assured reading?
I can see it leading to either.
On the one hand, it may be easier to read your own work because you are sharing personal life experiences in a voice that is your own. There are fewer surprises and awkward structures, what comes next is known. Due to this, reading self-produced work may be more fluid than reading the words of others.
However, along with reading personal work may come more self-consciousness. The thoughts and emotions (and in the case of Joann Condollone’s nonfiction, experiences) are personal and directly connected to the person standing up and doing the reading. There is a bit of security that goes along with reading words written by others. Sharing another person’s story and thoughts and feelings can be much easier and less personally revealing. As someone who is not highly experienced in reading their own work, I cannot speak to which would be easier. I just found it to be a question I was continuously considering. Much of the answer may also be dependent on the personality of the person.
One of the aspects of the experience of attending this public literary reading that I found to be the most interesting is also the one that is the most difficult to properly articulate. The writers both read their work as though it were something alive. By seeing the creator of the written work read their creation out loud, it felt like they were giving it life and enabling it to breathe.
I have often heard the expression of “kill your darlings” (or maybe it is “kill your babies,” either way the sentiment holds) in relation to creating any kind of work. Oftentimes, artists have to know when to walk away from something they have invested a great deal of time and effort into. Writers have to know when to set down the page and abandon it. In the case of a reading, a public audience is able to receive the darlings that were not killed.
There was something very exciting and intriguing about that.
The work they read aloud was the work that made it to fruition. It was the writing that crossed the finish line, whether viewed as perfected by the writer or not. Bearing this knowledge in mind, it is easy to see how they could infuse their writing with such life by merely speaking the words on the page aloud.
I am quite grateful to have had the opportunity to hear completed work from the voice of the creator who could have killed it.
