Last night, I went to hear a 50th anniversary reading of Howl. I don't particularly like Howl or Ginsberg or the Beats. Earlier in the week, I told a friend (who is a big Beat fan) that while I recognized the cultural significance of the Beats, I thought their writing was lame (or something to that effect). But, yesterday I heard Gary Snyder talking on NPR about the first reading of Howl, and he made it sound exciting (or at least worth considering). Partly in an effort to be more open-minded about my tastes and partly because I had nothing else to do, I went to the reading.
The evening began with quite a bit of obnoxiously self-indulgent poetry by various local poets, a film interview that Trent Harris did with Ginsberg, and some decent jazz music. Then, Alex Caldiero, self-proclaimed "sonosopher" chanted a dirge for Ginsberg and then (as the advertising for the event claimed) "channeled" Ginsberg for the reading of Howl. His reading was pretty impressive. I was downstairs from the library's auditorium in the overflow section and there were moments when you could hear Caldiero's voice reverberating down the stairs. I still don't like Howl much, but I can certainly appreciate its energy.
Not surprisingly, I ran into my friend who loves the Beats at the reading. We (the friend, his wife, and a couple of their friends) were going to go out for coffee afterwards, but D. somehow got himself invited to the after-party at Ken Sanders' (the used/ rare bookstore for you non-Salt Lakers). We walked over and there's a list (which of course we weren't on, but because D. is friendly and often loiters at the store they let us in). I've never been to any party with a list, so I felt all at once slightly cool and totally lame. I would be tempted to do some name dropping here, but I'm not even hip enough to know who's who. I will say that when we arrived, Scott Carrier was tending the bar, which I found awfully charming.
I realized that there are people who belong at parties like this and those who do not. I am among the latter. I don't know how to schmooze or network or converse with strangers or whatever one does at such parties (and more so, I don't particularly care to). While we did wander through the crowd a few times to get food and drink, we spent the hour we were there hidden among the stacks. And when you consider that we were chatting amongst all the P's and S's of the literary world, it was a pretty good way to enjoy a party.
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9 comments:
Scott Carrier is better than all of the Beats combined.
You don't like Howl? What about the They Might Be Giants version of the poem?
TMBG is better than all of the Beats combined.
Yeah, but what about that Ginsberg poem about Walt Whitman in the supermarket? That poem rocks. Plus, Howl rocks. As do TMBG.
I agree that, in general, the Beats are overrated. A bunch of woman hating (in the most general sense) homosocial men. But Howl rocks. And the grocery store/Whitman poem rocks. Gingsberg is over all pretty cool. Kerouac is overrated. I'll arm wrestle anyone who disagrees. Also, Alex Caldiero is a bit too enamored of his own ingenuity. I'd pay good money to hear Scott Carrier read Howl though. The deadpan, zero intonation. Golden. I used to think I was a party person and I do think I know how to schmooze. But in my last year of grad school, I'd go to parties ant talk to the same person for two hours and then we'd go home. So now I go to parties that are two to four people. It eliminates the line at the bar. But I do like to people watch. I am jealous.
I agree with E, that you could fill in this sentence--"Blank is/are better than all of the Beats combined"--and you'd probably be right. Also a nod of agreement to Lynn's comment about Caldiero.
And I think hearing Scott Carrier read Howl would be a transcendent experience. Wow, maybe they could work that out for the 51st anniversary.
I keep wanting to write something here, but just don't feel like I'm whitty enough to be in such crowds.
Could you imagine if literary readings were like sports events? Think of some group chanting "OVER-RATED" whilst hearing a read of Howl. Think of the various taunts that could be leveled at pretentious jack asses like certain poets I will refrain from naming here.
Think of it.
See, that was my original (mis)understanding of what a SLAM was supposed to be. It was supposed to be a punk rock poetry experience with full audience interaction. No?
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