Literary Salon — Blog Content

This “borrowing” from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous quote about the rich kept working its way through my head as I listened to award-winning poet Christina Pugh talk about her work and her process at my recent Literary Salon. Though his comment was disparaging, mine is meant with all admiration and, as one Salon guest put it, “awe.”

I’d met Christina in 2013 at what we both can only describe as a “celestial” experience at Ragdale, an artist’s retreat I’ve mentioned before in these posts. I’d been tremendously moved hearing her read her gorgeous words, delivered with a voice that invited us into a truly uncommon experience, and wanted to share. When she told me she had a new book out, Perception, we set a Salon date. However, of the nine Salons I’ve held over the past eight years, only one had featured a poet, and it was a bit of a hard sell to get my avid fiction readers to come out for it. That Salon, featuring the wonderful Parneshia Jones introducing her book Vessel, was a tremendous success for those who attended. I wanted an expanded audience to drop whatever “perceptions” about poetry might be holding them back and get re-excited about the literary form.

“I’m in Love With the Sound of Language”

I asked Christina to provide a frame for the audience to set the scene for her work by talking about Why Poetry? And how she’d come to it. It was at that point I realized why my early classroom attempts had been so miserable and that I’d made the best choice to stick to prose. I don’t have the ear.

“I’ve always heard the inflection of language on a street corner and it seemed natural to me to want to make something out of sound, that wasn’t exactly story telling.” Rather, Christina explained, her “something” was to be “less about story and more about diving deep into a moment and the perception of sound.”

She spoke of her verbal fascination with words and our strong responses to them, as well as her love of the process. “Poetry forces you to write in lines versus paragraphs, to establish a push and pull that uses voice and pauses to direct a reader through a sentence or a phrase.”

To illustrate, she began by sharing “Rotary,” an elegy to the phones we grew up with in this age of touch screens. She then read select other works as she moved to Perception’s more experimental Versa poems, where the pieces have both a back and a front, like a tapestry—one side showing the external face, the other on the flip page, the knots behind.

The Roaring Crowd

I was wrong about my audience. Never have those who couldn’t make it been so regretful. And, we had the biggest crowd yet, the best post-reading discussion. As one of the guests said, “we just want more.” As you will, too, when you listen to these videos.

I will be posting additional videos on my website and in my Facebook author page. More is just a click away. Perception, and all of Christina’s four books of poetry, are available on Amazon. As you read, imagine Christina’s voice and just…hear the incredible sound of language.

Perception

“Christina Pugh’s Perception transports us, from its opening starburst of phrases, through ravishing particulars. . . .”

— Phillis Levin

“. . . I already find myself returning often to these beautiful, intricate meditations, grateful for what they release, grateful for what they restore.”

— Mary Szybist

Featured Videos

View More Videos Here →

Rita introducing Ellis Goodman at her ninth literary salon

I swear I didn’t plan it, but there was a lot of irony and surprise going around recently at my ninth Literary Salon. The featured author, Ellis Goodman, here to read from his new novel, The Keller Papers, brought more than a fascinating story both on the page and behind the scenes. He also unknowingly teed up the world event to happen later that evening, as well as resurfaced a bit of history between him and me.

The Backstory

More than a few years ago, when he was CEO of Barton Brands, my public relations agency at the time, Dragonette Inc, pitched Ellis for the Corona beer account. We had just left Edelman, so we were a young agency with a short list of smaller clients—Corona would have been a big coup. We jumped through hoops to demonstrate spectacular results for our modest clients with their tiny budgets, assuming he would, of course, easily extrapolate—“Wow! If they can get all this for only that, imagine what they could do for my big-budget beer!” Alas, his only words were, “It does seem that you have a lot of clients without much money . . . ” (I remember it verbatim). We were so charmed by his polite British accent and gracious manners that it took a while to realize we’d been rebuffed . . . and that he’d left the room.

Déjà Without the Vu

The next time I saw Ellis, he was hosting the premiere of Mulberry Child, a film he’d executive produced based on the book of my great friend Jennifer Kwong (Chinese aka Jian Ping). He didn’t remember me from Adam (which, I have to say, is rare when you have red hair, so I was a bit miffed). Cue the revenge scenario, said my inner storyteller. Let me count the ways I could reveal our previous encounter . . . Too contrived, I thought. It would never sell. So I behaved and introduced myself as Jennifer’s friend, a writer, only to learn that he had finished a novel himself—Bear Any Burden—and was in the painful throes of getting it noticed. The coincidental revenge plot crumbled before me. After all, now we were compadres. I had to love him, right?

I let the cat out of the bag at the launch party for The Keller Papers … he did a little head shake as if trying to remember our past association and hoping it wasn’t “Did I fire her?” My memory jog didn’t work either. Nonetheless, we were now both in the same profession. His novel sounded intriguing, and I invited him to be featured in one of the Literary Salons I hold periodically in my home to introduce new books to avid readers. (Or, as Ellis put it, “the most interesting group, so knowledgeable and committed to the written word.”)

The Author

So, what do you call a man who started his career as an accountant, rose to lead an international beverage company, invested in Broadway musicals and movies great and small, and now follows in the Cold War thriller path of John le Carré? Renaissance Man seemed cliché. Did I mention he is British? I introduced him as James Bond, of course.

Ellis set the scene for his story by describing how, when his cousin traced his family tree back through many wars to Poland in the 1770s, he knew he had a story, then taught himself how to write it. He went on to combine his personal history with his eclectic background. For example, one of his main characters, Sir Alex Campbell, heads a UK-based international spirits company which gives him cover to travel behind the Iron Curtain to occasionally do “little things” for MI6, while tapping his far-flung relatives to aid in implementation here and there.

The Setup

Our always great, post-reading discussion focused on history repeating itself as his story unwound from the Nazis to the Stasi—similar arrogance, intractable feudal and religious alliances and, above all, dangerous nationalism. I mentioned that several years ago, le Carré had lamented the fact that the “fall” of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War had made it challenging to come up with equally compelling plots. However, he has a new novel ready for release this September—George Smiley back to deal with a similar world situation. Being in the zeitgeist is good for writers, not so much for the rest of us, we agreed as we discussed how hard it is for things to change and history to progress.

The Explosive, Surprise Ending

Later, as the last two guests and I were polishing off the end of the cheese tray, I received an alarming email from a friend—something right out of a novel. I read it out loud: “Hope this isn’t the end of the world. I would miss not seeing you again.” We quickly turned on the television—it was shockingly unreal and yet familiar—visions of smoke and destruction. Could this really be happening or was it a movie? Was it good or bad? Now, f***ing what?

Then we realized, at the precise moment we’d been bemoaning the “hamster wheel” of the unlearned lessons of history, the US had been in fact doing it all again by bombing Syria. The story had written itself.

And yet, I’m certain, if I put this scene in a novel, it would be edited out as too implausible. No one would buy it.

Blog Content

Poets are Different from You and Me; They Hear Life and Experience it Through Sound