Today I realized that what I wrote yesterday I really wrote today: everything from December 31 I wrote on January 1, i.e., today, and what I wrote on December 30 I wrote on the 31st, i.e., yesterday. What I write today I'm really writing tomorrow, which for me will be today and yesterday, and also, in some sense, tomorrow: an invisibile day. But enough of that."
—page 527, The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño
Saturday afternoon was the latest live performance of A River & Sound Review, which also podcasts shows on the months when there is no live performance. This live show clearly demonstrated a literary organization that is leaving its infancy behind. This show was better organized and trimmed of the excess fat of RSR's first few offerings—it was leaner and flowed better than ever before.
The musical guest was Puyallup singer-songwriter Kristin Connell. She poured her heart into her three offerings, even with slight sound problems due to vacationing sound operators. (The two normal sound operators were literally on vacation, leaving sound duties to master of ceremonies and RSR founder Jay Bates.) She played an opening number, another in the middle of the show, and closed the festivities with her final song. This worked well. In the past, musical guests played one or two short sets. Having the songs interspersed throughout the entire show helped to highlight the music and the readings.
Poet Adrian Gibbons Koesters followed the first song and introductory remarks of Jay Bates with a reading of five or six poems. I enjoyed the earthiness and ordinariness of her poems. They took the everyday and made it vibrant and alive.
Next was "Name That Book," where a member of the audience attempts to name a book and its author from a clue and its first sentence. If they cannot then they receive three choices and are allowed to ask for help from the audience. I always find this funny, but would be terrified to have to be the person in the spotlight. Therefore, I have great admiration for the person selected, no matter how well he or she does.
The keynote reader was Kent Meyers. He read a gritty piece about death and family from his novel The Work of Wolves. I could picture the protagonist's grandfather lying dead upon the ground after an accidental fall from a horse. I could see the death and smell the last nicotine-laced breath as it left the body. I could feel the protagonist's pain as he had to tell his mother that her father was dead. I haven't read the novel, but this selection surely whetted the appetites of a few audience members. It was wisely chosen as a set piece with which to "sell" the book.
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A River & Sound Review is one of those local offerings that make life in a small town great. I look forward to future live shows, as well as future studio productions.
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