Last night, I participated in a reading of Eliot's iconic poem, The Wasteland. In preparation, I've spent the past month listening to recitations of the poem on Audible, various podcast episodes, and YouTube videos. There is, of course, the required listening to T.S. Eliot himself read it--even if his auditory imagination is a stack above his auditory performance. There are fan readings by strangers among us that are enjoyable in their own right, especially since these are often recited in the first, neutral and plodding tones we ourselves may have silently read onto the poem upon finding it.
In college, when I was assigned to read The Wasteland (with a gentle suggestion that we should read it first without the footnotes), I came to class ready to discuss it and found that my professor Trena Evans had wheeled in a TV and a black and white recording of people reading it. And what a smart move! Listening to the actors suddenly settled the poem into its hills, valleys, tavern conversation, birdsong, and distant gramophone music--and I was dazzled. Dazzled. That I was living in downtown Chicago, away from rural life for the first time in my life, must have made The Wasteland a poem peculiarly right for helping me understand this place and life where I now found myself.
And now, over twenty years since I first carried The Wasteland around in my head and on the far edge of the country, I've spent many running miles this month listening to it again, and other solo moments reading it. And how wonderful! How necessary! To have Eliot's words actively moving in my brain, changing the colored lens I see life through. As I ran the Bitterroot Runoff up 3,000 ft of increasing elevation, Eliot said to me "In the mountains there you feel free", and I thought, I do not feel free; I feel tired. So Eliot and I had a bit of a joke there. When my preschoolers and I were walking through the park and had to turn around, I saw our shadows and Eliot said, You see how it rises to meet you. And I thought, Yes, there it is! Then I said, Look at our shadows! to the child whose hand held mine.
All of this is to say that living inside a poem, a great poem, is a wonderful, meaningful experience that I have missed. Rolling it around as it rolls me around as a marble in wind. Of course I recommend it. And if you begin searching for the voices of those who call the poem into what it can become, then I absolutely recommend this dynamic, stellar, and deeply considered performance of The Wasteland by Fiona Shaw:
It has been a hot minute since we last met up for good words by other people, but I'm glad that you've checked back to see if a new edition might be up. It is! It's a rainy day in my part of the world, and we are slogging toward April, but it's officially Spring, so that's a new word to think about being inside.
Poems:
"Whatever Gets The Hay Down to the Ponies" by Maya Jewell Zeller (from her book Out Takes/Glove Box)
The Riveter by Ada Limรณn (from her book Bright Dead Things)
This April, I'll be returning home to visit family and to share stories from my newest story collection, Unexpected Weather Events.
Below, you'll find the calendar that will lead us to each other, book-wise. Please bring yourself (and your friends, your neighbors, and your family). <3
๐ฎ
April 3: Bloomington, Indiana
Reading and Book Signing Caveat Emptor (112 N. Walnut, Bloomington, Indiana) Book signing 6:00-7:00 PM; Reading 7:00-8:00 PM Free and open to the public
April 4: Casey, Illinois Hometown Reading, Discussion, and Book Signing 7:00 PM-8:30 PM (Central Time) Turner Arts Hall (306 E. Edgar Avenue, Casey, Illinois) Free and open to the public (https://www.facebook.com/events/2373769422819728)
On Wednesday, April 3th, I'll be in Bloomington, Indiana's oldest bookstore, Caveat Emptor. I'll be signing copies of Unexpected Weather Events from 6:00-7:00 PM, followed by a reading from 7:00-8:00 PM.
The stories revolve around rural villages and the surreal relationship among grief, love, and loss. In one story, a child explains a war that now surrounds the cornfields and playground; in another story, a family sells their house after the husband and father dies by suicide. Snow turns to blood, a mass genocide occurs in the stone quarry at the end of a country road. And yet birds still sing, a mother hides oranges in a winter yard, and a widow decorates for Christmas.
I grew up attending plays and musicals put on by local high schoolers at Arts Hall, a brick building near the high school that contained the home-ec classes and a modest theatre. Later, I would perform on that stage myself, in The Music Man, Cheaper by the Dozen, and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes--among others. Since those days, I've appeared on that stage only in nightmares in which I've completely forgotten my lines and decide to wing it. I am not quick on my feet in nightmares.
Hopefully, my return to that stage will go much better. I'll be bringing Unexpected Weather Events to Turner Arts Hall on Thursday, April 4th--thanks to the Casey Township Library Friends of the Library group who is sponsoring the event. I'll read from the book, followed by a discussion led by my former high-school English Teacher Mrs. Pierce. Copies of Unexpected Weather Events will be available for purchase.
The event is free and open to the public, and I hope that you'll join me.
A few weeks ago, I was honored to share Unexpected Weather Eventsas the guest at Northwest Passages Book Club, a recurring salon-like event hosted by the Spokesman-Review and featuring regional titles and authors. Thanks to everyone who worked the sound, lights, and all the technicalities, and to Lindsey Treffrey for making the experience welcoming and comfortable. The seats were all full, and the audience and I had a very good conversation after the more formal discussion. It's a lovely event, and if you live in or near Spokane, you should definitely attend the next one if you haven't before.
I'm excited to say that I'll be sharing Unexpected Weather Events in Indianapolis this April! I'll read from the book followed by a Q&A and book-signing. I've always wanted to read in Indy, not only because it's one of the nearest cities to where I grew up, but also because my best friend grew up there and when I met her in college, Indy became my favorite place. I wrote the story "A Game of Telephone" in Unexpected Weather Events after she died, as it was one of the ways I coped with the loss--by embedding the grief in familiar games or folk stories, rewriting them from an angle that I needed to now understand.
The book event will be hosted by Indy Reads, a non-profit organization with a mission to support literacy, create community, and provide opportunities to strengthen oneself and others. They run a bookstore and provide workshops, tutoring, conversation circles, author events, and many more positive opportunities. I'm so honored to take a part in their mission, if only for a few hours, and I'm looking forward to learning more--so I hope that you can attend and learn more with me. You're absolutely invited. The event is free and open to the public, but registration is encouraged: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/author-reading-erin-pringle-tickets-861025780287?aff=oddtdtcreator