Instead of launching into a reading straight out, Julavits opted to explain the basic premise of the book to the audience. Makes sense, right? Give the audience some context for the passages you are about to hear, so they get the full impact. I've seen it done many times in the past with great success (David Mitchell & A.M. Homes come to mind as writers who have mastered the art of the quick summary of the work before reading the work) and could see no reason why this brief summary would be any different. Until.
Until Julavits stated, quite plainly, that her book was very complicated and difficult to understand. She said this, mind you, without a hint of irony. She meant it. She was proud of it. She seemed to indicate that the audience was possibly not up to the task of taking in its full weight, heft, meaning. Not the best way to endear an audience to you. But, alas, most were not Julavits fans and I unruffled my feathers, sat back and hoped she would veer away from the dangerous precipice of (dare I say it?) condescension she was about to slide down. As a good sport (and what writer who makes such claims doesn't then immediately profess to be?), she wanted to "explain" the book to us, just to be sure we were able to find our way during the reading. Fine. Great. Lead on Heidi.
She then explained that her book was about a young girl who faked her abduction in high school. She pointed out that because of this, part of the book covers her experiences during this faked abduction. She stopped, checking faces, as if to determine how much we'd retained so far. Seemingly satisfied with our ability to remember the first basic premise, she continued. Now, "to complicate things further" several chapters of the book are told from the point of view of the girl's therapist -- he's trying to determine if she really was abducted or if she's making it up. Further still, the girl in question seems to have either faked/not faked her abduction as a copycat of another faked abduction case that involved a girl from her high school years earlier. Another therapist then gloms on to both stories and feels that the young girl isn't being properly treated or diagnosed by her male therapist, so a new saga begins: sexual harassment charges against the male therapist. There's more of course. I could go into it all, but I won't.
She finished her wrap-up by saying "See! I told you it was complicated! Even reviewers are having a tough time with it." So - on the surface, yes, it is somewhat complicated. Somewhat bento boxish. Layers within layers and all of that. Fine. She was not fibbing when she said there was some complication. Yet. It's not that complicated. More to the point, I don't know that writers should strive for complication, delight in it, point out to others how truly difficult their work is with a sly smile. Something about that smacks of high brow-ness. Of I'm-too-smart-for-you-ness. I hate when writers make me feel like I'm not good enough. There's no reason for it. While I'm not the most well-read, well-educated audience member out there, I'm no slouch. I know what's what. So if I felt that way, how did others feel? Was it lost on them? Did they care? And if the writer is a good enough writer (and Julavits certainly is in my book), does any of this matter?
I have hesitated longer with the write-up of the Julavits reading for this very reason. I see a trend emerging. One I cannot ignore. It is the trend of the writer getting in the way of the work. Of the writer as someone I think I really want to know (as a result of their great writing) and look forward to seeing in person. Yet, inevitably, they are human. They are artists. Creators of fictions. They are all the things a writer needs to be and so by natural contrast, none of the things that readers want them to be. Or at least, that I want them to be. I'm beginning to feel like a broken record. Like the girl who cries "writer is snotty" too many times to be believed. So I have to step back and ask myself "what's up with that?" Is it me? Do I feel somehow less than all of these writers because I am a writer and see them as far more successful competition? Perhaps, but I don't think its as simple as that.
All readers have notions of what their favorite writers might be like. Some care a great deal about who they are and what they stand for, others don't care a lick as long as the good writing keeps coming. Others want their writers to be as bad as can be. Rude, loud, brutish, swearing. Bukowski readings come to mind. I fall into the odd camp of the reader who envisions sitting down to have a proper drink and a proper chat with the writer. Perhaps this is why I'm frequently surprised when academia seeps in. When it is subtly (or not so depending on the writer at the podium) pointed out that I'm possibly not smart enough to sit down and have a drink & a chat with the writer in question. When it is made clear that perhaps the writer in question might find me or anyone else in their audience a trivial bore. This is what gets me rankled at readings. I don't want to be made to feel somehow lesser, simply because I'm a reader of your book and not the writer. Am I the only one who feels this way? Perhaps. It could be that as a reader and a writer, my antennae on this is a little skewed. Overly perceptive in the wrong places. Even so - facts are facts. She said what she said. She certainly meant for the audience to understand her book was complicated and that even professional reviewers were having a tough time describing it. Take it at face value and make of it what you will.
I unruffled my feathers again, and sat back for the reading. Would the writing shine through the condescension of the introduction? Or would it be more of the same?
