VOICE Reading Series | Thursday | 7:30 p.m. | Krannert Art Museum.
The questions are simple. The answers are honest/snarky/awesome/nervous/humble/cocky (as most prose tends to be). Read on for all the reasons you need to check out the VOICE reading this Thursday.
Ashley Booth
Where are you from?
Fort Wayne, Indiana. I know, not very sexy or interesting, sorry.
Anything you really love or really hate about Champaign?
I went to Purdue as an undergrad, which has a town of similar size and structure but without the good food, good bars, and festivals. Then I lived in Boston for a while which is bigger but everything is unnecessarily expensive, the people are rude, and the weather is much worse. I guess you could say I think C-U is peachy keen. The Beer and Chili Festival is especially wonderous.
If you could have dinner/drinks with any three writers, who’d they be?
Oh hell. This could go in so many directions but lately I’ve really wanted to get in a room with H.D., Gertrude Stein, and Plath. They may not be my favorite poets but they were strong women ahead of their time doing crazy shit. You get those ladies in a room with a bunch of booze and I bet that would be a night not easily forgotten.
What’s the most unflattering comparison your work has ever drawn?
Last semester I did have someone tell me I was the worst poet they’d ever read. Although that may have had more to do with their thoughts on me as a person. I guess you’ll just have to come to the reading and decide for yourself. If you feel the need to start throwing rotten vegetables at me, try and miss the art.
How do you answer folks who ask you what you write about?
This is always an impossible question to answer. I guess lately I’ve been writing a lot about the body, gender, and unknowing. The older I get the more I realize how little I know, that comes through a lot. I always strive for my work to be accessible and enjoyable to everyone from my uncle (an electrician) to my peers. Poetry is for everyone.
What should we be on the lookout for when you read for VOICE?
Well potentially the worst poet you’ve ever heard. But since I’m starting the show, Lindsey and Max are so good, I’ll be a distant memory by the end. Always good to end on a high point.
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Lindsey Drager
Where are you from?
Michigan, where you spend your childhood summers collecting cans and bottles that line the margins of the roads. You turn them in for ten cent refunds. You buy candy cigarettes.
Anything you really love or really hate about Champaign?
I like ending my nights with a squint at the Brass Rail. And Jane Addam’s books and Columbia St. Roastery. I don’t like that the Champaign Public Library’s basement book sale only happens twice a week.
If you could have dinner/drinks with any three writers, who’d they be?
Barthes and Derrida. Luce Irigaray. John Irving, Lydia Davis, Kenneth Patchen. Antoine De Saint-Exupery? Oh, Henry.
What’s the most unflattering comparison your work has ever drawn?
Someone once called a story “cocky.” Which is fine, except show me prose that isn’t.
How do you answer folks who ask you what you write about?
I hate when people ask this. I used to say, “math and incest,” but I’ve learned to bite my tongue. Now I say, “the human condition.”
What should we be on the lookout for when you read for VOICE?
Narrative pointillism. And me, sweating, reading too slowly because it’s supposed to mean more that way, poorly dressed.
———
Max Somers
Where are you from?
Indianapolis, Indiana…a stone’s throw from C-U.
Anything you really love or really hate about Champaign?
Illinois has the same Midwestern feeling as Indiana. That is to say, it feels comfortably austere and melancholy. You know that ineffable emotion Garrison Keillor is getting at every week on A Prairie Home Companion, that’s it. I like comfortably austere and melancholy; I like Champaign, it’s a good place to be.
If you could have dinner/drinks with any three writers, who’d they be?
Three writers, ok. Tony Hoagland because he introduced me to some things I didn’t think poetry could do (be masculine yet vulnerable, funny yet sad, unpoetic yet all the more poetic for being unpoetic). Some of the New York School poets, like Kenneth Koch or Frank O’Hara, would be a fun bunch to grab a bite with. Dinner with some of the Beat poets might be interesting, too; eat a burger, drink a beer, and end up on an epic cross-country road trip. You bet! This is a hard question. Truthfully, I’ll eat a meal with anyone who’s buying.
What’s the most unflattering comparison your work has ever drawn?
Couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps this’ll change after the VOICE reading.
How do you answer folks who ask you what you write about?
Everything. The BIG story. America. Women. Happiness. Sadness. Winter. Spring. Machinery. Friends. Other poets. I suppose my answer depends on my mood and how much I think the asker cares about what I say. Typically, when I tell folks I’m a poet, they just nod their heads in an awkward way and say, “oh, well how about that…” then walk away. We don’t usually get to this question. Thanks for asking.
What should we be on the lookout for when you read for VOICE?
Oh boy. I’ll probably be pretty nervous, but I’m really excited to read.