Last night, The Missus and I attended a combined reading-talk-Q&A session with Margaret Atwood. (For the curious, if you’re ever in this neck of the woods in (mostly) February, do check out this arts festival.)
The bandwagon of people who believe that those of diminutive physical stature tend to compensate with outsized personalities and ambitions is one crowded bandwagon; it’s safe to say Atwood belongs in the stockpile of evidence. Atwood is a pixie, a sharp pixie: polite, well-spoken (well, duh), and good-humored but assertive. Questioners who hoped to throw her a curveball were likely to find themselves swinging and missing.
I had the usual problems with hearing it all, as well as some new ones.
(For example, the microphone was set up on a stand in such a way that from our seats — excellent in every other way — the stand, the boom, and the mike itself covered the mouth of whoever was at the lectern. Misery for someone who makes desperate enthusiastic use of whatever tools are available for hearing, especially lip-reading.)
But I did pick up a good part of the Q&A, somehow. It never fails to amaze us that elementary questions are asked of pretty much all authors — “When did you first know you were a writer?” and such. The upside: pretty much all authors are used to the questions and have excellent, well-rehearsed answers for them, and each author answers such questions in his or her own way: even the dullest questions get gracious, imaginative treatment.
One questioner last night wondered about one aspect of Atwood’s view of her novels: did she think it was more important to tell a story, or to communicate a message? (Atwood’s fiction is often “political.”)
Atwood’s answer was excellent, not just as a way of understanding Atwood herself but as a rule of thumb for understanding — and writing — fiction in general. I’m going on memory here, but her reply went pretty much as follows:
I think telling a story and having something to say are exactly the same thing.
When I saw Atwood, someone asked her why she told stories about unhappy families. Atwood asked the questioner why she was reading stories of unhappy families.
By the way, as someone who is above average in height (for a woman anyway), I am with the crowd that believes in the power of the diminutive stature.
I was going to come back later to comment when I had more time, but I liked my recaptcha too much: pickaxe advised.
I’ve never seen (or heard of, *ahemignoramusahem*) of this Atwood, but she sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll get to see her someday or find something she’s written.
Atwood was for many years my favorite author and I hadn’t seen a picture of her since she turned all grey. What a great photo! I can imagine her being a live-wire in person. And I of course greatly empathize with the hearing hurdles. They ought to have people’s lips projected on giant screens behind the speaker.
She looks like a live wire and don’t her answers suit her looks.
How annoying not being able to hear her. I often can’t hear people and I am meant to have good hearing. Were are good sound technicians when you need them? A great suggestion – the projection of huge lips behind the speaker… I would be mesmerised.
Recaptcha: ‘in context’
As for small people being characters, well small dogs bite you under the table and shetland ponies open gates and chase the other horses out but I don’t know what that says about taller folks…
To put this ‘in context’, this comment is from someone who is 5ft 10″, ha ha.
Just to clarify something about the sound system/setup in the auditorium… This particular theater is not the one typically used for concerts or readings/lectures. That theater is undergoing major renovations of a couple years’ duration, and will reopen sometime in late 2010. This theater is used for theatrical presentations; currently, it’s hosting the musical Rent, so the stage is very bare-bones and urban-gothic… and echo-rich.
As I said to The Missus on the way home, I didn’t plan to make any sort of official Big Deal about the sound quality, mike setup, and so on, exactly because I know it’s only temporary.
Or so I hope. If next year’s reading/talk present similar problems, heads will roll. (If necessary, I’ll hire a small person to wield the ax.)
marta: One of my favorite questions-and-answers the other night came from someone who began by talking about The Handmaid’s Tale as a feminist work, and wondered what Atwood thought about the progress (or lack of progress) made by women in the years since its publication.
It seemed to me that Atwood bristled a little. She said that to read that book as being about the plight of women (vs. men) is to set your sights too narrowly: it’s actually about totalitarianism, the result of a sort of thought experiment in which she wondered, What would it take to turn the US into a totalitarian state? What would the end result look like?
This might be a good point to mention the FAQ at her personal Web site, which says:
Darc: A while back, you were mulling over the question of what makes a “literary” work, vs. what makes a “popular” one. Atwood’s work might be a good place to look for examples of fiction which could be loosely classified as genre fiction — particularly SF — but widely regarded as literary.
The Handmaid’s Tale, which I mentioned above in the reply to Marta, is the book which a lot of people start with. You might want to read some about it before tackling the novel itself, though; disclaimers aside, she does often wear her politics on her sleeve.
Squirrel: The idea of having the lips projected on a screen — oh my God, why hasn’t anyone thought of this before?!? Right there’s the invention whose marketing will free you from day-job tyranny.
The mental image is a little Big-Brotherish. But if you work for Orwellian Industries you might be inured to that.
fg: One of the things they offer at that theater for people with hearing difficulties is an infrared headset, which looks like this:
The speaker’s mike feeds both the regular audio system and also a special infrared-signal transmitter. The headset/receiver plugs into the ears, and has an on/off switch and volume control.
I’d used (and loved!) these headsets before at plays in NYC but this was the first time I tried one here in the hinterlands. However, on this occasion — maybe just in this theater? — there was a lot of interference with the infrared signal, which produced static loud enough to distract those sitting around me. I kept the headset on for only 10 minutes or so, then turned it off and put the hearing aids back in.
(The staff was great with the headset, btw. Before we took our seats, one young woman tried the headset out there just to be absolutely sure that (a) the infrared system was turned on, and (b) the signal was reaching our specific location. Of course, she couldn’t test all conditions, though, particularly the presence of other people, the lapel of my sportcoat slipping over the infrared port on the headset, and so on.)
Sounds like you and Marta have enough height between you to intimidate anyone who’s looking out primarily for the short folks! :)
I am always interested when I hear her talk (as I often do because she is one of the BBC’s darlings), but I do not like her books.
Hello, Duchess — thanks for stopping by.
That’s the beauty of being a celebrated author, you know: people who don’t like their books still have the option of liking their media appearances. Those of us still laboring in the traces may be scintillating on the air; we may even get a chance to prove it; but we’ve still got a long slog till readers get a chance to like our writing. :)
I’ve never read Atwood, though I have heard of her. She looks like the little old lady who lives down the hall and tells you stories of the past that couldn’t possibly be true, but you believe her anyway!
I’ll have to look her up. Thanks.
That is an excellent response to that question.
cynth: I believe you might like her work; you’ve got a very open mind when it comes to genre, which will be a big help I think.
Having seen her in action, though, I think she looks more like the lady whom you patronize at your own peril!
Jules: Isn’t it, though? I loved the way she flipped some of the questions on their heads like that.
I’m surprised that Duchess does not like Margaret Atwood’s books. Her body of work is so broad, there’s something in it for everyone, from poetry to essays to sci-fi to books with some of the most compelling women protagonists I’ve ever read.
John, I’ve been to a few of her talks/Q&A sessions. Sometimes she’s a pistol, taking no prisoners. At other times, she can be quite tolerant, even of those annoying “questioners” who are really only showing off their own perceived erudition. I’m glad you got one of her more acerbic routines, which I think are way more enjoyable.