Last night Zesty and I braved the cold to attend a truly spectacular evening of readings at Harbourfront. Part of their weekly series, last night Vikram Chandra, Colm Tóibín and Neil Smith read from their new works. Of the three, Toibin, of course, stands out, the headliner who read last, he honestly brought tears to my eyes.
Sacred Games is a huge (and I mean massive) novel by Chandra, who read first. His readings were a bit dense but they did capture my interest both in terms of their subject matter (modern-day, crime-addled Mumbai), and their descriptive value. The third reading, of the passages the author selected, was by far the best. I’m not sure if it’s enough to pull me up and out into the novel, but there was a bit about women and marriage in his passage that grabbed me by its plaintive ache and sort of held on.
Neil Smith read about half of the first story from his Bang/Crunch, the collection that’s launched him as part of Knopf Canada’s New Face of Fiction this year. Tall, thin, impeccably dressed, Neil Smith’s reading was humourous and intriguing at the same time. The story, about a premature baby and her mother, and by extension her sperm donor of a father, was funny, insightful and urged me to read more.
But, as I said above, the true highlight of the evening for me was Tóibín. Wow. He sauntered on to stage looking like a middle-aged English professor in his jacket and thin tie, and his face has such deliciously deep creases that you could even call them folds. He started to speak immediately as he stepped behind the microphones, telling lovely stories about music festivals, troubles in Armagh and a trip to Australia. At first, you wonder where it’s all going, and then he read “A Song” from Mothers and Sons, and you slowly, as the narrative unfolds, realize that he’s showing you all of the inspiration for this particular story. I’m telling you, it brought tears to my eyes. Tears.
It was so awesome dude. I’m still grinning.