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FEELING THE WAY
April 9, 2007

Mist Place got a bit knocked off its rhythm last week ... still learning its way in terms of what gets done in a day, what comes Mist Place's way.

This past week, there was a shift to being out and working in the evenings (Mist Place does also work days, though in rarely getting to Elliott Bay before 11 a.m., there are some who might venture doubt as when work is being done).

One night it was the young author Ishmael Beah, with  A Long Way Gone, the extraordinary memoir of his boyhood years as a conscripted soldier in Sierra Leone. It was his second trip to Seattle - he'd been in town in February, the beginning of his public whirlwind, as his book had been selected by Starbucks for however it is that they now feature books to go with their coffee and music. His Elliott Bay night followed one at the University Bookstore. That night had drawn well, we heard. His night with us drew hundreds, a wonderfully varied group. His way on his feet was most impressive, not seeming blurred by the repetitiveness of questions and naivete, taking each person and question on their own. There were people we knew in common to talk about, too. His editor Sarah Crichton: at a Farrar dinner at last year's BEA, not slighting any author of hers at the dinner, nor anything else she was working on, she nevertheless, when benignly asked what she was working/keen on, launched into an impassioned description of this book and author. There was/is also his agent Ira Silverberg, and his U.S. mother, the storyteller Laura Simms. She I have met a time or two. Along with Diane Wolkstein and Gioia Timpanelli (an old, dear friend), she is one of a few storytellers who have really made a go of that vital and ancient art over the years.

Another night it was Jay Rubin, now moved back, full-time, to the Seattle area, after retiring from years of teaching at the University of Washington and then Harvard. He is one of the foremost translators of Japanese literature today, most read now as a translator of Haruki Murakami's books (including the forthcoming, in May, After Dark). He had a good audience on hand for his reading and discussion of his translation of Akutagawa, the beautiful edition of Rashomon and 17 Other Stories that Penguin has put out. It's a book that's been selling well, and given even more of a boost by this reading.

Thursday, it was the poet/fiction writer/publisher/editor/community organizer and instigator Luis J. Rodriguez up at Seattle's Town Hall from his L.A. home under the presenting aegis of The Seattle Public Library. It was his second night of public presenting. He is someone we have worked with and known over the years, both for work in Elliott Bay and with Mosaic Multicultural Foundation, in which, with storyteller/mythologist Michael Meade, Malidoma Some, Orland Bishop, Jack Kornfield, and others, there has been a lot of amazing work with young people, some in gangs, some in prisons, some 'at-risk' (what youth isn't?) in the community, as well as those who work with youth ... or once were young themselves. Indeed, Mist Place got a bit waylaid one afternoon in the week when Luis sauntered in and met his Seattle-based collaborator Michael Meade. There were various plottings afoot, including Mosaic's nascent GreenFire Press book publishing plans, and about Luis and his wife Trini's own bookstore/cultural center, Tia Cucha, recently relocated. Most imminent and amusing was that Michael was flying to Los Angeles on Thursday, with Luis following him down on Friday, supposedly in time for a Friday evening program the two were doing, to be followed by a weekend workshop on mentoring. Sitting in the Elliott Bay Cafe, 1200 miles away, was the time and place they had to flesh out what they were going to do.

Luis' Town Hall night was riveting, with many poems and stories, some of the latter drawn from his memoir of gang life growing up, Always Running.

Fortunately for all, nothing was on the calendar for Friday. Good Friday was ostensibly the reason for the night of quiet (though memory recalls there was a possibility or two). Whichever, the city went from its usual cold, wet early spring mode to one of sudden warmed-up glory - the temperature on Friday neared 80, the city propped upon windows and doors, layers of clothing were shed, sunglasses found and donned. No one would have gone in to some book reading. Mist Place gamely tried to get some paperwork done in the afternoon - going over fall Random House catalogues for readings and event possibilities. Sitting at the desk, Mist Place was becoming Drowsy Place. Nodding off was happening. Finally, a whiff of inspiration - out and around the corner for a cup of coffee, then plunked out in the Occidental Square park across the street from Elliott Bay. There, under dappled shade, watching others dumbstruck by the sun and warmth, Mist Place perused the catalogues and made his little notes. It did seem abstract, pondering who might be by in October and November - on a day when this heat and light were just beginning to be comprehended.

Posted by Rick Simonson on April 9, 2007 | Comments (0)