Ethan Switch - Friday, September 2, 2005 - Print Version
And so as the great and indefatigable once pondered, "Why do places such as this often have the best acoustics?"
Not one to read names off a list, a man standing guard for tickets to the talk in the Mitchell Wing of the State Library asks questions upon self-referential questions. Hilarious, if not for the fact that with the name down clearly on the bottom of the list, an easy miss is done for sure. Glasses do not help everyone improve their reading sight.
With his initial instinct to merely jot down the name bearing down on him harder than the might of careful examination, payment for the night's talk is a completely voluntary afterthought.
Refreshments are as usual, all done and gone by eventualities. Empty and lonely toothpicks on plates reveal that the time is high on nigh for the four authors to begin their talk and discussion.
Cold sales of the books freeze as the lectern takes hold of a body. Rippling pectoral and abdominal muscles of three men for the American Crew poster stand under the lectern. Their placement is not without question as the other sponsor, industrie, stay to a bag in a corner. Next to the audio equipment and discreetly out of the way.
Host Stephen Reilly (Ninety East Ridge) settles the room after the introduction from SL U35 coordinator Vanessa Bond. On the three seater, authors Sarah Macdonald (Holy Cow! An Indian Adventure), Lucy Lehmann (The Showgirl and The Brumby) and Charlotte Wood (Pieces of a Girl and The Submerged Cathedral).
From the challenges of facing an expectant audience to subterfuge through the use of a pseudonym, they peel stories about the conditions behind their first efforts. Reilly occasionally chimes in to shed light on such trials as the hardships of pitching genre-loose books.
With each author in various stages after their debut, it's a great mix of perspective. The author of one with no intention or current drive for another. The one overcoming the impending release and finality of the successor. The one with two in the bag and a third on the way.
Macdonald relaxes instantly as she recalls her time in India and the circumstances leading up to her publication. Lehmann, looking far younger and more nervous than she insists, asserts herself as a "damned good writer" and warns of words that appear outside of the printed page. Wood slouches from the other two and is the only one with a wine glass on the table.
Of a conversational freedom, their discussion and ruminations on "the dreaded second book" proves to be an informative and insightful time.
Tiny speakers hanging up around the gallery do little to carry anything well. Weak from the onset, their struggle against the might of naturally buoyant voices curses to their own existence.
Distortions of a distant and disparate brace hamper the natural tone and create a sense of tunnel vision for the ears. The position of the authors and the combination of audio tweaks betrays the distance. Despite being no more than one metre away from the front row, their voices start from the wall behind and often exist no further than three ahead.
Dissonance of the acoustics creates an aurally static feel to the night.
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