July 27, 2012

This week, we’ve got poignancy and comedy, love and resignation on tap.

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Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand, by Walt Whitman
Read by Xe Sands

Xe  writes…

Whitman. I mean come on…I haven’t done any Whitman yet?? Wait..what’s my inner voice saying – that I never thought I liked him?

Yeah, well heck with that nonsense.

I might not have appreciated Whitman back in my school years (*cough*prude*cough), but as I’ve gotten older, I feel as if I’ve finally lived enough, done enough, lost enough…well, really, loved enough to open to the emotion Whitman lays bare. You think Lawrence lays it all out there for you to see? Ha! Not so. Lawrence is conflicted, struggling, always struggling. Whitman, in contrast, is exuberant and completely bare. Oh, he’s not always Mr. Happy, but he IS always exuberant, bursting with life and living and aching to share it with you, the reader, his most intimate friend.

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Tom Jones – Book 1, Chapter 1, by Henry Fielding
Read by Mark Turetsky

Mark  writes…

This is the first entry in an ongoing project, in which I plan to record the entirety of Henry Fielding’s classic comic novel, Tom Jones, one chapter a week, over the course of four years.

Abigail Adams Letter to John 1782
Read by Diane Havens

Diane writes…

Ever since playing Abigail Adams in a production of “American Primitive” a play based on the letters of John and Abigail during their long years of separation, I have been fascinated with these beautiful correspondences. They reveal not only the depth of the love between them, but their insights and opinions about the events of the early years of American history. This particular letter was written while John was in Europe, borrowing money from the Dutch in Amsterdam, then taking part in peace negotiations with England in Paris. But every one of the hundreds of their letters is a treasure. I chose this one at random. I have read them all, more than a few times, over the years. They still bring me to tears.

July 20, 2012

This week, we’ve got the whimsy of monkeys and Wonderland, the poetry of passing, and some harsh but inspirational words for creative neophytes…

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The Walrus and the Carpenter, by Lewis Carroll
Read by Diane Havens

Diane writes…

One of my storytelling presentations for elementary school aged children is called “Nonsense and Stuff” featuring the best of classic whimsy. Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll were always included, and I’d introduce the stories and poems with a more modern quote from the Marx Brothers’ movie “Horsefeathers”–
(Quote: Connie: Oh, Professor, you’re full of whimsy.
Professor Wagstaff: Can you notice it from there? I’m always that way after I eat radishes.)
“The Walrus and the Carpenter” is taken from the well known and loved Alice tale “Through the Looking Glass”. It’s pure silliness, but often over zealous adults who love to analyze and literary critics (whose job that is, after all) look for meaning in the madness. Is there a moral? Well, as the Duchess says in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, “Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it”.

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From F. Scott Fitzgerald to Frances Turnbull…a letter
Read by Xe Sands

Xe  writes…

This came my way via the wonderful Letters of Note, although I’ve since found it plastered all over the web…and no wonder. It’s a wonderful and honest bit of advice from a seasoned writer to a budding one.

Fitzgerald’s commentary on what is required of new writers, the “price of admission,” as he calls it, reminds me very much of Ira Glass’s commentary on the the progression of a creative career. Actually, the two pieces complement each other perfectly. What Fitzgerald is really saying is that when you’re lacking in the expertise to artfully execute your craft (which you will be at the beginning), you have to give it absolutely everything you’ve got in place of that expertise.

I couldn’t agree more.

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Gone from My Sight, by Henry Van Dyke
Read by Karen Commins

Karen  writes…

This poem attributed to Henry Van Dyke is a lovely and thoughtful analogy for the soul’s passage from this life to the next. I dedicate this piece to the memory of my dearest friend Michael Estrada, a beautiful, kind, and gentle soul who passed much too quickly from this life on 10 July 2012. It is my hope that his friends and family, as well as anyone who is grieving the loss of a loved one, may find comfort and solace in its words.

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The Autobiography of a Monkey, by Albert Bigelow Paine
Read by Mike Vendetti

Mike  writes…

The whimsical tale of a monkey moving from the jungle to civilization.

July 13, 2012

Of kings and bards and the profane this week…the beauty of Britain, the sensuality of peaches – Shakespeare and Lawrence.

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Peach, by D. H. Lawrence
Read by Xe Sands

Xe  writes…

It’s a weakness, I confess it right out. I have a weakness for Lawrence. I can’t call it a fondness as that would imply “like,” but there is obsession and there is reluctant love…and neither are the same as “like.” So here we are then.

Yesterday, via the Paris Review (on Twitter), I came across a collection of Lawrence’s poetry that I don’t remember knowing about, although I admit that when I started reading them, there was a visceral familiarity about them that I couldn’t place…college memory perhaps? Who knows. All I do know is that the opening and closing lines “Pomegranate” made my breath catch in my throat.

In exploring a few of the others, I came across “Peach,” and it felt simply right for this week’s offering. I can’t explain (and wouldn’t if I could), so don’t bother asking, but there was a synchronicity about it that appealed to me.

If you choose to pick up this collection, fair warning: this is Lawrence with the gloves off (shredded as they were anyway). This is David Herbert slapping you in the face with it, grabbing you by the hair, not allowing you to look away…without apology.

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Richard II, Act 2 (excerpt), by William Shakespeare
Read by Diane Havens

Diane writes…

“This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise …”

Just returned from a wonderful week in England, and these famous lines that John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, delivers in Richard II kept running through my head. Over the years, I’ve memorized them, without really trying, the strength and beauty of the words just staying with me from reading and hearing them so many times. The first lines of this soliloquy are well known, the ones I have recorded here and underscored with music, are jingoistic words of praise for England. However, there is more to the speech, of course, which paints a bleaker picture of the England in the play, and it ends with these lesser known words that change the entire tone and meaning of Lancaster’s observations:

” … England, bound in with the triumphant sea
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death! ”

July 6, 2012

Still a *bit* hungover from our #JIAM Audiopalooza, but we’ve taken a few aspirin and pulled ourselves together to offer up dreams, with a side of loss & patriotism.

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Real Dreams, by Matthew Glenn Ward
Read by Matthew Glenn Ward, shared by Diane Havens

Diane writes…

I “met” Australian author/publisher/artist Matt Ward some years back, and though he is not a pro voice actor, he nevertheless was one of our most dependable and enthusiastic volunteers during the Hearthebill project (nonpartisan effort recording the health care bills during the long, heated debate months before a law was passed). He’s a fabulous writer, and gifted digital artist/designer, whose book and magazine covers never fail to impress. I’ve been an occasional contributor to his wonderful literary magazine, SKIVE, most recently to the intriguing “Real Dreams” issue from which this recording is taken.
His blog, http://matthewglennward.blogspot.com/ Also, check out SKIVE at http://www.skivemagazine.com/ and Mary Celeste Presshttp://www.marycelestepress.com    MATTHEW WARD lives, writes & publishes in Newcastle, NSW Australia.

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The Brambles, Part 1 of Little Birds, by Sarah Flynn (published by Little Fiction)
Read by Xe Sands

Published in 2012 by Little Fiction
http://www.littlefiction.com/beta/Sarah_Flynn_Little_Birds.html
Copyright 2012 by Sarah Flynn; recorded with permission
Layout and design of cover by Troy Palmer

Xe  writes…

Ever since happening upon Little Birds by Sarah Flynn via Little Fiction’s tweet stream and recording the second story in the collection, How the Light Gets In, the other two stories have been pecking away at me . This week, I’m having a go at the first story in the collection, The Brambles.

Again, I’ll say that Little Fiction and the authors publishing with them are offering some great pieces. Some are rough and raw, some are polished smooth, but all are worth your time.

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(a real) DREAM Dreamed, by Diane Havens
Read by Diane Havens (with Rajiv Hasan as Rafa)

Diane writes…

I rarely remember my dreams, even more rarely dream about celebrities, and most of what I can recall of my dreams are very surreal, so it’s no wonder I remembered this one in such detail. I told this dream to my family (before breakfast, mind you, so ….) and it was around this time that SKIVE magazine, skivemagazine.com , compiled by author and publisher Matt Ward, was coming out with a real dreams issue. So it was fated to be included, or so that was my analysis. The analysis of the dream is easier — my son Ian plays tennis, we were watching Rafa play that day, I was thinking about my own career direction and future choices …. the pencils? Well, I was always fond of a good Dixon Ticonderoga No. 2.

When Matt suggested that we dreamers record our dreams to post as audio, I was hesitant, since the dream, being real and pretty much un-embellished by much dramatic license on my part, might not make compelling listening. So, I immediately thought of a collaboration, and since Rafael Nadal is not really a friend of mine, I thought of someone who is — and just happens to be a gifted voice actor, expert at linguistics and accents, and a master of impressions. Rajiv Hasan. He delivers the Rafa lines and that alone makes it worth the listen. (And twice the fun for me!)

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Letters Across the Atlantic, a patriotic poetry mash-up
Read by Robin Sachs and Xe Sands

“Composed Upon Westminster Bridge,” by William Wordsworth
… and “The New Colossus,” by Emma Lazarus”

Xe  writes…

Just a little something extra from Robin Sachs and me, in celebration of our joint history, love of our countries, and respect for each other. Originally released on July 4, 2012.

Independence Day Edition!

Special Independence Day edition of Going Public, featuring a bit of love, respect and patriotism for and from both sides of the Atlantic.

Letters Across the Atlantic, a Patriotic Poetry Mash-up

Featuring: Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, by William Wordsworth and The New Colossus, by Emma Lazarus
Read by Robin Sachs and Xe Sands

Xe writes…

Robin Sachs and I have one last trick up our sleeve, this one just a little something in celebration of our national pride and mutual respect.

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch,

The City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning,

whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning.

silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

an her name
Mother of Exiles.

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome;

Never did sun more beautiful steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock or hill;

her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

“Keep, ancient lands, your stories pomp!” cries she
With silent lips.

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
You huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

And all that mighty heart is lying still!