Theodora Bishop, an Inprint C. Glenn Cambor Fellow, is a woman of many talents. In addition to being the author of a chapbook of short stories, Mother Tongues, winner of The Cupboard’s 2015 contest, she was a Best New Poets nominee and her work has appeared in such well-known journals as Glimmer Train, Prairie Schooner, Arts & Letters, and Short Fiction (England). She is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Houston’s Creative Writing Program, and her latest publication, On the Rocks

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: Your novella, On the Rocks, won a 2018 Next Generation Indie Book Award. What was that like and what’s different with you and your writing now that this book is out?

THEODORA BISHOP: My husband and I were about ten hours into our drive from Texas to Pennsylvania when I received the news. I thought it was a mistake at first — I’m fairly certain we were listening to a book on CD and mowing down licorice; I was in a whimsical headspace. I was delighted when it turned out it wasn’t a mistake, and doubly delighted that On the Rocks was recognized as a novella. I think the novella is an important narrative form, and one which I relish reading, studying, and working in.Eva (the protagonist in On the Rocks) feels like an old friend, so I’ve enjoyed working on new fiction that feature similarly-minded characters who feel like they could be pals with Eva, if the novella’s universe of Ship Bottom were to slip into theirs. A great thing about the book being out is that I don’t touch the manuscript anymore; there’s been a place cleared in the cupboard, so to speak, and I’m happily immersed in new material.

MATTHEW: One of things people often note as to why they enjoyed On the Rocks so much is the use of humor in it. Humor is often an overlooked narrative tool—what’s your attitude toward it?

THEODORA:  My favorite books (and, oftentimes, people) blend a sense of humor with the serious. One of the reasons this resonates with me is because humor seems like one strategy people use to cope. As a reader, I appreciate characters that find themselves using comedy as a means to combat less favorable circumstances. On the Rocks is about a twenty-eight-year-old woman trying to come to terms with the death of her best friend — a man she claims to have been in love with since she and he were children — while preparing to serve as Maid of Honor at her mother’s second marriage. The first part (grief) is the more serious half of the equation; the second (Maid of Honor) is, on the surface, the comical (although Eva’s role here is also painful to her — she lost her father, her mother’s first husband, five years before the novella begins). The first line of the book is intended to not only set up the stakes, but to leave the reader with both tastes: “It was springtime, a year after Sebastian died, when my mother phoned to tell me she was throwing a bridal shower for herself, and I’d sure as dickens better be there: ‘You’re the Maid of Honor, Eva. So no excuses, m’kay?’ ”

When I was working on the novella, Eva’s grief preceded her mother’s impending second marriage/request of her daughter. I love standup and am a fierce advocate for artists excavating the “unsaid.” One of the delights I get from reading an author or poet I discover a particular kinship with is in feeling less alone, or recognized, because this writer has put a finger on the pulse of something I’ve experienced but have been unable to articulate or directly acknowledge for myself.

MATTHEW: You have a slew of publications, so I’m curious as to what your writing process is like. Is it relatively straightforward, are you someone that labors intensely for long hours every day, or is it some combination of both?

THEODORA: It’s relatively straightforward in the sense that I write as often as I can. I establish a routine based on where I am — in terms of jobs, school, travel, residencies, etc. The most writing (in terms of quantity) I ever accomplished was on a fellowship year in my MFA. I wasn’t teaching and had already completed coursework, so my days were spent writing and reading and wearing my pajamas for absurd stretches of time. I treated the funded time to work on my writing as a gift, and I am not one to let gifts go to waste (read: give me a carton of Cella’s cherries, and I’ll be glad to eat them all in front of you). I’ve never had a predetermined number of hours/pages/words to complete that I sign off in blood to. The amount I generate fluctuates based on what I’m doing/what works best for my routine. This year I’m taking a full course load, I’m teaching, and serving as a genre editor for two journals. I also have a wonderful husband and a cat that I want to spend time with (the second isn’t hard to accomplish — the majority of what I’ve produced in the past five years has come to fruition with her in my lap). Things that fall outside of those responsibilities tend to go on the backburner until I get my writing in. One of the wonderful things about being a writer is you can always keep what you’re working on with you — your subconscious is always hungry. So when I feel like my life circumstances have cut into the time I’d normally spend on my work, then I remind myself to kick back, relax: your subconscious is feeding. Whatever I’m working on at the time seems omnipresent. It’s there, like the best kind of secret.

MATTHEW: You serve as Poetry Editor for Gulf Coast: A Journal of Literature and Fine Arts and also have a number of poetry publications. Do you find your poetry informs you prose and vice-versa? What’s that relationship like?

THEODORA: I’m sure that it does, but almost always in retrospect. My discoveries while working in fiction and poetry are so distinct from one another. With fiction, I feel like I’m casting a net into the dark, and crossing my fingers that whatever I pull up I’ll be able to arrange into a meaningful order that pleases and surprises me afterward. With poetry, I’m always in the woods. It sometimes feels like I’m trying to guess the number of candies in a jar — the only catch is, I was the one to originally put them in the jar. In other words, I feel like I come to some answer I buried from the start. I’m very sound and voice-driven across my work, so I tend to start from a sense of voice. Whatever waits for me at the end of the line in both genres is what compels me to write.

MATTHEW: If you had to tell us about two authors that maybe we aren’t familiar with who would they be and what about their work do you enjoy?

THEODORA: Barbara Trapido has a delicious sensibility. Her writing is exquisite for its sentences alone. Shirley Jackson I’ll mention because though many may have read “The Lottery” or are otherwise familiar with her name, I’m always encouraging others to familiarize themselves with her novels. We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House were groundbreaking for me. (Also, there is a charming character by the name of “Theodora” in The Haunting of Hill House. It’s rare for me to see my first name in print, so there’s that).

MATTHEW: Are you currently working on any big new projects? If so, can I ask what it/they might be?

THEODORA: My latest poems come from my playing around with a vision of sainthood – sainthood for the twenty-first-century girl/woman. I’m drawing from the stories of the saints, St. Lucy in particular, and mashing those ideas up with issues for young girls and women I see happening today. My current fiction projects all draw from a contemporary sense the gothic and are largely about women. I write a lot about anxiety and am interested in breaking stigmas related to mental illness. I think a good deal of that interest was rooted in my undergraduate and early graduate school years, and my experiences with, or watching friends struggle with, related issues.

MATTHEW: If you saw someone at a bookstore who was clearly indecisive about buying your book (let’s say this person is an author themselves who has never known what disposable income is), how might you intervene so that he/she might understand why they need the book in their lives?

THEODORA: First, I’d be honored. Then I’d be embarrassed — I’m often embarrassed; I’d have a good deal less to write about if that wasn’t the case. So depending on the vibes this potential book-buyer gave, I’d probably either bury myself in the stacks or creepily watch the person’s decision-making play out from a distance. I’d hope they’d buy it, if only to figure out for themselves why there is a mermaid on the cover, and why she looks so cross lounging across that rock.

The post Houston writer Theodora Bishop wins 2018 Next Generation Indie Book Award first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

Alex McElroy

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: Daddy Issues is a chapbook, which is a kind of publication that people may not be familiar with or typically associate with fiction. What exactly is a chapbook and how did this work come to be so?

ALEX McELROY: Chapbooks are normally shorter than full-length collections—and, like you said, they’re often associated with poetry rather than prose. In my case, I chose to write a chapbook because I had a series of stories that didn’t fit into a full collection—tonally, thematically—but which worked together quite well. I didn’t want to give up on those stories just because they weren’t right for a larger collection. So, I gathered them into a chapbook. Publishing Daddy Issues was an opportunity for the stories to speak to each other without forcing them into a full-length collection of stories. Here, the subject matter and themes feel more concentrated than they might in a larger book. And I’m very glad that the pieces were able to find a home together in Daddy Issues.

MATTHEW: As the title suggests, this work has to do with fathers in all their “splendor and flop.” From an aesthetic or philosophical standpoint, what prompted you to explore this particular theme?

ALEX: Part of putting together a collection is the unveiling of unconscious obsessions. Fatherhood was one of those obsessions for me. This is partly to do with my own father—I won’t pretend like it isn’t. My parents split up when I was a baby, their divorce both catastrophic and subdued. I was too young to know the divorce, but I grew up, became a conscious human, in the aftershocks of their failed love. My mother dated new men, married new men. I got to test out other fathers while seeing my own every couple of weeks. I grew up seeing fathers as temporary figures and transitory. Furthermore, my grandfather, who lived next door to my mother and me, was paralyzed a few years before I was born. Once a domineering, independent patriarch, he spent the last twenty years of his life becoming increasingly vulnerable and reliant on family and professional caretakers for help—I was the only one in my family who never knew him before the accident. This altered my conception of men, fathers in particular, and that vision of fragile fatherhood kept reappearing in my writing. Throughout Daddy Issues, I write about fathers in decline, the barriers to male grief, the self-defeating practice of masculinity. I tried to accomplish this through different styles and forms. There’ve been many domestic dramas about bad dads. I wanted to broach the subject from a different angle in an attempt to expose the cracks in the masculine project.

Throughout Daddy Issues, I write about fathers in decline, the barriers to male grief, the self-defeating practice of masculinity. I tried to accomplish this through different styles and forms. There’ve been many domestic dramas about bad dads. I wanted to broach the subject from a different angle in an attempt to expose the cracks in the masculine project.

MATTHEW: From your list of publications and your young age, it’s clear that you can produce work quicker than most. What are your beliefs/ideas concerning the writing process?

ALEX: My ideas about writing are pretty straightforward. I write every day, which is largely how I produce so much. Even if it’s only for a couple minutes, I try to always make time to write something for myself. I write as free of distractions as I can—I shut off my phone, unplug my router, hide them both far from my desk. I don’t have the willpower to keep them anywhere near me. I am also lucky to be married to a brilliant writer, Allegra Hyde. We’re great at writing alongside each other for hours. This holds us accountable to each other and to the work.

It’s also important for me to read or watch or listen to art—to interact with it in some capacity—every day. Thankfully, Houston makes that easy. If reading doesn’t stir me, I can walk to the Menil or go see a movie. Seeing art makes me want to produce art. I feel lucky that there’s so much excellent writing in the world right now.

MATTHEW: Who are some authors that you feel influenced the stories in this collection of stories?

ALEX: The Swiss modernist writer Robert Walser is one of my all-time favorites, and this collection must be indebted to him in more ways than I know. Donald Barthelme was also a huge and fitting influence. I borrowed a lot from the novels and stories of Alexandra Kleeman, whose work I deeply admire for its intelligence, strangeness, and heart. And I’m a sucker for pretty much any book put out by the publishing house Dorothy: A Publishing Project: Renee Gladman’s Ravicka series, Joanna Ruocco’s Dan, Jen George’s The Babysitter at Rest, and many more. All the books I mentioned are eerie and funny and excitable—and that’s what I aimed for in Daddy Issues.

MATTHEW: Certainly you have other projects in the works right now, can you talk about a current favorite and how it may or may not diverge from the writing in Daddy Issues?

ALEX: I can’t name a favorite! But I will say that the project I’m most invested in right now is my novel project. It’s about two best friends who start a cult for disillusioned middle aged men, and it expands on a lot of the ideas I grappled with in Daddy Issues, things like American excess, grief, and the self-defeating nature of masculinity.

MATTHEW: If, for some reason, you were arranging a window display of Daddy Issues and a bookish-looking person saw it from the sidewalk and came in to ask you why they should read it, what would you say?

Daddy Issues is part of a larger conversation attempting to uncover a language for masculine grief and vulnerability.

ALEX: Daddy Issues is part of a larger conversation attempting to uncover a language for masculine grief and vulnerability. It uses humor, wit, and formal innovations to engage with those subjects, and recent studies have proven that people who purchase and read Daddy Issues live, on average, twenty-percent longer than people who don’t.

The post Alex McElroy’s Daddy Issues first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: What specifically about these two films made you decide to include them in this year’s QFest?

KRISTIAN SALINAS: Maurice is a landmark film, having achieved mainstream success in its time in spite and because of its honest and thoughtful depiction of a closeted romance between two men who belonged to a particular stratum of British society that maintained its status quo by enforcing very rigid and unyielding rules of behavior. Further, Maurice, as directed by James Ivory, is an exquisite adaptation of E.M. Forster’s novel, seamlessly transporting its audience to another place and time. For a generation perhaps more accustomed to such post-modern period pieces like Downtown Abbey, the lack of any nods to our modern thinking lends Maurice a profundity that is both intellectually and emotionally gratifying.

Bones of Contention is a troubling yet engrossing account of the treatment of gays and lesbians during Spain’s Franco regime. Perhaps most striking is how a so-called civilized, western society can quickly collapse and turn against its own citizens, a sharp and timely reminder that no society is above the circumstances that can lead to such collapse. That García Lorca was compelled to speak out against this dark turn in Spain, and essentially sacrifice his life to do so, speaks to the undeniable power of art, a testament behind the truth of the old saying, “the pen is mightier than the sword.” I would also like to point out that Bones of Contention should be seen as a companion piece to Agustí Villaronga’s notoriously disturbing In a Glass Cage, both celebrated and reviled for its unflinchingly depiction of a victim becoming the victimizer. On the surface, these films have little in common, but both speak towards our own troubling times, and my hope is that audiences will come away from both with a clearer sense of what is truly at stake if we remain on the path we are currently travelling on.

On the surface, these films have little in common, but both speak towards our own troubling times, and my hope is that audiences will come away from both with a clearer sense of what is truly at stake if we remain on the path we are currently travelling on.

MK: Forster published Maurice in 1913, and García Lorca’s career spanned the 20s and 30s. What is most striking to you about the relationship society had to homosexuality back then?

KS: E.M. Forster resisted publishing Maurice, and so it was only published after his death, in 1971. What a travesty when one considers the happy ending Forster allows his two male lovers to experience at the end. García Lorca is a celebrated writer in Spain, but little, or nothing, is mentioned of his sexuality, and the fact that his sexuality ultimately led to his death at the hands of the Franco regime.

In some ways, society’s attitude hasn’t really changed, and by that, I don’t necessarily mean to sound negative, but rather to point out that the fundamental anxiety almost every society expresses towards homosexuality is rooted in the act of sex as played out in the minds of those who strongly oppose homosexuals. For example, in order for the LGBTQ community to persuade the majority towards same-sex marriage, a new term, “marriage equality,” had to be coined in order to get the sex act out of people’s minds. It worked because it allowed non-homosexuals to better understand what all loving couples share in common, but it also sadly goes to show that society as a whole continues to express unnecessary hostility against sexuality.

MK: As a follow-up, Clive in Maurice struggles with the relationship he has with himself and his homosexual impulses. What do you find interesting about this specific depiction of this relationship?

KS: Clive is a pitiful figure, and it’s a tragic irony that Clive should be the one to inspire homosexual feelings within Maurice. Clive is emblematic of individuals who repress their true nature to such a degree that they become empty vessels, lacking any emotional use to those closest to them. That being said, Clive’s complete detachment from his true self ultimately enables Maurice to find true love, liberating himself from everything that led to his own repression.

MK: Bones of Contention is described as exploring “the theme of historical memory in Spain” as it relates to the repression of lesbians and gays. If this theme was explored in America, what might it say?

KS: I think it’s fair, and necessary, to say that such an exploration of American historical memory would also have to include our history of slavery and the genocide committed against Native Americans. Much like Spain has to do, we have to ask ourselves, as Americans, what is it we are seeking to preserve when we choose to deny our own troubling histories?

KS: Writing is a means by which an individual can express them-self. For the gay rights movement, as is the case with any movement, literature, if engaged with thoughtfully, can offer an opportunity to express what makes a cause unique, while also allowing others to discover and remind of the similarities and common ground we all share.

For the gay rights movement, as is the case with any movement, literature, if engaged with thoughtfully, can offer an opportunity to express what makes a cause unique, while also allowing others to discover and remind of the similarities and common ground we all share.

MK: Undoubtedly QFest is open to everyone, but is there anything that might be of specific interest to Houston’s literary community?

KS: Certainly! In addition to Maurice and Bones of Contention, I highly recommend Small Talk, an unforgettable documentary from Taiwan in which a young woman documents her relationship with her mother. Small Talk deservedly won the prestigious Teddy Award at this year’s Berlin Film Festival, and it is clear the audience and jury were equally moved by the film’s ability to express and reveal so much during its quietest moments. Small Talk will receive its Texas premiere at Asia Society Texas Center.

The post QFest Presents: Bones of Contention and Maurice first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: I’d imagine that some books make for better musicals, but, if I’m honest, I wouldn’t think of Carrie as being such a book. What about it made Michael Gore, Dean Pitchford, and the other creators of the original Broadway production want to turn it into a musical and what qualities of a book make for a good musical?

BENJAMIN LUSS: I do not know the reasons the creative team originally adapted Carrie into a musical, but the original 1988 production failed miserably. The 2012 revival (re-write) focuses on how humans want to be accepted and loved by their peers and families. This resonates with the audience as everyone has been picked on, ignored or dismissed by others in their life. This creates a dramatic theme that is the hallmark of great musical theatre.

MATTHEW: Can you speak a little about the process of transforming a novel into a play and who is involved?

BENJAMIN: There is no set way to adapt a novel into a play or musical, but the creative team must work as a cohesive whole in order for it to be successful. Usually the script will be adapted by the book writer from the original work. Then the lyricist and composer will decide where music can convey the emotional state of the characters more effectively than spoken dialogue. Lyrics and songs are created and the book writer then cleans up the remaining dialogue to create a first draft. At this point a producer is hopefully found and a reading or production is staged. After numerous re-writes and productions the show is hopefully picked up for a professional production and the show is only finalized after a number of previews.

MATTHEW: There are obviously things a musical can’t do that a movie or a book can, but the reverse is also true. What do you consider to be one or two of these unique features?

BENJAMIN: Inner monologue (as in a novel) can be explored through the lyrics in a musical. This allows the audience to hear what the character is thinking and feeling as opposed to just viewing the emotions or thoughts. Conversely, a movie can have extraordinary special effects, but a musical is limited in what it can portray on the stage.

MATTHEW: Carrie is a forcefully violent and scary movie—does this production try to recreate to some degree that experience for the audience? If so, how?

BENJAMIN: Through the use of the score and lighting effects we recreate the climax in an artistic way without too much horror and gore. If we have done our job, the audience will be experiencing the emotional climax and not worrying about the “Horror Movie” aspects of the scene.

MATTHEW: Do you find that those who have read the book have a distinctly different experience than those who haven’t?

BENJAMIN: Knowing the original source material when watching a musical is not necessary, but often enhances the experience. I always appreciate when I find direct lines of dialogue from the novel or movie incorporated into the songs or dialogue by the authors. There are many instances of this in Carrie even though the setting is present day as opposed to the novels setting.

The post A Book, a Movie, a Play—King’s Carrie first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

For me, my mother and I would watch Judy Garland and Bert Lahr anytime one of my numerable ear infections happened and I couldn’t sleep. For others the ’39 movie or the original book by L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, was often played or read at holiday gatherings, childhood events, or just ‘cause. With the dramatic growth in the children’s literature and YA markets over the past twenty years though, I’m curious as to what other books geared toward youths were popular before this contemporary explosion, and where Baum’s book fits in among them.

What I’m immediately reminded of is that there were no adolescents until 1904. More accurately, society didn’t more fully delineate an individual’s development until the American Psychological Association stepped in, meaning that before Baum’s 1900 book, writers didn’t pay much attention to non-adults because society wasn’t really doing so either. Still, we find a handful of popular, pre-20^th century titles geared toward children and early teens such as Aesop’s Fables (c. 600 BCE), Tales of Mother Goose (1729), and Through the Looking-Glass (1871). Certainly there are other titles that could fall under this heading of popular, pre-20^th century books for children or adolescents, but after looking over a number of lists related to such, it becomes clear that the definition for both children’s and young adult literature varies greatly. For example, books such as Arabian Nights (c. 700 CE), Gulliver’s Travels (1726), and A Tale of Two Cities (1859) are consistently cited on these indexes, but a convincing argument could be made that these books are too heavy with adult themes to be considered geared towards youth, that, in short, they didn’t have the same audience in mind as did Mother Goose, Alice in Wonderland, and Oz. This to say that while Baum’s Oz had its predecessors, there aren’t as many as one might originally think.

What’s interesting is the influence The Wonderful Wizard of Oz had on the genre, since after an initial wave of praise, it didn’t have as much impact as one might expect. More specifically, The Times original review of the book was good and the book was a bestseller for its first two years, but because The Wonderful Wizard of Oz was one in a series of fourteen, it started to fall out of favor with critics who cited the lengthy series as diminishing the quality of the original. In fact, Baum himself might agree with this assessment as after this first book he didn’t want to write anymore Oz books, but because of popular demand (particularly by children who wrote him letters) and money issues, he reluctantly turned it into a series. It wasn’t until after his death in 1919 and the film’s ’39 debut in all its Technicolor glory, that interest in the original book returned.

And, obviously, this is just a cursory peek into the history of this beloved book and its related genres, but I guess what’s most surprising is just how early this book appears in the genealogy of children’s and YA literature, and that there were decades when the book fell into disfavor. Regardless, it’s tough to imagine this book and movie not continuing to be a popular choice in homes with children, despite there being more new YA titles and authors than munchkins in Oz.

The post Our Wizard of Oz first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

However, there’s something about her that other historically-renowned authors—and even other timeless artists, politicians, and scientists—don’t have, and that’s namely the continued ability to enamor the public. She simply has a quality that gets at us, which makes us want to celebrate her consistently and widely.  For instance, here are but a few examples of the unique space we confer to her. 

• In literature, and as early as the 1880s, critics created a term to describe the deity-like praise she began to get around that time, Austenolatry, which folks still use and write about to this day (www.nybooks.com)

• In banking, we’ve made her the new face of the £10 note (beginning in September 2017)

• In society, folks created one of the first fan-based sub-cultures around her, the Janeites, which is still alive and well today, and said to have warring factions equivalent to political parties

• In cinema, there have been at least seventy-five movies or TV shows made from her six novels, including the 2016 US/UK mash-up Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, the 2010 Indian romance Kandukondain Kandukondain, the 1961 Dutch mini-series “Vier Dochters Bennet, De,” and the 1957 Italian mini-series “Orgoglio e Pregiudizio”

It’s with all this in mind that I asked Benjamin Rybeck of Brazos and Sheryl Craig of The Jane Austen Society of North America what they think as to why Ms. Austen continues to be so cherished. Here’s what they said.

Benjamin Rybeck:  Simply put, I think Austen’s continued appeal comes from the relatable nature of her characters. In them, a modern audience sees the same pettiness, the same jealousy, the same love we feel today, which helps connect us to the past. Of course, Austen’s characters felt all they did while also wearing glamorous costumes, which is certainly another part of the appeal!

Sheryl Craig:  I think her novels endure because she deals with the drama of everyday life. There are no murders in Austen’s novels, or blood-thirsty monsters, but we have all cringed because of snobbery, and we have all been crossed in love, and been overlooked, and misunderstood. Her characters are heroic not because they save the planet but because they are kind, and loyal, and honest. Her villains are evil because they are selfish. Austen writes about the real world, our world, and everyone can relate to that. They could in 1817, and we can in 2017. And she makes us laugh, and smile, and snicker, and chortle with her. Her sense of humor makes her immortal.

So whether it’s her humor, relatability, pageantry, or something completely else, one thing is clear: We have an endless love for Jane.

The post Our Endless Love for Jane first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

What is it about an age-old story that makes people want to experience it again and again? Certainly variation via content, form, or other means can help, but how many times can a story play this quasi three-card Monte before people’s interests are sucked toward the table up the block?

The answer to this could surely focus on the machinations of narrative or even the socio-biology of humans, or, much more simply, the evident fact that folks love the salacious (like really love the salacious), but one thing is for certain: the phenomenon of a narrative never losing its color despite repeated washings is one that continues to happen. For instance, on May 31^st the River Oaks Theatre is having a special film presentation of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, a story that has its origins in the 12^th century, and, more to the point, has a history of being told and retold that is more varied and alive than arguably any other narrative.

For example, many people know that both the coupledom’s of Lancelot and Guinevere and Romeo and Juliet have traceable genealogies to Béroul’s poem, but it doesn’t take much more than a few keystrokes to find that this classic story of conflicted love has been adapted, reinvented, and collaborated upon by seemingly everyone who has previously experienced it. Within the field of literature alone there are French, Spanish, Czech, Welsh, and Belarusian versions, to name but a small few, that have been tinkered and toyed with by their respective cultures for close to a millennia. And once one gets outside the field of literature, there are no shortages of plays, films, and operas that center their artistic drives on this well-worn material. Are all of these interpretations and iterations masterpieces? Of course not. But some are, and Wagner’s 19^th century opera is universally considered as one.

So what does Wagner do that is so original? That, unfortunately, is kind of the point of this post, to let others know that this classic story is being presented yet again—this time via the recent production of respected conductor Daniele Gatti and director Pierre Audi—so that, if one so chooses, he or she can determine for themselves what it is exactly that makes this edition of this weathered story so fresh. After all, who hasn’t seen a version or two of this story to make a comparison?

ALL’OPERA: TRISTAN AND ISOLDE (NR) 4 hrs, 30 mins

RELEASE: 05/31/2017

www.landmarktheatres.com/houston

The post An Old Story Made New: Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: What inspired you to take the literary figure of Don Quixote and turn his experiences into an orchestrated musical production?

MATTHEW DIRST: Well, to start with there is a lot of great music surrounding this particular subject, from Henry Purcell’s Incidental Music to Don Quixote to Joseph Bodin de Boismortier’s Ballet on Don Quichotte to name but a few. However, in addition to this there has also recently been an important anniversary as this year coincides with the 400th anniversary of the death of Miguel de Cervantes, author of Don Quixote.

MK: What is the creative process for a project like this? How do you pick which music, pieces, etc. you want to incorporate?

MD: First, I look at and listen to a lot of potential music. I then decide which pieces, including just excerpts from larger works—as is the case with Ballet on Don Quichotte—will work best for us, and then finally I figure out both the personnel and a sensible program order and groupings.

MK: In your experience, what do you think were some of the challenges these composers and musicians had in turning a literary text into a musical while attempting to stay authentic to the written word?

MD: If you’re wondering how to turn a literary text into a piece of music, you would do better to ask a composer! If, however, your question revolves more around how a musical program gets put together, it is a bit like cooking in a well-stocked kitchen. First comes hunger, then an initial idea about what to cook, then specific decisions about ingredients and methods. Like all great meals, a great musical program requires both inspiration and skill, a curatorial touch that allows the various “ingredients” to speak for themselves but in a savory and memorable combination.

MK: Will the performance follow a narrative that is familiar to those who know Don Quixote or are the individual pieces organized in a different way?

MD: It won’t follow a specific narrative, but rather it will be constructed through engaging general themes found in Don Quixote, such as endless travel, yearning, foolishness, and so on.

MK: What would you say to someone who is considering attending the event but isn’t quite sure what to expect?

MD: I would tell them that they will get the chance to enjoy beautiful and seldom heard music that was created by a range of 17th and 18th century composers, which include but aren’t limited to solo songs by Henry Purcell from his Incidental Music to Don Quixote collaboration to selections from George Phillip Telemann’s orchestral suite, which was inspired by the Don’s exploits.

Don Quixote’s Excellent Adventures
Sunday, May 21, 2017 at 6:00 pm
Zilkha Hall, Hobby Center for the Performing Arts
www.arslyricahouston.org

The post Ars Lyrica Houston’s Don Quixote’s Excellent Adventures first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.

Already a thought provoking story, what’s more is that this play has a unique production in that it’s being performed not only with hand-crafted masks to help create the animals, but also as a musical. I was able to do a quick Q&A with Bill Brown, the play’s director, and Robert Shimko, the Director of the School of Theatre and Dance, about the project and the process of bringing the story to the stage. Here’s what they had to say.

MATTHEW KRAJNIAK: Rob, you have several guest artists working on this project. Who are they?

ROBERT SHIMKO: Well, Bill Brown is a professional director from Chicago with a long and impressive resume. We were able to bring him down to Houston thanks to a generous Innovation Grant for the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Center for the Arts. That grant is also paying for two other guest artists: music director Jack Beetle and mask maker Phil Nichols Jr.

MK: How did UH’s School of Theatre and Dance come to choose Animal Farm as a production?

RS: I got the idea for adding Animal Farm to our season about two years ago. Dr. David Rainbow of the UH Honors College approached me to discuss a project he had in mind called “Revolutionary Dreams,” a cross-disciplinary set of loosely interconnected arts and humanities events that reflected on the hundred-year anniversary of the Russian Revolution. Around that same time, I happened to read Sir Peter Hall’s adaptation of Animal Farm because it related to one of my Master’s students’ thesis project. Hall actually taught for a few years in the UH School of Theatre & Dance, and his picture hangs alongside folks like Edward Albee on our faculty wall of fame. In addition, Hall also created this musical version of Animal Farm in the 1980s with some collaborators. So given the timeliness of the centenary of the Revolution, the chance to pay tribute to Peter Hall, and the fact that our program has not put on a musical for a few years, it seemed like the right project at the right time.

MK: And, Bill, what attracted you to this project?

BILL BROWN: Well, I make my living as a professional director, but every year or so a university contacts me regarding a project that wouldn’t have come my way in the professional theatre—such as when Rob Shimko contacted me about Animal Farm. And at first, I wasn’t sure if this was really for me, but every time I say that, I always take the job because I know it will be just the kind of challenge I need and that I’ll always end up enjoying the hell out of it. That’s exactly what happened here.

MK: What challenges did/does this production present to you?

BB: Challenges? Oh, dear! You begin by deciding how much “animal” you want to invest in. The first design meetings last fall coincided with the callbacks, and we explored down-on-all-fours imitations of animals and also a hybrid. We went with the hybrid, since the animals in the story are, after all, allegorical. In terms of design, we had the same challenge: How much animal? We knew the project could easily slip into the musical Cats. Not to mention other challenges like how the play has multiple settings that should happen seamlessly, and how to light the damn thing, and did I mention that it’s a musical? That’s a boatload of challenges. Well as it turns out, there is both a ton of musical talent and well-trained young actors here at this school, and under the able guidance of Jack Beetle, we’re doing just dandy. I’m quite proud of everyone.

MK: Can you briefly talk about the masks Phil Nichols Jr. created?

BB: Phil is terrific and provided invaluable help from the beginning. We are not doing full masks. We can’t lose that much “human.” There are snouts, and beaks and manes and horns.

MK: Finally, were there any surprises during the development of this project you care to share?

BB: The most wonderful surprise is just how human these animals really are. The story is, of course, timeless. There will always be revolutions, fueled by oppression and idealism. And just as likely, those revolutions will be corrupted. But the play is more than a political allegory. These animals know pain, fear, joy, confusion, friendship, mistrust. They work heroically to become a community. It is their hope, their continual optimism in the face of failure that is the real secret of the play.

Animal Farm
From the novel by George Orwell. Adapted by Sir Peter Hall. Lyrics by Adrian Mitchell.
Music by Richard Peaslee
Directed by William Brown
Wortham Theatre, UH main campus
April 7th, 8th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th at 8pm and 9th at 2pm
For more information click here

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For the politically and socially driven, Tim’s book deals with some of the realities of immigration, both for the immigrants and host country. Sound familiar to any current events? The book centers on the worst plane crash in California’s history—a crash that claimed the lives of twenty-eight Mexican deportees and four Americans (and was the focus of Woody Guthrie poem turned song)—and explores why these men and women came into the states, what they had to go through because of the United State’s immigration policies, and how they shared much in common with those who were already citizens here. Lines are blurred, definitions are questioned, and identities are examined.  

For those of you who love a good process story or are nuts about the nuts and bolts of a research narrative, this book gives you a wonderful smattering of both. What started out as a simple, but noble, humanitarian act by Tim, turned into seven years of him travelling back and forth across one country and down and back to another, in order to interview people, dig up documents, talk to officials, and visit event sites in search of compiling a series of comprehensive stories. A big part of Tim’s work is the meta-narrative—the story about the story—and All They Will Call You has plenty of that.

The book also explores form, which should appeal to all you folks who like to talk critical and narrative theory. In fact, right from the get-go, Tim throws down the theory gauntlet by noting how facts are less essential to certain kinds of narratives than memory and the benefits of oral storytelling. He goes on to explain that the book’s foundation couldn’t be set in facts because the crash was so poorly documented, but that facts couldn’t have captured what he was really going for anyway—that in effect the oral stories he was told were far more accurate than the facts.

And last but not least, the book is a good ol’ fashioned mystery narrative. Who were these people? What were they really doing? What happened to the plane? How did all of Tim’s efforts end? Bit by bit the reader learns parts of the answers to these questions, but like any good mystery novel, you’re never really sure how the storylines are all going to finish out.

For more information on Tim’s Gulf Coast reading click here.

The post All They Will Call You: A Little Something for Everyone first appeared on An Open Book - The Inprint Blog.