Babylon Salon: an intimate production

This will be a tough act to follow. Hmm. Game face, Evan.

It was a clear black night, a clear white moon …
But in the dungeon, the bottom floor of Cantina where candles line the walls and friends speak, hosts toast, accomplishments shimmer … all is warm, the shadows are comfortable and agreed upon, the volume is just right.

Enter a micro-universe. This one is full of supportive friends, self-contained. It is bare but full of style. The style comes with the folk.

The occasion this past Saturday, December 5 was the winter reading for Babylon Salon, San Francisco’s Rollicking Reading and Performance Series. It was a benchmark, too. Babylon just celebrated its tenth edition.

They deserve your applause. This was my first time as part of the Salon, although I did meet co-founder and -host Tim Crandle recently at East Bay on the Brain. There he performed a short piece of his own fiction, impressive both for content and performance [click to watch].

I didn’t know what to expect. A whole evening of this? I was excited.

I wasn’t disappointed, but Babylon Salon had something else prepared. Something almost diametrically opposite and, in fact, contrary to their self-proclaimed tagline. Only one of the evening’s five readers could be described as jovial or over-the-top in any way. What they did present was a string of professional writers polished and ready to read. Each contained a special kind of glow. I was not drinking (until intermission, and most of my sole drink remained at the evening’s close), but I was warm and fuzzy like maybe I had been.

The room was packed but there was plenty of room, if you know what I mean. I felt so at home I began to reconsider the basic tenets of my own reading series, which will begin a week from today, on Monday, December 14 @ 6 PM – also @ Cantina. Despite the fact that Babylon Salon has five hosts (in addition to Tim Crandle there's Timothy B. Rein, Maury Zeff, Laurie Doyle, and Lindsay Tam Holland), and my reading series has two who (will) strive to remain behind the scenes, Babylon really impressed me.

My idea is to maintain focus on pre-written texts – in our case, fiction and poetry will dominate – rather than have the host(s) introduce the writers, give quirky biographical asides, and, essentially, distract the audience with information that has nothing to do with the readings. I personally do not care where you’ve been published; I don’t want to know who likes your poetry or what they said about it. It’s just some punk (maybe) admirer like me writing their thoughts down. I done come for the poetry, yawl.

It doesn’t hurt when you have Carol Edgarian, editor of Narrative Magazine, fulfilling the role of guest literary journal rep. She was so at ease and just downright likable I wanted to ask her something impossibly naïve like “What is the secret to inner peace?” It turns out I could have asked that same question of the reader Carol flew from New York to introduce, Katayoon Zandvakili, who, in addition to being a poet, playwright, painter (and I’m sure I’m missing things I can’t entertain), is a consulting editor for Narrative. And Babylon co-host Mr. Rien, who introduced Carol, is Assistant Editor for Narrative. It was like, OMG, if you don’t know about Narrative you better hop on and bookmark. Carol’s introduction was succinct and well-aimed. One of her sentences was so charming I want to repeat it here, but as I’ve included the video I’ll make you watch it.

So, yes, the reason I began to reconsider my own strategies! The warmth of these people (have I said that? Warmth doesn’t get old). What is literary? Humanity, people. The stories I heard Saturday made me sad but the readers delivered them with such poise and pride I could not help but smile behind the camera. It was like going to watch a group of friends perform, but I didn’t know anyone in the room except for Tim, who I’d only met that once.

Sonja Velez started off the readings with a recent non-fiction segment. As she settled in to the story a composed vibrancy became evident and finished the reading for her. “It was after 5 and I just want to go home. Last night I was at the office until 11, 9 the night before. I got up early this morning to get up for ‘the big meeting,’ and now I am so frigging tired I could cry.” Her story is told so professionally I had to remind myself it was non-fiction. She has learned to express her empathy clearly and it has given her distance from it and she is now strong and confident and, in time, her feelings will become even more pronounced. “Funny, I thought I was the one who is secure, because I know how to play this game. I wonder, Walter, what it will be like on the outside.” Sigh.

Now watch Carol!

As Katayoon provided the background for her story it was evident how well she knows it – where she came from, what it means. Identity and presence emanate, and not just from her voice. Trying to describe her reading I came up with the following phrases (this is a new kind of review): “tranquil and well-pronounced thrills,” “tranquil mastery,” and “near whisper, fully charged and calm.” None is sufficient. I just got the impression that anything she said was going to be beautiful. And light-hearted, somehow, despite all logic: this reading was from her forthcoming non-fiction novel In the Lap of the Gods: My Eight-&-A-Half-Month Marriage to an Impostor.

To finish off the first set, Josh Bazell read a series of emails that, if true – they must be true – Josh was the rollicking performance. I’ll almost keep it at that. He relayed an hysterical insight into the publishing industry through several exchanges with his editor, and publishers, not all of whom saw eye to eye. Go figure. Search and replace might have been appropriate advice, but he didn’t think so. Neither did his editor, actually. Josh has asked me not to post the video for the sake of your innocence and, of course, to maintain the privacy of all concerned parties. This is why you need to actually go to these things, dear reader. Check out his book Beat the Reaper - I was very impressed by Josh's demeanor; he stood aloof even while letting the group in on some secrets. Like a magician.

After the break Zach Wyner, newly published author and elementary school teacher from LA about to finish his MFA in the Creative Writing program at the University of SF, told a tale about a lonely journey on Muni 21. I instantly (sorry) invoked him to submit something to Instant City. It was that good. Some may say better, and I’m not disparaging Mr. Wyner. Those sayers just haven’t seen enough of IC yet. Zach’s story was relentless and eventful, despite the character's not actually moving. Very in-the-city. The dialogue is impeccable. Just a very authentic tale.

Ellen Sussman, author of Bad Girls: 26 Writers Misbehave and, recently, Dirty Words: A Literary Encyclopedia of Sex, finished the evening with a powerful and well-paced exerpt from her forthcoming novel French Lessons. It was like a bunch of jabs to the gut from a pretty smile. It felt good, you know, but maybe it shouldn’t have. We only got a glimpse into one of the three character studies – and I sense they are this, studies – but for the little we did hear, I want to know more about the character. As for the plot – let it happen. Just let madame keep talking! “Maybe her new skin is a turquoise fuck-me shoe.” Thank you, Ellen, for this sentence.

Ah, alas, we have come to the end of our time together. And just imagine what this would be like in a charming setting, with your friends (or with new ones), with a drink (I know you’re not drinking), as part of a salon.