Kitchen Table Readings
“It is so hard to get into writer’s festivals these days,” my publicist tells me. “If you aren’t famous or from down the street, forget it.” This year I discovered the answer to “down the street.” Invite the street!
One day, just as my last book was coming out, I remembered kitchen parties in the Maritimes. In Ireland. Even in Toronto. Sessions, where people show up with musical instruments, jam and follow the flow. I’d played and sang in them occasionally and now, faced with this question of spreading the word about my book, I thought – Aha! I’ll do my version of a session – kitchen table readings! The message I posted on social media went something like this: “Anyone who wants to invite friends and neighbours over, I’ll come. If I can drive there, I’ll come. If you are an old friend I need to see and I can manage a train or plane, hell, I’ll come!” The response was instant and huge. I’ve now done a bunch, and here’s what I’ve discovered.
People love to get together in person. Who knew. Well, most of us. Maybe it’s post-covid, maybe it’s the overwhelm of life on screens, maybe it’s something a theatre person like me should know is ancient and built in our bones. The delight of the ninety-year-old who brings her thirty-year-old granddaughter because she’s in town visiting. The trust and welcome possible when people gather tentatively, enthusiastically, personally, in a group that is curated but loose. Come, don’t come. It’s a one-time thing, it’s low risk, a bit of an adventure, there is a thrill in trying something new and if you don’t like it, well, it’s ninety minutes and you get drinks and treats. My favourite ‘regrets’ note said, “Ruth, I am so sorry to miss the reading and being in your home!”
People love to be read to. In that way, we are still children. Almost half of the people who show up (usually 8–15) have never been to a reading before. This is now my favourite way to do readings. The host is nervous and spreads the table with beautiful food. Generous, kind, welcome, these words come to mind. People really listen. The writer and the guests are invited into someone’s home. This is a big deal. And not for a meeting about neighbourhood injustice or community bylaws but for fun! You know the host, but there might be strangers! And you don’t even have to talk! It’s great for introverts.
I encourage other writers to try this. Here are a few pointers. Leave time for good discussion, because it will happen. Don’t focus on question and answer, let people talk to each other. Ask them questions. When I read from A Necessary Distance, I also played a segment from an old CBC Stages radio play. We spoke about a lot of things, but the passion for Canada was through the roof. People connect what they hear to their lives. In the intimacy of someone’s home, a lot can be said. It’s not like at a public venue. It’s private. And bring books – they’ll sell.
I spent years of my life in popular theatre and education. I know that change happens person by person and community movements grow encounter by encounter. It’s all about having tea, listening, paying attention, showing up. It has been an absolute honour to be invited into people’s living rooms and kitchens and I am grateful for the effort and personal investment (and cooking!) from each host.
P.S. Early on, a host said, “Don’t call it ‘kitchen table’ or they will think they have to sit facing each other.” She called it a “Living Room Reading.” Call it what you want, but try it!
P.P.S. My Zen teacher wrote a book called Paradise in Plain Sight. She pointed out that the word paradise originally meant “an enclosed area.” Paradise, she says, is a back yard.
Julie Salverson is a nonfiction writer, playwright, editor, scholar and theatre animator. She is a fourth-generation Icelandic Canadian writer: her father George wrote early CBC radio and television drama and her grandmother Laura won two Governor General Awards (1937,1939). Julie's theatre, opera, books and essays embrace the relationship of imagination and foolish witness to risky stories and trauma. She works on atomic culture, community-engaged theatre and the place of the foolish witness in social, political and inter-personal generative relationships. Salverson offers resiliency and peer-support workshops to communities dealing with trauma and has many years of experience teaching and running workshops. Recent publications include the book When Words Sing: Seven Canadian Libretti (Playwrights Canada Press, 2021) and Lines of Flight: An Atomic Memoir (Wolsak & Wynn, 2016).