The horror, the horror…

In which I talk to some other writers about strange encounters with readers. Here’s a bit from Michelle Berry:

One night I was reading at the reference library in Toronto and, not really thinking, picked a passage about the embalming. As I was merrily reading along I glanced out into the audience and there, directly in front of me, were two middle-aged women huddled close together. They were both crying. The rest of the audience were laughing. But these women were crying.

I was reading about liver cancer and about a mortician using eye caps, and brushing makeup on the dead woman’s neck and whistling a merry tune, and it was a scene that was touching but also a bit odd and confusing — because it was also kind of funny. I faltered, of course, and my tone suddenly suggested that I didn’t really think what I was reading was humourous, so the rest of the audience kind of went blank.

About Peter Darbyshire (Roman)

Nothing to see here. Move along.

Posted on February 24, 2014, in The Writing Life. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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