from "Ladies' Voices", by Gertrude Stein

When did reading become such a highbrow activity? I ask myself this question after reading yet another one of those ever-increasing bashes of audio books. The critic, though providing a politically correct nod to the "visually impaired" (of which I am one), seemed intent on vilifying these audio books as suppressing the individuality of the reader's "inner voice" and providing yet another inadequate medium for replacing the true nature of reading, which is the undiluted and undistracted--if proprietary and perhaps mono manically possessive-- interpersonal relationship between the book and the reader. Well, I've never been the jealous type. My theory of books and reading has always been there exist between the author, the work, and the audience, something of a menage a trois.

I agree edited versions of books can be annoying, though there are some writers who manage to survive the editing process perhaps somewhat improved, and that sometimes other people's interpretations of a reading can be unsettling, but may I make a case for one of the bygone pleasures of yesteryear, Reading Aloud.

Perhaps the most amusing reason the critics give for their repugnance for this form is their (mistaken) perception that it represents some modern perversion. All the best perversions, of course, have withstood the test of time. Reading aloud is one of the oldest of these.( There are some older, but the two were soon integrated with the invention of sex manuals.) In an age of multiplex movie theaters, the internet, television, radio, newspapers, and bookstores offering a mile-long selection of magazine racks, it is perhaps difficult to comprehend what a rare and precious treasure a book was. Even after the invention of the printing press, only the most wealthy aristocrats or the most powerful clergy had access to books on a large scale. Most people could not read at all. Those that could read, read Aloud. These books, despite what history would have one beliebe, we're not always "mind-improving". There is an old tradition of sex manuals, amd an almost as old tradition of romances. Cleopatra wrote a book on her beauty secrets. Ovid's "Art Of Love" is a how-to seduction manual. Can you imagine a group of men gathered around Ovid in the manner modern men gather around the latest issue of "PLAYBOY"? The gatherings I imagine, though, are those of women.

Books and women. I imagine them reading in the harems, since many of the books were specifically written with these women in mind. I imagine them in the very proper, or perhaps not so proper in private, drawing rooms. I imagine them in the cabins of the Wild West, where a year-old newspaper or a battered penny dreadful was received with the joy of a long- missed friend. There were public readings of political speeches, poetry, essays, and reminisces of travels. People such as Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, and Ralph Waldo Emerson made money, not on their books, but on their public speaking.

When did we, as a society, lose the ability to appreciate the sound of the human voice?

Perhaps some of this phobia can be explained by the constant barrage of sound we suffer from. We are so used to hearing professional voices, newscasters, radio dj's, actresses and actors, snake oil salesmen trying to sell bags of wet shit through infomercials... We never listen to our own voices. Yet, at the same time, perhaps the number one fear is the possibility one might one day have to give a public speech, a presentation, an interview.

I've always loved reading aloud. My renditions of Stephen King's stories made me a very popular babysitter during my teenage years. Later, I discovered the seductive appeal of love poetry read aloud onto tape and sent to one's love interest was not to be underestimated. Still, when I first began making tapes of letters or stories, after going blind, I was extremely nervous about putting my voice on tape. It reminded me of doing those grammar school "oral reports". The difference, I soon realized, is that it should not be painful to express one's enthusiasm. To allow someone else to hear a story or poem the way you hear it. It does not need to be a professional digitalized stereo sound, it only needs one thing your own voice.

After years of listening to and producing audio tapes, I feel confident in calling myself an expert on the human voice reading aloud.

Here are some tips.

• 1. Choose your reading material for no other reason than it is something you love and wish to share. There are a few things which might not translate well to the spoken word, such as Plato, or Toqueville's "Democracy in America", but then again, perhaps they only need the right reader. All poetry was made to be read aloud, as ere all plays, romances and adventures. The witty essays of Dorothy Parker or James Thurber are wonderful if the reader can stop laughing, and to give voice to letters (Heloise and Abelard) and journals (Anais Nin or Picasso) gain the poignancy of a caged bird set free. Try the sheer feminine appeal of Colette or Simone de Bouvier, written, I like to think, especially in memory of those gatherings of women.
• 2. Create an ambiance.
  Read "Walden" outside, read Fodor guide books while traveling, read Joyce Carol Oates by candlelight.
• 3. Don't just sit there. Anyone of Mediterranean descent can tell you, the animation of the body adds animation to the voice. Use gestures, walk around, or my favorite, stand on the furniture. This also ensures that people won't keep wandering in and through the room.
• 4. Breathe.
  This is the only guide I will give to grammar: Most of it indicates when you should breathe. Commas indicate a brief beat, parentheses a pause to indicate a new thought, or the resuming of an interrupted thought, and periods are a full stop. Breathe.
• 5. Slow down.
  This is a feast, a seduction. Savor. Allow the audience a moment to consider, contemplate, experience a sensation of pleasure or a thrill of fear.
• 6. Listen to other readers.
  

One of the best ways to catch an enthusiasm for performing and reading aloud, is to listen to others. I recommend the performance poets, especially Allen Ginsberg, who could transform the idea of poetry into the idea of being able to talk about anything. National Public Radio also has a series of stories being read aloud, and many local public radio stations have shows involving storytelling, or interviews, round tables. Just listen.