A Group Of Writers Walk Into A Bar, Only It's Not A Bar, It's A Ballroom
From the excitement and giddy laughter heard through out the ballroom, it would be all too easy to assume that this event is a rarity within the literary community, but in fact, Red Hen has been putting on annual fundraising luncheons to bring L.A.’s literary community together since the press’s inception in 1994.
“We do a gala like this every year, but never like this,” says Red Hen publisher, Mark Cull, gesturing toward the hundreds of champagne flutes that fill the room and the miniature bookstore that Red Hen Press assembled earlier that morning.
“We like to think that the work we publish has a distinctly Los Angeles perspective and aesthetic to it,” says Cull. “Los Angeles is on its way to becoming a western center for literature. It’s a place of reinvention, and Red Hen tells stories that are reinvented—novels told in verse, poets writing in verse, and writers working with illustration.”
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“L.A. didn’t really have much of a literary scene when I moved here [from New York],” adds managing editor, Kate Gale. “This was before there was Antioch or Riverside or any other MFA programs out here.”
“What’s great is that L.A.’s really become an ecosystem of literature,” says Gale. “It really began to take off around 2000, but even now we’re still the only press operating on this kind of scale.”
Sharing the stage with beloved writers like the prolific Sharron Olds and innagural poet, Richard Blanco, were two young writers chosen to their own poems on behalf of Red Hen Press’s Writing in the Schools program.
“The simple thing to say would be that we are hoping to cultivate the next generation of writers, but of course, as writers ourselves, we know that storytelling is more than that,” says Gale. “It’s a tool of liberation.”
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While jokes may be necessary to diffuse the pressure of reading in a room full of many of Los Angeles’s most distinguished poets and authors, one of the most beautiful aspects of morning is the profound air of mutual admiration. One must truly savor every moment when you have three generations of writers gathered before you, laughing in their suits and hoodies and cardigan sets.
“Is there a better way to spend a Sunday than being fed and read to?” asks poet Brendan Constantine, the Master of Ceremonies for the day. He’s answered with silence and smiles. For people whose livelihood forces them to bleed out onto the page, and then hope for someone else to care, there is nothing better than this.
Contact Deputy Editor Sara Newman here and follow her on Twitter here.