Sweeping its way through various cities in the deep south, the event was called “The Unchained Tour.” I went to see the performance at the showroom in Spartanburg, SC because my fantasy writing hero Neil Gaiman was speaking there.
For any of you who are unaware of Neil Gaiman, he is an icon among fantasy novelists – a British writer whose fame has reached rock star heights. He is probably best known for his graphic novel Sandman series, especially his character “Death.” In his stories, Gaiman probes the dark side of myths, fairy tales, and childhood, delving into the psychology of dreams.
The story-telling event was held in a small, unpretentious show room at a place called the Hub-bub, and it was strange to see Neil Gaiman sitting so close to me, just another performer in a troupe of six. The performers described themselves as “raconteurs.”
Although I knew what the word meant, I had never given much thought to the art of speaking stories, and its advantages over writing, in a text heavy world saturated with digital information.
I actually love digital media – and appreciate the benefits of technology. I carry my i-phone with me everywhere I go, and use it to take notes on interesting people and settings. I am also pathologically attached to my Kindle.
However, the theme of the “Unchained Tour” was getting away from all the distracting digital clutter and noise to let people interact in a way that was more natural and honest. The word “unchained” referred to how everyone is “chained” to their electronic devices – cell phones and computers – which have become a substitute for real human interaction.
There was a general preference among the speakers and audience for print media and standard books. The event was patronized by independent bookstores, which Neil Gaiman is heavily involved in promoting.
While I recognize that standard books have a nostalgic and tactile charm, and would not like to see them go away, I love the e-readers such as the Kindle too.
There was a short story I read as a kid, written by Isaac Asimov. It was called “The Fun They Had.” It was set in the far future, where all of the teachers were robots. Everyone read everything on electronic screens and few people had seen a real book.
Two kids discover a standard print book, and the event becomes an exciting educational adventure into the distant past. When they learn that everyone used to read this kind of book, they fantasize about all of the “fun” the readers of the past must have had.
While I love print books, a part of me also loves the idea of crossing into the science fiction vision of that story from my childhood.
Asimov prophetically imagined a world in which material books are replaced with text on an electronic screen, but a new form of book like the Kindle – thin, lightweight, portable, and able to mimic the appearance of paper pages – was not present in this vision of the future.
Still, I am happy with what I have. A Kindle is not as romantic and visionary as a robot, but it seems more practical and convenient. However, when the performers began, I could see the point of the tour and started to appreciate the word, “raconteur.” Each speaker told a true, personal story centered on the theme of love.
I love to read – but seeing the art of storytelling in practice made me uncomfortably aware of what is lost when a story is detached from the people who write it. Glances, gestures, body language, tone of voice, and unusual accents all make theatrical story-telling a powerful physical act.
It is rare to see people on-stage speaking for the sole purpose of telling a story. There is a warmth to that kind of presentation that is lacking in Hollywood methods of story-telling, which seem to be all about car chases, gun fights, and pyrotechnics.
Neil Gaiman was the last to speak. He told a simple story about adopting a rejected dog and how he almost lost a girl he loved. His performance was compelling, but all of the speakers did an outstanding job, particularly Edgar Oliver, who has the strangest accent I have ever heard – reminding me of a theatrical undertaker who waves guests through a haunted mansion. The story he told, about losing a book bag full of student records, was a roller-coaster of exaggerated inflections.
At first, the audience seemed unsure how to react to him – was this his real accent, or was he faking it? However, by the end of the performance, everyone, including me, was thoroughly charmed. Although I still love my computer and my Kindle, seeing all the different styles of delivery did make me long for more warmth and simplicity in communication that the internet does not often deliver.
There are all kinds of ways to tell a story, but the simplest way can often be the most powerful. Special effects may dazzle and force attention, but a remarkable story really only needs a few ingredients: a person, a voice, and something to say.
