Michael Ondaatje Reading

Michael Ondaatje’s reading held much importance for many people, but for me, held a position very low on the rankings in the standings of what is important to me. The event was run poorly, considering it didn’t start till at least 15 minutes after the announced start time. So while I twiddle my fingers and tired my thumb out from scrolling through endless feeds, finally a man appears onto the stage. This man is not the old timer pictured on the back of the books that greet your entrance to the reading, but instead a middle aged man filled with subtle flamboyancy that becomes more prominent with every word he speaks. He attempts to introduce Michael Ondaatje. His essay seems cohesively written and his meter is nothing but smooth. But the context is his downfall. He uses a metaphor about writing that he must’ve thought to hold beautiful elegance, but the crowd simply just became confused when he used “word” too many times. Near the climax of this opening, he made his first attempt at trying to be funny. His overdeveloped joke left the audience laugh less, and he noticed that when he looked up for clarification. Overall, this sad little man showed that he has a passion for good writing and still was able to shine light on the man of the hour, but his words held less importance when he attempted to be the great writer that he just isn’t. Either way the speech ended with claps, some for pity, and most just thanking him for finally finishing.

            Near after, Michael Ondaatje took stage. His presence was rather dull, but highly sophisticated and easy to listen to. The old man with coke-white hair read three passages from his newest work. He described this novel to be some sort of autobiographical fiction about his childhood life in Sri Lanka. Each of the excerpts were very well written. The description given to me prior to hearing his works was that he blends poetry and fiction beautifully. Because of this predisposition, I was listening for it to be true. I do agree with the statement about his ability to blend the two, but I feel that sometimes that blend could add unnecessary description for the sake of trying to sound more descriptive than the next guy. His ability to add humor into his passages was exquisite at times, but failed to catch chuckles with the audience. Ultimately, the reading left many of the people near me either struggling to stay up, or stuck in the endless loop of social media. Though I’m sure many of the listeners up front were captivated by his word use, this reading did not do a great job of marketing why he is unlike the next old guy who has enough time on his hands to write a book.

The most I got out of the reading was the number I exchanged with a beautiful girl who just happened to sit next to me. So thank you Michael Ondaatje, your writing was quite a bore but it made some girl horny enough to go on a date with me this week. Maybe I’ll use some of your lines.