Constant repetition carries conviction.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter. My sense of relief was short-lived though as the next reader read nothing but poetry.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter. My sense of relief was short-lived though as the next reader read nothing but poetry. It was repetitive, mind-numbing, eyes-glazing-over-due-to-sheer-boredom poetry.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter. My sense of relief was short-lived though as the next reader read nothing but poetry. It was repetitive, mind-numbing, eyes-glazing-over-due-to-sheer-boredom poetry. His poetry brought to mind an elementary school game that I do not so fondly remember.

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter. My sense of relief was short-lived though as the next reader read nothing but poetry. It was repetitive, mind-numbing, eyes-glazing-over-due-to-sheer-boredom poetry. His poetry brought to mind an elementary school game that I do not so fondly remember. The “I went on vacation and in my suitcase I put (insert one item here followed by whatever item the 20-odd students before said they put in their suitcase when they went on vacation) game.”

Today I attended a reading on campus at Scripps Cottage. I went with the expectation that what would be read would NOT be poetry. I was rewarded with an excerpt from a story about a simple, and unattractive girl/woman named Gertrude who happily is asked out on her first date in five years and who is also, sadly, let go from her job. It was short, it was entertaining, and it was lacking in rhyme and meter. My sense of relief was short-lived though as the next reader read nothing but poetry. It was repetitive, mind-numbing, eyes-glazing-over-due-to-sheer-boredom poetry. His poetry brought to mind an elementary school game that I do not so fondly remember. The “I went on vacation and in my suitcase I put (insert one item here followed by whatever item the 20-odd students before said they put in their suitcase when they went on vacation) game.” It was funny at first, but as the minutes went by, how many I couldn’t say as the cottage lacks a clock, it became slow torture, his voice droning on and on, the repeated sentences running together into one long line of blah blah blah….

Are you still with me? It’s maddening isn’t it? I should’ve warned you to skip to the end. Just be happy I kept it to one page. The reader went through multiple pages before the droning finally stopped.

The last person to read was a published fiction writer named Katherine Towler. She read an excerpt from the third book in her Snow Island trilogy. The series follows two generations of two families and explores how each family and the surrounding community is affected by war. In this particular novel the characters are coping with the repercussions of the Gulf War of the early 1990s. She read the first chapter and then skipped 150 pages and read an excerpt from a later chapter. Her writing was descriptive, but not overly so; her words brought the setting to life and her characters, with whom our time was short, were intriguing men and women whose stories seem worthy of further exploration.

I may not have a great appreciation for poetry, but I do have a fondness for fiction and I left this reading with the desire to finish the story that Towler began. I will have to make sure to add it my list, the ever-growing list of books that must be read. Maybe one day I’ll add in some works of poetry as well… I have always had the idea that one day I’d make it through all the works of Shakespeare… but before I do all of this I must admit, I’m also a little curious about Gertrude and how her first date in five years went.