His voice is seeping with wisdom and inflection. He seems to know exactly what the characters are talking about or feeling as he goes along. My ears have to strain, I'm on the edge of my seat. It's a wonderful sensation.
Who knew that my college experience would be so enriched by the simplest thing as being read to? Last semester it was bits from Beloved and T. S. Eliot that had my heart strumming along.
Now it is Bausch reading & telling stories:
"Indian Camp" (Hemingway)
my own story somewhere here***
"In Another Country" (Hemingway again)
Did you hear the one about Eudora Welty at the party? Her wine glass not filled with red, but with bourbon instead...pushing back a haughty lady in white until she was against a wall?
or Jill McCorkle accidentally taking her dog's heartworm medication while on the phone with Alice Hoffman? Jill promptly called poison control and learned that they didn't have much of a sense of humor when she told them she wanted to scratch her ear with her foot.
***And then my own story prompted the telling of another interesting relationship in which two friends were having dinner with a man--they found out he was seeing both of them and for about four seconds the man thought the greatest thing was about to happen...it did not.
Then he talked us down from ledges and window sills. He talked us out of over-thinking and the fear of never finding the right title. He told us the importance of reading the ones that came before us and the ones writing now.
p.s. During break he and I had a little poetry pow-wow about this little gem.