a high, fizzy lisp
I am not sure who Lawrence Cosentino, of City Pulse fame, was in the audience last Wednesday night at our reading, but I am glad he liked the show. I rarely read reviews of poetry readings in mainstream press, let alone a review that takes you from A to Z through the thesaurus with such flamboyant prose, and written by a total stranger (at least to me). He loved Ruelaine's and Bob's performances and, of course, the narcissist in me was curious what he said about me. It goes a little like this:
Chartkoff, by contrast, came on like an overcompensating veteran of terminal shyness, making self-deprecating asides before leaning forward to make ripe comparisons between poetry reading and sex. He read in a high, fizzy lisp, hitting the same notes over and over. His gawky determination had the effect of humanizing his intelligent poetry and making it seem much less mannered than it does on the printed page.
A high, fizzy lisp? Hitting the same notes over and over? Gawky determination? Okay … I guess people call them like they see them or is this just a case of damning with faint praise? Hmmm …