In Person
Fri., May 8, 1998
At Johnson's reading on Tuesday night at UT, things started out typically enough. Professor James Magnuson, head of the Michener Center for Writers, introduced Johnson to the packed room, mentioning that the author had been teaching a graduate class in writing this semester, and that he and his family would soon be heading back home to northern Idaho. By the way, continued Magnuson, Johnson's Cadillac convertible, "the reddest Cadillac convertible in the world," was for sale for $5,200, and was parked in front of the J. Frank Dobie House, in case anyone wanted to go for a test drive after the reading.
Then Johnson took the podium and, based on my memory of the last reading of his I attended, things proceeded typically enough. Johnson scratched his head and began flipping through Already Dead, muttering that he had no idea what he was going to read but he might as well read something from his latest novel or his publisher would be disappointed. But first, he read from a newspaper clipping from the town paper in Idaho where he lives. An item from the crime beat, it read: "A woman reported a white Trans Am flying a pirate flag from the car's antenna was driving around town 80 miles per hour and running people off the road." Then Johnson read a segment from Already Dead about two dysfunctional crooks driving around the northern California woods, looking for a guy they're either going to bump off or convince to pay a large debt. Typically, one of the screw-ups starts waxing poetic about the sound of a train in the distance, and reminiscing about his past life in Fresno, when his companion interrupts and says, "That's not a train, it's a helicopter." But it's okay, because his pal isn't sure it was Fresno he was thinking about, anyway. Typical Johnson stuff.
Between readings, Johnson consistently injected the same kind of mind-bending tricks and self-effacing humor that make his novels and short stories so great. In fact, it's hard to say which was better - the readings or the ad libs. The hilarious and strange "The Other Man," from Jesus' Son, for example, contains the usual number of brilliant throwaway phrases, like "the sky was as blue and brainless as the love of God," juxtaposed with classic hardboiled Raymond Chandler nuggets like "The sunset had two minutes to live." Johnson paused after this last line and spent a good five minutes talking about how great Chandler was, which showed his good taste. But what was more revealing was the fact that Johnson went back and repeated the line several more times, then paused and said, "Are you following all this?" just as he had during earlier selections, in what I believe was a not-so-subtle admission that he enjoys the off-centeredness of his writing every bit as much as his fans do. -Jesse Sublett
