By Aubrey Cowley
That was the general sentiment amongst me and my friends as we drove through flooded streets to our February 26th reading. Water glazed the windshield and splashed alongside the car as we carefully made our way to Bohemeo’s. Any rational person would’ve stayed home. But, as over two years at Glass Mountain have taught me, the Houston literary community is anything but rational. I love it for that.
I waved at soggy old friends and made soggy new ones when I walked in. Every time someone arrived, I assumed they would be the last to do so, but people kept trickling in. Maybe it was the excellence of Bohemeos’ drinks, or the promise of good literature, or the allure of defying Houston weather, or some combination of those factors, but we had a full crowd by the time the reading started.
Aris Kian Brown opened for us with some truly wonderful poetry. Aris is a UH undergrad, an associate poetry editor for Glass Mountain and Shards, and an intern at Gulf Coast. With all that going on, I have no idea how she has the time to write, but I’m extremely glad she does, because she treated us to some superb material. My personal favorite was “Brimstone,” a poem which demonstrated Aris’s talent for evocative imagery. She’ll be starting her MFA at UH next fall, and I expect they know exactly how lucky they are to have her in their program.
Alicia Alcantara-Narrea read next. I admit some personal bias here, because Alicia is part of my prose team on Glass Mountain, but I can still say that the short story she treated us to, “Ubiquitous,” was an objectively compelling and fascinating piece, showcasing her strong authorial voice. Alicia is an undergrad at UH with a myriad of interests, and I excitedly anticipate whatever she’s going to work on next.
Sabino Luévano-Ortega was our last featured reader for the evening. Sabino completed his bachelor’s in Hispanic Literature in Mexico, and moved to the U.S., where he received his master’s in Hispanic Literature at UH and is currently working on a dissertation about Mexican cinema. When not teaching Spanish, literature, and cinema, he writes mostly essays and narratives in Spanish and works as a columnist at El Nopal. Sabino read three poems: first the original Spanish versions, and then the translated English versions. It was wonderful to hear the poems in both forms; I especially enjoyed “Las cuatro y seis (4:06),” which skillfully utilized powerful images and repetition.
Open mic followed, and we had a sign-up sheet filled with talented, unique voices. There was an amazing balance of poignancy and humor that night; the honesty of our open mic readers made that possible. I think good writing phrases difficult truths in unique but understandable ways. Sometimes those truths are communicated through humor, sometimes through tragedy. Both approaches require a great deal of skill and bravery, which our readers all had in spades.
After the reading was over, the rain had turned into something less than a sprinkle—a mist, maybe. Water had collected in potholes and was still dripping out of gutters. At that time, I didn’t know that throughout the following week the weather would continue to fluctuate between freezing evenings, balmy afternoons, and damp mornings, but even if I had, I don’t think I would’ve minded. People who care will find ways to show up to the important things regardless of the obstacles, and I can confidently say that these readings are important. Good art and good friends are worth a trip through the rain.
If you’d like to attend our last reading for the semester, we’d love to have you! It’ll be our launch party for the sure-to-be-fantastic Issue #22, held on April 24th at 5:30 p.m. at the M.D. Andrerson Library.
