the Book of Voices - Lisa Hemminger

The Romans were wrong. Bacchus was a woman.

And a salty woman at that. But one thing wouldn't change. She, too, would love wine, women, and song. Would she call herself a "big dyke" or simply assume the guise of a "factory lady"? Who knows? And would it matter whatever she did?

Lisa Hemminger personnifies the modern Bacchus of Chicago's performance poetry circuit. She's worn the self-ascribed monikers of "big dyke" and "factory lady" with not-so-indifferent and well-humored pride. Since 1997, Hemminger has been leading crowds thick and thin through the plights of open mike readings and the occasional featured set. She set up camp in the name of "Yammer", her wide-open poetry open-mike at the Joy Blue tavern, and hasn't relented since.

Yes, she made for Chicago's suburbs to teach performance poetry at the College of DuPage, the course being the first of its kind. (Who teaches performance poetry for college credit, anyway? Anybody else?) Yes, she meant to retire from the hectic social foofarall of the open mike poetry racket in Chicago, and her plans were well-made. Yes, she meant to spend much time in retreat from Chicago, working on her writing full-time. But she came back, and in the time since her intended departure she performed and MC'd poetry in more places than ever.

The deal with Bacchus is, you gotta party. You live for celebration and revelry. The occasional (or not so occasional) bawdy joke. And that, once in play, is a hard thing to leave behind. But as people on the circuit know, the party isn't all play. A lot of it is work. Calling people to keep in touch. Getting the back stories on why venues around town are succeeding (or not). Working on features. Working on new writing. Keeping up with the criticisms flying about the city of one writer or another's performances, books, or revues. Eeking out a living among it all just to pay essential bills and keep writing. Keeping up with publishers' deadlines. Cranking out the articles for the local papers. It's daunting,

And speaking of urban rituals...

Lisa Hemminger's "Yammer" weekly open-mike is like many others in Chicago in that it begins with a bit of shtick. While everything is live, it's still like getting a station-ID, that reaffirming signal that you've reached the right frequency on your tuner. Such shtick is a rite with Chicago's open-mikes.

You can sample a bit of this ritual from a September 2000 recording of Hemminger introducing her show with "Tom Tom the Anal-retentive Straight Guy" (a.k.a. her co-host Tom Henke).

and it can wipe out many people. But such work is exactly the spice that Hemminger seems to thrive on, and Chicago's poetry circuit, being equal parts hot language and cold beer, can make it feel a little easier.

For example, there are rites to be maintained. Go to a Yammer open-mike, and you'll hear words by the Belle of Amherst sung to the tune of the "Yellow Rose of Texas." This has to happen at least once during the show, usually as the closer. Joyous sacrilege. Hemminger will explain in a plain face that most any poem by Emily Dickenson can be sung to that bar room tune. But even with that given, her appreciation for Dickenson is not second class. Sylvia Plath? She ranks up there, too.

Reckless as this may seem, Hemminger's idea of fun does not come at the expense of reverence for the language. Listen to her performances, and you'll hear more than the occasional reference to something out of the American canon. Phrases retuned and quoted as a nod to their original authors, some outright citations, some pushed back a bit from direct quotes by Hemminger's combination of circumstance and voice. Morsels of surprise and recognition, like unexpected mileposts. Balancing that, Hemminger uses the whole language, and her whole life in the process of creating her poetic performances. So if you're uncomfortable with the exploits of anyone who'd happily refer to herself as a "big dyke", you should have logged off this website long ago. For Hemminger, censorship ends at home.

The underlying reality is that Hemminger does want to have fun, but to also show that the religious reverence taught for the great writers of the past may be pumped up beyond those very authors' own values. She humanizes poetry by making it a potluck dinner. She grounds the verse and context in common rewards and common experiences. Everybody wants to have a good time; authors don't do what they do without giving and getting some kind of satisfaction. "If it ain't a pleasure, it ain't a poem." So poetry is a party, a feast that keeps on going. And with Lisa Hemminger around, the party's just begun to warm up.

- KEH