author-ific

Having just floated in, wrapped in the beautiful gauze that is Michael Ondaatje reading his own work, this column may not make a lot of sense.

I'll try my best, however.

The International Festival of Authors has kicked off at Harbourfront, and yes, scribes of every sort are intoning their carefully-conceived prose and poetry before silent, saucer-eyed Torontonians.

I was one of the saucer-eyed tonight, though certainly, walking in, I was concerned that I might be bored.

Being used to theatre, live action, costumes, props, etc, I was a bit worried at the 'dryness' factor in watching a writer stand up and simply read.

My fears were, however, totally unfounded.

Yes, I have been to the IFOA in past years, but I must've forgotten how great it is.

My thirst for drama, humanity, humour, and insight were all quenched -through words and the spark of imagination which Ondaatje and his cohorts set off at the Premiere Dance Theatre.

The evening began with Margaret Chistakos, a Canadian author as well as teacher of creative writing with the University of Toronto.

I loved that she shared her personal inspirations for her work, and loved the rhythm of her words; the IFOA program, quoting the Pat Lowter Award Jury, describes her as "a linguistic trailblazer". No kidding.

I don't know many writers who can combine Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass with a bedtime story for kids about a camel, and weave in a tapestry of assorted voices, and recognizable scenarios, and be spellbinding.

Margaret Christakos, however, was just that.

Following her was the French writer, Celine Curiol, who brought an altogether more different, and somewhat more formal, energy.

Curiol read from her book, Voice Over, about a lonely woman who works in a Paris train station and is in love with the wrong guy. Curiol's restrained reading manner, combined with her lovely French accent, lent her work a certain bite I might not have noticed, were I to read it. She has a good ear for dialogue -inner and outer -as well as for balancing tragedy and comedy.

That fine balance was precisely the line Norwegian author Halfdan W. Freihow straddled as he read from his confessional book, Dear Gabriel. The book is written in epistolary form, adddressed to his own autistic son. Freihow gave lovely observations and insights -physical, mental, emotional -about a boating trip taken with Gabriel, and though I found his reading style a bit pedantic, I found the selection itself most moving.

I have to confess, I had no idea what to expect with Marina Lewycka.

I hadn't heard of her prior to the festival, and I wasn't sure a story about migrant workers in Britain would be ... much of a base for comedy. Wow, was I wrong.

Lewycka, with glasses on edge of nose, bob hair, lose trousers, and soft, British-accented voice, is a vision of my ideal high school English teacher. Smart, funny, warm, interesting, insightful, engaging -she drew her audience right in with her tales from Strawberry Fields. I can't wait to read it now.

And, last, but not least, one of my all-time favourite authors, Mr. English Patient himself, Michael Ondaatje. I was trying to think the last time I'd heard Ondaatje read his own work -it must've been at least ten years since he appeared as part of the Authors Series that summer in Stratford.

I remember being captivated then, and tonight I was reminded why.

For me, Ondaatje is first, foremost, and mainly, a poet.

Yes, he is a master-weaver of storylines and characters, but the way he does it -and the way he writes, and in fact, reads, point to poetry.

A sample of The Collected Works of Billy the Kid or The Cinnamon Peeler, or indeed, hearing his works read aloud, confirm the poet status.

As his voice gently, carefully, rhythmically combed over the words, like the softest striking of a xylophone, the audience at the Premiere Dance theatre grew enrapt.

Sure, his plots are vague and his characters usually don't say much and sometimes he can be very obtuse in his writing style... but so what?

Plot seems to be in service to their poetry and rhythm, really, not the only way around. Ondaatje's reading, with his careful annunciation and careful attention to pace, underlines the breathy beauty of his words, so lovingly, carefully strung together.

As he ended, smiled, and took his seat amidst applause, I wanted to shout, like George Sand lying under Chopin's piano, DON'T STOP!

Bravo IFOA, bravo Harbourfront, for recognizing and celebrating such amazing authors.

I can hardly wait to hear more.

The International Authors Festival runs to October 27th at Harbourfront Centre.
For more information, go to www.readings.org