Week of literary readings in San Francisco kicks off with homage to Ginsberg

John Beck/The Santa Rosa Press Democrat
Thursday, October 6, 2005
(Read original article here.)

"Today, if you’re a poet in San Francisco, you better have a damn good day job," says Litquake co-founder Jack Boulware.

But 50 years ago, when Allen Ginsberg first read "Howl" at the Six Gallery, things were a little different. You could couch surf your way across the country on a dime. A bottle of red wine was nothing, and jazz was even cheaper. What more did you need?

The idea of anyone "dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix" in San Francisco today evokes either Tenderloin tweakers or the nouveau riche craving Prada.

Recalling the foggy heyday of the Beats, Litquake kicks off a week of readings and events at Friday night’s "Howl Redux," pairing authors and celebs with dopplegangers from the distant past. Armistead Maupin does his best Mark Twain. Amy Tan mounts a tribute to Iris Chang. Even Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown summons Jack London (get it, the square?).

But Michael Madsen invoking John Steinbeck?

Imagine the tough-guy actor who sliced off a cop’s ear in "Reservoir Dogs" reading "The Red Pony."

"Why not?" says Boulware, who penned the freaky travel guide "San Francisco Bizarro." Rounding up more than 250 authors can be like "herding cats" anyway, so when Madsen called and said he wanted to be part of the festival, the only hesitation was the first-class plane ticket. It turns out, Madsen is footing the bill. After all, he’s a poet with a day job (Witness: "The Complete Poetic Works of Michael Madsen, Vol. 1: 1995-2005").

When Boulware founded the festival five years ago with Chronicle reporter Jane Ganahl, the goal was to "give everyone who reads a reason to put down their books and get out of the house."

It worked. Bookworms and wonks not only shed the sofa, they partied. Drinks were had and music played somewhere in the background. The festival took a year off for the dot-com bust, but now it lures a bigger draw every year. At this point, the only elusive Bay Area author seems to be Isabele Allende. And even if "Trainspotting" author Irvine Welsh won’t be there this year, as he was the first two years, the festival has all the necessary ingredients when it comes to sex, drugs and you-know-what.

Chemicals arrive first as the Sunday night pub seminar, Drugschool: Writers on Pills, Powders, Plants and Pints, examines "authors under the influence and the work they produce." Then the Lit Crawl finale next Saturday warms up with a "Getting Hot" erotica reading at Good Vibrations, and dozens of readings at Mission District clubs like 12 Galaxies and Elbo Room might even inspire some good old rock ‘n’ roll.

But don’t get the wrong idea; the finale blowout is not all about booze and Baudelaire.

"There were actually people running down the street last year at the Lit Crawl to see people reading," Boulware says. "That’s amazing in this day and age."