Printer's Row Lit Fest at 30

I've been going to the Printer's Row Lit Fest a long time now, off and on, first as a book lover and

View from New City's Lit 50 party. 

would-be writer, later as an author and book collector, and for the last five years as a representative of the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame. I go for the programming, I go for the books, I go to promote various whatnot, and I go because everybody else goes.

Each year, I leave the festival with more regret for all I missed than satisfaction for all I managed. That's

partly because the programming is dense and overlapping. While it seems possible to get to the beginning this and the end of that, the walk between Jones College Prep's fifth-floor classroom and the Guild Complex tent, short as it is, ruins the plan.

This year, I tried to enjoy more and stress less, and I did this partly through the magic of interns. DePaul students Julia Jakubow, Danielle Hale and Erin Kibby spent parts of their pre-finals weekend working the CLHOF table, running around taking notes and pictures for a future database project, collecting signatures on books, and generally freeing up my time.

Nora Brooks Blakley reading from The Tiger Who Wore
White Gloves at the 2nd annual Brooksday. 

I sat in on parts of the Brooksday and Sunday Salon readings; listened to Rosellen Brown share her wisdom about navigating a writing life; heard Walter Mosley weigh in on the science fiction genre; talked a bit with Dan Epstein; peeked at the sports panel with Ira Berkow; stopped at Brian and Jan Hieggelke's New City Lit 50 party; and so forth.

Mostly, I ran into people. Or they ran into me.

The Poetry Foundation, for the third year running, offered the CLHOF a table under their tent--for our tiny, poor organization this is a critical and productive gift. Another Chicago Magazine was there, as was Chicago Quarterly Review, and Poetry Center of Chicago.

Some of these people I knew a lot, some a little, some not at all, but by the end of the weekend we were all old pals.

That, for me, is the joy of the lit fest, more so even than the programming: a sense of community.

The Guild Literary Complex tent was just a few tents away on Polk, and the Ernest Hemingway Foundation of Oak Park was camped out just around the corner on Dearborn. When I walked down the south side of Dearborn, I could catch up with Jacob Saenz over at Rhino, or Randy Richardson at Chicago Writers Association, or Michael O'Mary at Dream of Things, or Ian Morris at Fifth Star Press, or Victor David Giron at Curbside Splendor. If I walked down the north side, I could talk to Christian TeBordo at Roosevelt University or Sharon Woodhouse at Lake Claremont Press or Emily Victorson at Allium Press or Robert Loerzel at Society of Midland Authors. Dodging in and around the tents, I could catch up with Luisa Bueller, Krista August, Bob Goldsborough, Diane Madsen. I might (did) run into Rick Kogan breaking from his emcee duties, or I might (did) see Audrey Niffenegger at the party, or I might (did) turn around to discover Mare Swallow of Chicago Writers Conference.

Each organization, each writer, has their own agenda--there's no way around that. But Chicago cultural organizations and writers are overwhelmingly generous, and at the Lit Fest it's all on display. Steve Young and Reg Gibbons, at the Poetry Foundation tent, shared stories and ideas, helpful not just for their own causes (of which they have many), but mine: hey, here's something that might benefit the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame. Allison Sansone, the director of the EHFOP, enjoying the perfect weather at her table, made an offer that she knew would be useful to us. John Rich gave me a shirt. (Not off his back, exactly, but I like it anyway). Ellen Placey Wadey offered a tutorial on the little thingy that lets you take credit card payments on your phone. I strolled the fair at times with Dmitry Samarov and Richard Reeder and Natalia Nebel, and so many others, all who, in ways big and small, have contributed to the growth of the CLHOF. I chatted with fair goers stopping by our table: Carolyn Saper, doing extraordinary work for the American Writers Museum, and Useni Eugene Perkins, the legendary writer and thinker who served on our most recent selection committee.

I try to remember this generosity. It's easy to fall into the habit of asking, of taking, and not of offering, giving. But Chicago's literature as a whole, and each of us individually, is much the better when we have the sense that we're in it together. For the most part, we all want the same things, though often in drastically different ways. All of these organizations I've mentioned are doing valuable work--work that  goes largely unnoticed and in a great many cases unpaid.

When I guided Julia, Erin and Danielle through the network of writers and venders and organizations, I felt civic pride in our literature and the people behind it: look, be amazed, this is US!

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Donald G. Evans is the founder and executive director of the Chicago Literary Hall of Fame. He is the author of the novel Good Money After Bad and short story collection An Off-White Christmas, as well as the editor of the anthology Cubbie Blues: 100 Years of Waiting Till Next Year. He is the Chicago editor of the Great Lakes Cultural Review. He serves on the American Writers Museum's Chicago Literary Council and the committee that selects the Harold Washington Literary Award.

donaldgevans@hotmail.com