BRIAN DOYLE STORM WARNING

Via avemariapress.com

A New Name For Literary Energy? Force Of Nature Brian Doyle.

If you live in Portland long enough you can predict the weather. The Columbia Gorge freezes before ice storms hit town.

Loaded rain clouds drift in the coast range extending their shadow.

In spite of the recent heat wave, ice and rain are all the rest of the country needs to know about Portland. People planning to move here need second thoughts. Even thirds.

If that’s not enough, you’ll be shocked when new weather systems sweep down from the north. Every fifteen minutes.

Instead of giving each storm a new name like hurricane tradition, it’s safe to call them all Brian Doyle.

And it’s safe to be outside when they strike.

A Doyle struck Portland’s Old Church last night.

Willamette Writer members were directly in the cross hairs.

I missed the early part of the storm. Stuck in I-5, the traffic backed up on the north lanes from Sacramento, or Salem, or maybe just Wilsonville.

Unprepared and unprotected, I walked into the Doyle maelstrom.

Like bright sun reflecting off the crest of each new wave, or wind turning the leaves of every  quaking aspen, Brian Doyle was already at F5.

Somehow the Old Church stayed in one piece.

What sort of pressure does a Brian Doyle bring into a room?

You’ve heard about writers? They are introverts who struggle in front of crowds?

Didn’t happen.

Some writers go out in public because that’s part of the career plan and they show up with odd attitudes.

That didn’t happen, either.

How about the recluse who keeps everything in to churn and roil until they see it in print?

That’s as far from a Doyle as you’ll get.

Instead, this man invited every member within earshot into his writing world, his writing room.

The Old Church subbed for his library, his Delmore Schwartz park bench, his Saul Bellow bar. It was an irresistible invitation coupled with a certain fear.

Like bad sports fans who attend auto races hoping for a crash as spectacular as a Daytona wipe out, or attend football games waiting for someone’s limbs to bend backward like Joe Theismann’s leg, some writers and readers attend meetings to watch authors meltdown.

How does an author melt in front of a crowd?

“(Mumble, mumble, mumble) Thank you for having me. (Mumble, mumble, mumble) Anyway, where was I? (Mumble, mumble, mumble) And I’ll be signing books after I’m done here.”

Call it the Mumbler’s Meltdown; don’t call it a Brian Doyle.

A Doyle never mumbles.

You’ll know you’ve been hit by a Doyle when you hear a voice that’s part Seinfeld, part revival tent blaster, and all heart.

He struck home with his take on the Emancipation Proclamation:

“After 1863 no one can go to the village square and look at a naked sixteen year old girl to buy and take home.

“No one will stick their fingers into someone’s mouth to feel for their teeth before buying them to work like a horse.

“It’s against the law.”

You’ll feel a Doyle long after it’s gone, and you’ll be wise to hold onto that feeling.

Baby boomers know what it feels like to lose something important.

Portland baby boomers need to teach the rising millennial generation how to survive loss and craft a new life.

Weathering a Brian Doyle is a good place to start.