Last night I gave a reading for the membership of a local women's organization. I read a story published a few years ago, "A Midwestern Goodbye," recounting my first visit to this Illinois town. It features my in-laws, their friends June and Andy, the pastor and other local personalities, all referred to by first name only.
The ladies followed the story attentively and, I think, appreciatively, but every time a character was introduced ("Their friends June and Andy burst into the kitchen"), they tuned out and turned to each other. I could practically hear them whispering, "No, not Andy Phillips; his wife is Jane, not June. Must be Andy and June Anderson.") Once they had the cast sorted out, they'd return their attention.
I'd forgotten that this is the Midwest. Details are important, and no detail is more important than "who": Who's she's related to? Who were his parents? Who did he marry after what's-his-name dumped her?
Guess I shoulda prefaced the reading with an oral dramatis personae, a rundown of who's who in the story.
My bad.
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