Thursday, Oct. 24Will SelfBecause his latest novel is such a chore to

Thursday, Oct. 24

Will Self

Because his latest novel is such a chore to read, I look forward to hearing the author give voice to Umbrella (Grove, $17, new in paperback). The book runs 400 pages with no chapters, very few paragraphs, very long Joycean sentences, and constant interjections of italicized text. Two main characters toggle among three points in time: Audrey is a young woman during World War I, then in 1971 a mental-hospital patient of Dr. Busner, who four decades later, in his dotage, reflects on his life (and patients). Self begins Umbrella with an epigraph from Joyce, and the novel is a bold step back into modernist, stream-of-conscious writing that one almost never encounters today. Remember how Faulkner considered using different-colored ink to distinguish the characters of The Sound and the Fury? That might’ve helped readers digest the incredibly dense yet rewarding Umbrella. Poor older Audrey is locked in her body by encephalitis; what’s happening in her head is a matter of guesswork for Dr. Busner. (New drugs revive her, as in Oliver Sacks’ Awakenings.) But what’s happening in his head is sometimes opaque to us, too—as if shielded by an umbrella, which is a membrane, a fragile protection against capricious nature. (Also, young Audrey works in the umbrella trade.) And Self rains down his words in a ferocious, brilliant torrent. For example, “Audrey peeks from behind the door and sees claybrown, marblewhirl, glasstripe with sunrays shining through it so pretty she cannot resist it”—which will probably make more sense coming from Self, rather than simply encountered on the page. Seattle Central Library, 1000 Fourth Ave., 386-4636, spl.org. Free. 7 p.m.

BRIAN MILLER

Vuyani Dance Theatre

The original rule in American modern dance is to “dance who you are.” South African performer/choreographer Gregory Maqoma may not come from that tradition, but he’s certainly following that directive. His work has been described as “auto-ethnographic,” combining personal and political history in kinetic form. Exit/Exist reflects his current experience combining the multitude of dance styles found in Soweto. In the piece, backed by Italian guitarist Giuliano Modarelli and four vocalists from his homeland, Maqoma also portrays his 19th-century ancestor, Xhosa chief Jongum-sobomvu Maqoma. Recognizing the polyglot nature of his art (“I have allowed other cultures, traditions, and forms, by choice, to form part of my anthropological cocktail”), he still fulfills that cardinal rule of modern dance: He is dancing who he is today. (Through Sun.) On the Boards, 100 W. Roy St., 217-9888, ontheboards.org. $25. 8 p.m.

SANDRA KURTZ

Farm to Fable

Rounding out the second annual Lit Crawl Seattle, Seattle Weekly food-and-drink editor Nicole Sprinkle hosts this conversation with fellow food writers Langdon Cook (The Mushroom Hunters), Kathleen Flinn (The Kitchen Counter Cooking School), Joe Ray (The New York Times), and Kurt Timmermeister (Growing a Farmer). At this salon, expect a primer on the pleasures and best practices of home cooking: Flynn will discuss technique; Cook will dish on ingredients and sourcing; and Ray and Timmermeister will explain why it’s all worth the effort. As fall descends and we return to the slower pace of the season, the simple comforts of cooking and reading—indoors, of course—are indeed worth exploring with the authors here. (See litcrawl.org/seattle for a sprawling schedule that includes over 60 authors at 19 venues, including memoirists Claire Dederer and Nicole Hardy at the Century Ballroom and cartoonist Ellen Forney at Hugo House, where an after-party runs from 9 p.m. to midnight.) Capitol Cider, 818 E. Pike St., 397-3564, seattleciderbar.com. Free. 8 p.m.

GWENDOLYN ELLIOTT

Friday, Oct. 25

Horror Week

Who better to launch this series of fright and monster films than Bruce Campbell, the star of Army of Darkness? He’ll appear live tonight, an hour before the 10 p.m. showtime, to answer all your questions about skeleton armies, demonic ghouls, and attaching a chainsaw to your arm. The 1993 trilogy-ender is the high-water mark of his collaborations with Sam Raimi. In the sword-and-sarcasm epic, Ash (Campbell) is transported back from his hardware-store present to the middle ages, where he gets caught up in medieval politics and warfare. And he must also master the secret of the Necronomicon, which he foolishly opens to unleash the army of the dead. (Embeth Davidtz plays the swain to Campbell’s hero.) If there was ever a wisecracking, shotgun- and chainsaw-wielding master of the B-list, it’s Campbell, the closest thing we got in the ’90s to Indiana Jones in the ’80s. Other scary and/or funny titles in the series include The Birds, Alien, Psycho, Dracula, An American Werewolf in London, and The Shining. (Through Halloween.) Cinerama, 2100 Fourth Ave., 448-6880, cinerama.com. $25–$35. 9 p.m.

BRIAN MILLER

Henry Open House

Fall brings a flurry of new shows to the Henry, and tonight’s seasonal party is a great way to knock four artists off your tick-list (along with enjoying food, drinks, music, and a dance performance by Kate Wallich). I strongly recommend photographers Ray K. Metzger and David Hartt; and the latter also has a hypnotic 12-minute video filmed inside a half-empty Chicago office building. With a lovely jazz score by Nicole Mitchell, the piece is like a slo-mo ballet constructed of routine gestures (get coffee, send fax, avoid work, etc.). Downstairs, South Korean artist Haegue Yang has hung a colorful, intricate series of Venetian blinds arranged into geometric shapes. Called Towers on String, they’re not Calder-style mobiles, but static, dangling constructs, humble materials artfully arranged. Next door is the new installation by Jason Dodge, What Have We Done, comprising a half-dozen conceptual pieces dealing with residual traces and lingering energy. The sparse gallery containing Living is scattered with hay and animal hairs from the livestock that once trod the floor. (Were there elephants? He won’t say.) Dodge also deploys pillows, light bulbs, and massive rolls of newsprint in his show. Yang’s work could conceivably be recycled as window treatments, while Dodge’s newsprint will be used in the presses of The Seattle Times. Henry Art Gallery, UW campus, 543-2280, henryart.org. $20. 8–10 p.m.

BRIAN MILLER

Saturday, Oct. 26

Seattle Philharmonic

In the 1945 film melodrama Hangover Square, Laird Cregar plays high-strung composer George Harvey Bone (!), hard at work on a piano concerto and driven over the edge, who discovers that during his stress-induced blackouts, he’s been committing murders. At this time there was a vogue for including concertos—stand-alone pieces that could be extracted for real-life concert performance—in movie scores, especially in films about musicians. One of the best is the high-camp Concerto Macabre that Bernard Herrmann wrote to represent the fictitious Bone’s work. He packs a lot into its 12 minutes: an ominous march, a darkly brooding slow section, a sinister scherzo, and something like a love theme, all in a throbbingly hyper-romantic fog-and-gaslight style. (The snarky might call it Schlockmaninoff.) Why does the orchestra drop out before the end of the piece? Because in the film, Bone commits suicide by setting fire to the concert hall at the premiere of his concerto, and dies playing alone among the flames. The Seattle Philharmonic is resurrecting Concerto Macabre on its Halloween program alongside more conventional spooky numbers like Night on Bald Mountain and Chopin’s “Funeral March.” Adam Stern conducts; the presumably sane Peter Mack is the pianist. (And make a note: For more Herrmann, the Seattle Symphony is screening Psycho with his iconic score played live, Oct. 30 & 31.) Benaroya Hall, Third Ave. & Union St., 215-4747, seattlephil.org. $20–$30. 2 p.m.

GAVIN BORCHERT