A Small Press Book We Love: Let Me Clear My Throat by Elena Passarello
Small presses have had a rough year, but as the literary world continues to conglomerate, we at Literary Hub think they’re more important than ever. Which is why, every (work) day in March—which just so happens to be National Small Press Month—a Lit Hub staff member will be recommending a small press book that they love.
The only rule of this game is that there are no rules, except that the books we recommend must have been published, at some time, and in some place, by a small press. What does it mean to be a small press? Unfortunately there is no exact definition or cutoff. All of the presses mentioned here are considered to be small presses by the recommending editors, and for our purposes, that’s going to be good enough. All of the books mentioned here are considered to be great by the recommending editors, too. If one intrigues you, consider picking it up at your local bookstore, or ordering through Bookshop.org, or even directly from the publisher.
Today, we’re recommending:
Let Me Clear My Throat by Elena Passarello
published by Sarabande Books (2012)
This collection looms large in my personal pantheon. I picked this book of essays up on a browsing whim years ago, having never heard of the imprint or the author. But after spending much time in a sea of fuzzily framed non-fiction, I was drawn to its cohesive entry point. (We love a committed theme!)
Per the title, in each of these probing, funny pieces, Passarello explores the potential, utility, and cultural history of the human voice. She breaks down “screaming memes” like the infamous “Rebel yell,” or the Wilhelm holler popularized in every movie you’ve ever seen. She contemplates pop music via its strangest signifiers, like the Voyager record or the elusive high C, “highest usable note of an operatic soprano.” It all makes for a singular, specific, educating inquiry that’s bound to get you thinking about one thing—the voice—from a dozen different angles. I still wish more people wrote books like this.
Then there’s the revelation of Passarello’s own voice, which is on the line level effervescent; witty and and warm. She’s palpably interested in stretching her range here, and plays with form to fine results. A piece on Sinatra’s singing tips mimics an exercise book, and interspersed among the essays proper you’ll find scraps of unattributed monologic interview from a gamut of public speakers—punk rockers to mayoral candidates.
But no matter the frame, each piece in this collection is infused with a rare, perfectly calibrated blend of fan love and painstaking research. The result is a string of pearls that do feel—to parrot the jacket blurbs—like the best kind of dinner party anecdotes. And as a fellow writer and performer, I especially loved how Passarello incorporated her personal theatrics in this mostly outward-facing collection. Her chronicle of entering the annual Stella scream contest is a personal favorite essay, its ‘I’ being totally necessary, but un-ostentatious. (We love a quest!)
I’ve since gotten to know Sarabande—and Passarello herself—a little better, and can’t recommend either enough. Her follow up close read collection (also from Sarabande) looks at infamous animals.
–Brittany Allen, Staff Writer
