![]() ![]() If the unusual circumstances were a sneaky sales schtick to prompt us to buy more of Karr’s sass, her raw and hilarious storytelling and her hard-won spiritual and creative wisdom, it worked. Whatever the influence of her painkillers that night, the hour that followed was intimate, the room too dark for me to take notes as Karr made us snicker and howl and performed remote open-heart emotional surgery around the room. Instead, it was Karr herself who appeared from the shoulders up, Skyping in from her Syracuse, New York, apartment where she’d fallen and injured herself days before, leaving her too banged up for the flight to South Bend. ![]() Naturally the anonymous, workaday rabble of us had showed up expecting Karr and her trademark Texas wit in person, wondering what she’d be projecting on the massive movie screen centered behind the podium. ![]() I bought Mary Karr’s Lit in Washington Hall, minutes after her keynote address to the group of Catholic writers who gathered at Notre Dame in the summer of 2017. ![]()
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