A late dispatch from the New York correspondent

A late dispatch from the New York correspondent

A chilly night in New York, fall in the air, geese winging along a flyway over West 91st, a lively crowd watching a playground basketball game. Unusual in these pandemic days, to hear a cheering crowd. We’ve been isolating here since March, avoiding the dread virus, leading a life more like that of a lighthouse keeper than a New Yorker, no plays, no Fauré or Bizet or cabaret, though Sunday we sat in a sidewalk café and had a cassoulet, a small soirée, just three of us, me and the Missus and our friend Suzanne whom I like to hang out with because she’s older than I and very lively. She is proof that aging, though likely to be fatal, need not be dull. Gusts of talk, none of it touching on the Unmentionable.

I’m fond of fall, the beauty and brevity of it. Soon the iron gates will clank shut and we descend into the dark trenches of winter. A person always imagines there will be more warm evenings and suppers outdoors, but fall teaches otherwise. And that is what makes life beautiful, the knowledge of approaching November. Last week the world was drenched with the beauty Van Gogh was crazy for and that is why we send our kids off to school, so they don’t become obsessed with beauty and goldenness and can pay attention to algorithms and multiplicity and divisiveness. I was a mediocre student, but every fall I appeared in the classroom door, struggled through college and humanities courses of which I remember nothing at all — I should’ve studied auto mechanics — and then when I was 27, I was hired by a radio station to work the 6 a.m. shift and the same fall, a magazine bought a story of mine for $500. My monthly rent was $80. I was off to the races.

We want what we cannot have. The heart wants life to go on and on. So the old writer goes on writing stories, still hopeful, though there’s plenty of evidence that you hit your peak at forty. You sit doing something you’ve done steadily since childhood and it’s still of keen interest. And Sunday night I dreamed about writing. I’d written a book about the Soviet Union and was invited to talk about it up in the Berkshires and drove on winding roads through little hill towns to a house where I walked up a strange steep staircase with tiny steps to the attic where a dozen people sat around a table to hear my talk. I joked about who should leave first if there were a fire and nobody laughed. They were all communists and took sharp issue with my book and shouted at me in Russian, which I understood but could not speak. The quiet domestic pandemic life has been bringing me a wild dream life.

Read the rest of the column >>>

Classic A Prairie Home Companion

Every Saturay, a classic broadcast from the archives is featured on our Facebook fan page and on the website for your listening pleasure. The link to the show is posted at 5 pm CT but can be accessed anytime.
This weekend we'll rebroadcast a great show we did in Charlottesville back in 2003. Virginia-based Americana music masters Robin and Linda Williams were with us, as well as rollicking bluegrass musicians Mountain Heart. Mike Seeger was there, too, playing traditional songs from the rural American South.

Follow our Facebook Fan page >>>
Visit our website >>>
Browse the archive >>>

That Time of Year: A Memoir by Garrison Keillor (AUTOGRAPHED)

At long last, the memoir is coming! It's been a work in progress for over 3 years with Garrison writing, re-writing, revising, re-writing again...you get the picture. It will be published by Arcade Publishing wherever books are available on November 17th.
Autographed copies can currently be reserved/pre-ordered from our store, and they will ship to arrive on November 17th. If you order the book before November 17th, you will get $5 off ($25 instead of $30) and on the day the book releases, you will receive a link to a video from Garrison giving exclusive background info about the writing of the memoir and other aspects.
Please be aware that Garrison's signature will appear on the extra page in the front matter that features a limerick. Many folks who ordered signed Lake Wobegon Virus novels could not believe that the neat, straight signature on the limerick page was truly autographed and not mass-printed. We assure you that for both new books, Garrison spent about 4 consecutive days personally signing 3,000 copies with an ultra-fine Sharpie or a gel pen, depending on which one still had ink. Those signatures may look suspiciously perfect, but they are the real deal and they vary from copy to copy! (In related ideas, maybe we can convince Garrison to give us all a Zoom class on penmanship.)
Here are a few words Garrison wrote while he was finishing up revising:
"My memoir now stands at 95,000 words and growing. A proper homage to my teachers at Anoka High and the SFX guys Tom Keith and Fred Newman, and my parents and my aunts and grandma Dora. I also toot my own horn for (1) the Good Poems books, (2) inviting Allen Ginsberg on the show to read "Song of Myself," and (3) a convocation at St. Olaf when, en route to the college, I decided to ditch the speech and instead stood in the midst of the crowded chapel and led the audience in an hour of a cappella songs, choruses, fragments, hymns, pop stuff, the Doxology, How Great Thou Art, My Girl, John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, and was astonished, floored, gobsmacked, at the beauty of Lutheran voices when you can shoot the organist and let people sing. I am starting to like this book. It's a cheerful book. Funny stuff. How I gave up writing incomprehensible poetry and switched to comedy. Why Prairie Home lasted so long (no staff meetings). My venture into standup. My long happy marriage to Jenny Nilsson."

From the publisher:
With the warmth and humor we've come to know, the creator and host of A Prairie Home Companion shares his own remarkable story.

In That Time of Year, Garrison Keillor looks back on his life and recounts how a Brethren boy with writerly ambitions grew up in a small town on the Mississippi in the 1950s and, seeing three good friends die young, turned to comedy and radio. Through a series of unreasonable lucky breaks, he founded A Prairie Home Companion and put himself in line for a good life, including mistakes, regrets, and a few medical adventures. PHC lasted forty-two years, 1,557 shows, and enjoyed the freedom to do as it pleased for three or four million listeners every Saturday at 5 p.m. Central. He got to sing with Emmylou Harris and Renée Fleming and once sang two songs to the U.S. Supreme Court. He played a private eye and a cowboy, gave the news from his hometown, Lake Wobegon, and met Somali cabdrivers who’d learned English from listening to the show. He wrote bestselling novels, won a Grammy and a National Humanities Medal, and made a movie with Robert Altman with an alarming amount of improvisation.

Pre-order a signed copy from our store >>>

The Lake Wobegon Virus

You can return to the 'little town that time forgot and decades could not improve" and still find that "all the women are strong, the men are good looking and the children are all above average" as The Lake Wobegon Virus is now available wherever books are sold!
Some early responses from readers:
"I was so thoroughly enjoying it that my wife, Pat, asked me to stop laughing so hard. The bed was shaking and disturbing her reading. Thanks so much for bringing joy into this unusual time in our lives." –Fred
“I normally read books in one or two sittings, but I’m savoring this one. Last night the first few chapters made me laugh aloud—just what I needed.” –Fran from Georgia
“I finished reading my autographed copy last night and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I smiled all the way through (mostly), laughed out loud a few times, and was much moved by the end. Get this book.” –Stan from Virginia
“As has been the case with all Garrison's books, I thoroughly enjoyed this one. Amid the chuckles, giggles, and snorts of glee, there were sighs of longing, tears, and a distinct feeling a neat and final bow was being wrapped around that little town that time forgot and the decades cannot improve.” –MK from New York
“Read my copy over the labor day weekend, I couldn't put the thing down! Garrison, my dear, thank you!!” –Madeleine from Michigan
“Classic Keillor––so funny and yet sharp. Almost finished it and would have except I end up calling my daughter to read excerpts to her, laughing so hard she can't really understand. Cheese? Have you eaten the Portuguese cheese recently? Buy the book." –Bobbie Lee
The Lake Wobegon Virus is available wherever books are sold NOW! (Yes, including eBooks such as Kindles!) An audio version will also be released at the end of the month, narrated by Garrison of course.

Get a signed copy from our store >>>

Mother Father Uncle Aunt

This collection of "News from Lake Wobegon" monologues--all taken from live broadcasts of A Prairie Home Companion--is an extended meditation on the joys, sorrows, challenges, and humor of raising children. The tales include "Ronnie and the Winnebago" about a young man and his long struggle to earn his father's understanding; "Love While You Dare," the story of August Johnson, who, after losing his brother in a gambler's prank in Copenhagen, flees to America rather than face his mother--who later comes to visit him in Lake Wobegon; and six more splendid, unforgettable accounts of how, in Keillor's words, "the meek shall inherit the earth, and when we have done all we can with our children, it's time to step back and let them inherit it." Over 3 hours on 3 CDs.

Get the CDs >>>

Nothing You Do For Children Paperweight

This gem of wisdom from Leaving Home, Garrison Keillor's best-selling book of Lake Wobegon stories, is for every parent, grandparent and teacher--anyone, really, who cares deeply about children. Without a doubt, the eight simple words are a big reason all children in Lake Wobegon are "above average." Quotation is etched on a substantial glass weight and packaged in a lovely gift box. Made in the USA.

Get the paperweight >>>