Captivating Storytellers Gather Like Moths to a Flame

What is it about storytelling that’s so compelling to us? Is it a kind of voyeurism—a fixation with the exposed vulnerability of total strangers? Is it simply the joy of living vicariously through others? Perhaps there is something in the form of stories themselves, in the neatness of a tiny world with its own coherence, language, and motifs, that appeals to our desire for rationality.

If you consider yourself a lover of stories but you’ve never experienced The Moth, I recommend that you do so at least once. The Moth is a bi-monthly story slam that takes place at the Bitter End at 147 Bleecker St., the Nuyorican Poet’s Café at 236 E. 3rd St., or occasionally elsewhere (recently, at South Street Seaport, and this upcoming Monday, at Comix at 343 W. 14th St.). The logistics of it are simple: 10 people sign up at the door to tell stories, on a first-come-first-serve basis. Random audience members are formed into teams of judges, and everyone else pays six dollars to watch. Between stories, the snarky emcee makes surprisingly adept jokes or flatters the storyteller, while the judges rate the stories on a scale of one to 10. Stories shouldn’t exceed five minutes in length, and are supposed to relate to some pre-chosen theme of the night (“family ties,” “scars,” “uphill battles,” etc.)—but the judges are the only ones enforcing these rules, so, naturally, they are often taken lightly.

Logistics aside, sitting (or, more likely, standing) in a dark, crowded café on a Tuesday night and watching a person you know nothing about tell a story about his or her life turns out to be one of the most enjoyable things you can do in New York. The stories themselves are usually strong and elegant, due to The Moth’s reputation, although—as can be expected—they’re not always fail-safe. The combined effect of the dramatic lighting, eerie art, and clear voices across a loudspeaker is purely surreal, and is best when accompanied by a glass of red wine and a close friend for perspective.

I’ve gone to about six Moths in the past, and I can still recall certain stories in gory detail at odd moments. One man who’d been a prodigy violinist as a child told the story of losing a hand in a pyrotechnics accident. A woman who’d been incarcerated for 17 years told the story of smuggling an audio tape to her dying mother. A founding member of the Blue Man Group talked about coming out to his older brother. The word “haunting” seems powerless after hearing the stories firsthand, but there’s no other way to describe these kinds of memories.

If you’re interested, audio files of Moth stories and event schedules are available on their Web site, www.themoth.org. In the short term, The Moth GrandSlam, in which winners of previous Moth’s face off, will take place this upcoming Monday night, March 10, at Comix at 7:30 p.m. If you can’t make it, check out the usual Moth on Tuesday at the Nuyorican Poet’s Café at 7:30 p.m. instead.