Here Comes the Storyteller - Tapa dura

In 1985-the year we started Cinco Puntos Press-we had the good fortune to meet Joe Hayes, then just gathering momentum in his career as a storyteller. The thing that completely amazed us about Joe was that, when he told a story, any number of wiggling children suddenly became quiet and listened.

In 1987, we published Joe's wonderful bilingual classic La Llorona, officially launching ourselves as children's book publishers. Since then we've printed over 50,000 copies of this popular book. The Weeping Woman (as she's known in English) has been such a steady seller that we can truly say Cinco Puntos is the (publishing) house that La Llorona built. We've also published three more books by Joe, including this latest Tell Me A Cuento.

I think our daughter, Susannah Mississippi Byrd, who now works for Cinco Puntos, describes Joe best in her introduction to Here Comes the Storyteller. Susie writes: Joe Hayes, a tall man, sits on a stool surrounded by kids spread out on the floor like a blanket. He seems gigantic in their midst. They are silent, intent, some with their chins resting on their arms. Their eyes are fixed upward on Joe's face. They don't want to miss a thing.

Joe explains that there's been a drought in the desert, and the locust and the frog gave decided to add their rain songs together so that the Rain goad can hear them. Joe pulls his arms up and settles them in a sprawling position. He shuts his eyes and in a gravely voice he croaks "R-R-R-Rain..." He pauses, his eyes pop open, he takes a breath, and again, "R-R-R-Rain..."

The children, eyes wide, watch the frog sing. Some giggle, flashing silent looks of pleasure to their friends.

Then it is the locust's turn. Joe clasps his large hands around an imaginary branch, bows his head, and sings in a high screechy voice, "R-r-r-rain-n-n-n..." and then again "R-r-r-rain-n-n-n..." Joe tells the children that when other frogs and locusts heard the song, they decided to add their voices also. The children are sure that his will bring the rain. But Joe says, "Oh, no. I'm stuck. Maybe I shouldn't have started this story. I can't sound like all those frogs and locusts at the same time.

I have been lucky enough to hear Joe Hayes tell stories since I was a young child. Now that I have grown and a mother myself, I still find myself captured by the presence that Joe brings to each story. In a time when we worry about the short attention spans of our children, it is absolutely magical to see the energy and attention with which children honor a master storyteller.

Joe understands that to tell a story is to develop a relationship with the listener. A story is an invitation, a way to share the imaginary characters that populate folklore. In putting together this book, we wanted the readers to learn about sharing stories. A told story doesn't have to be "this is my story, listen to me tell it." It can be told in such a way that the story belongs to each listener.

That's a secret.

To share this secret, we wanted to bring more of Joe to this book-the way that he interacts with his audience, his dramatic gestures, the silly faces he makes, and most importantly, his love for sharing stories. We wanted our readers to know that storytelling is magic, and it is a magic not just for use by master storytellers. The art of storytelling is for kids, parents and teachers alike.

So we took pictures of Joe while he was telling stories. We asked him to give some insight into the way that he tells each story. And of course, we asked him to bring the stories that he is famous for-stories full of the marvelous characters that inhabit this special place we call the Southwest.

Knowing that they must help Joe if the Rain God is to hear the song, the children imitate Joe's frog and sing, "R-R-R-Rain..." Then they add Locust's song:

"R-r-r-rain-n-n-n..."

Again and again they sing.

Joe says, "It was a loud song! It went clear to the top of the mountain. The Rain God heard the song."

Together the children and Joe gather the dark clouds and the wind. They bring the storm. The children smile, proud that they helped the rain to fall.

Joe adds, "And that's why it is that to this day, if one person's fields are dry and dying, he doesn't go off by himself to sing for rain. But all the people gather together. They dance with one heart, and with one voice they sing. And in that way they can always bring the rain." The children nod knowingly Without their help Joe couldn't have finished the story and the rain might never have come.

Joe's stories teach us that anything can happen in a good story.

Listeners always ask me about my stories, "How do you remember all that?" I tell them that the parts of a story are like the verses of a song. Once you've thought a story through, and have the events fixed in your mind, you start telling it, first to yourself, and then to many audiences. And the story settles into your brain just the way the lyrics of an old familiar song do. Then, even though you haven't thought about the story for a long time, once you start telling it, each line rises spontaneously in your mind, ready to be spoken at the appropriate time. In fact, the whole process of telling stories is much more like singing songs than giving a speech. And storytelling has the same ability to lift your spirits that singing has.

The written stories in Here Comes the Storyteller are very close to my actual tellings, but the spoken versions are somewhat looser. For example, when I tell the story, several paragraphs of printed material might all be strung together with and's as one long sentence. The oral version can be less specific. For instance, when I introduce the frog's song in "Rain," I simply say, "He sang like this." I don't need to say, "He croaked," because the listeners are about to hear how he sings.