Tales from a(nother) Minnesota raconteur

Kevin Kling wants to fill you in on his life-threatening, life-affirming motorcycle accident.

But wait, wait! First he wants to tell you about his wacky Uncle Johnny, who "smells all the roses all the time."

And just a gosh darn minute there! There's this other story about a guy named Marty, who woke up from a coma, loved his wife more than ever, and planted a field of sunflowers.

But hold the phone ... Don't you want to hear about the homegrown carnival Kling produced as a kid?

Stories, stories, Kling's got stories. In his endearing-if-unwieldy new piece "How? How? Why? Why? Why?," now premiering at Seattle Repertory Theatre, the tales from this Minnesota raconteur tumble forth like marbles spilling out of a velveteen pouch. Some are bright and shiny, others dark and mottled.

All are clearly cherished by their collector, a lanky fellow with horn-rimmed glasses and an easy grin.

But in this first run, staged by Rep artistic director (and native Minnesotan) David Esbjornson, there's maybe too much material for a one-act, 90-minute show — which also includes musical interludes by Kling's puckish sidekick, singer-accordion player Simone Perrin.

Kling does have a lot on his mind. Big stuff: life, death, disability, play dough. And his stories are burnished with a novelist's flair for ironic detail, a literary classicist's insight, and a classic Minnesota twang.

On a stage adorned with such trappings of Midwestern Americana as an overstuffed easy chair, a Formica table and a red wagon, Kling spins yarns. And Perrin yodel-sings tunes ranging from country blues songs to "Leader of the Pack."

A National Public Radio contributor as well as a playwright-performer, Kling is a humorist in the genially anthropological vein of Jean Shepherd, David Sedaris and fellow Minnesotan Garrison Keillor.

And like his peers, he seems to have total recall (with creative embellishments) of his childhood — in Kling's case, a Midwestern, rural, baby-boomer edition, packed with colorful relatives and Tom Sawyer-ish pranks.

But if Kling's monologues go on a bit longer than necessary — and teeter on the border of preciousness at times — they are never generic or cloying.

He talks easily about dealing with a birth defect, a malformed arm with limited dexterity, and cheerfully demystifies the "disability" label.

Describing that backyard carnival, he even re-enacts, with delight, turning himself into a sideshow exhibit: Dolphin Boy.

And narrating the aftermath of his motorcycle crash, and the severe injuries that left his "normal" arm useless, he never makes the show a pity party.

"How? How? Why? Why? Why?" (the title is the punch line of a hard-to-summarize joke) is entertaining in its rambling first half. But it's strongest when Kling astutely explores the differences between being cured and healed, the gap between life and death and the necessity of love.

Invoking Frankenstein's monster, Shakespeare's "Richard III," and the journeys of Dante and Orpheus in the underworld, Kling is a folksy, insightful mythologist. And he movingly ponders how physical damage can lead to psychic warping. Or, in his case, to gratitude and humility.

The latter is what Kling leaves you with, and it's a gift. If he told us a bit less about Uncle Johnny and Marty — and a bit more about what angels or demons led him to risk his neck on that motorcycle — it might be even better.

Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com