May 31, 2016

Susie Orbach and Jeanette Winterson Pop Up at AWF 2016

8:56 PM: The nice helper at the after-hours ticket outlet aka Festival Information Desk is holding the last two tickets to Jeanette Winterson and Susie Orbach’s Pop-up session, cash only, hoorah, I’ve got the cash, and we’re off with minutes to spare, slaloming around a few clumps of festival goers enjoying their Bill Oddie afterglow, just enough time to grab a wine, and, what’s this? The bar is closed! What?

No no, someone says, the bar is IN the room, and points the way. Swerve, final stretch, we push open the doors, and there it is -- the bar, and a room bursting with women (okay I guess there were a couple of men). The widest range of hair colours ever yet seen at an AWF session, reds of all shades, white, blond, black, a variety of hats, all stylish, one shawl with a baby being marsupialled in it. Two front row seats for us and our wines, just behind some happy couples ensconced on double beanbags which have been laid out in the space between the dais and us, heightening my feeling that we’re taking part in a giant slumber party, about to call the radio station to request our favourite songs, all through the night. The buzz is palpable.

It’s time. Our Miss Clavel appears and it’s Festival director Anne O’Brien in person, and you can see right away she’s not going to tell us to go to sleep, she’s exhilirated too, presenting Jeanette Winterson, author and memoirist (Oranges are not the only fruit), and Susie Orbach, psychotherapist (most famously to Lady Diana) and writer (Fat is a feminist issue), together since 2010 and soon to celebrate their first anniversary as a married couple, ready to riff tonight on the theme of madness and creativity.

Once the wild applause fades,  the first thing -- and the second -- they do is ask for the lights to brought up so they can see us. They want to see us! How many guests from their places on the stage have mumbled about how they can't see anyone but who ever asked -- twice -- for the lights to be brought up?

“How many people here think of themselves as creative? Raise your hands!” Winterson throws out. Hands everywhere you look.

“How many people here think of themselves as crazy?” Almost as many.

“Creativity is our birthright as human beings" she pronounces. "Every child is born creative and then we knock it out of them. Not everyone will be an artist but we’re all involved in the creative response.”

“It’s interesting you say that because I’m not sure I agree,” responds Orbach calmly, in the first of several instances of endearing married couple-style banter, mentioning "Winnicott’s theory" that creativity is born of babies searching for a relationship with their mother.

“Yes”, Winterson concedes, it’s clearly about relationships, “not the the lone white male they want you to believe.” But who is to say which relationships? “The thing about artists is you can’t trust them, you have to trust the work. I’ve always thought a creative work is first and foremost a lie detector.” Her “autobiographical” novel Oranges are not the only fruit comes to mind, the one of which she once said, “I wrote a story I could live with. The other one was too painful”.

She wonders how we are doing, could we see them well enough, considering that we are going to be spending an hour together, and invites Orbach to join her in perching on the backrest of the ottoman instead of sitting on its seat. Marvellously, they suddenly go from being talking heads to being individuals in flesh and blood, Winterson looking a bit like a mischievous chimney sweep in her black stovepipe-ish jeans, shirt and leather shoes with stitching around the toes which managed to suggest a certain elfin upturning, and Orbach like a sexy Parisian concierge with her black silk chemisier and skirt, and head of untidy curls.

The role of anxiousness is touched on, with Orbach describing the psychoanalyst’s “50 minute hour” as a place of both anxiety and extraordinary creativity. Winterson agrees, replying eloquently, “What is home? Where do I belong? What is my culture? These massive questions: the creativity we make is a sort of an answer”. And, “It’s not just a personal answering, it’s a gift -- we want it to enter into other people.”

“Why do we get so damn scared?” Orbach asks, turning to the question of bravery, of daring.

Winterson talks of when she was writing Why be happy when you could be normal, and how the question emerged for her of how much to reveal. In the end, she says, you need to find the "place you have to access in order to do the work you have to do”.

“In my generation,” says Orbach, who will turn seventy next year (Winterson is in her fifties), “daring to express yourself sent women into breakdowns”.

Something creative people must have, agrees Winterson, is enough confidence to risk bringing out another part of themselves. “Often what we call creativity is recklessness or ruthlessness,” she acknowledges.

Towards the end, they reminisce about their youth. “The search I was in could have led to depression or psychosis but the women’s liberation movement came along,” says Susie Orbach. “That’s how I got out of being crazy” -- not counting the craziness of youth, of course!

On Winterson's part, even with the hard childhood she’d had, locked repeatedly in the coal cellar for punishment by her missionary adoptive mother, not allowed to have books at home (she hid them under her mattress, where her mother found them and burned them), she has something almost romantic to say about the escape route she had created. “My best friends were dead. When I needed them I went and got them off the shelves of the public library.” And launches into an effusive description of a chance reading of TS Eliot on the library steps, aged 16, as Orbach smiles benignly. Generously. "I think that's wonderful," she says.

Kiwi author Joanne Drayton, another brave front-rower sitting a few seats down from us, asks if they think creative opportunities are diminishing in today's world.

Orbach allows as how she thinks there’s been a democratisation of creativity, even as we live under an economic structure that dictates where we are to find satisfaction. Although the first of those postulates could be seen as positive (and in fact Winterson is enthusiastic about the idea of democratisation and takes it as a sign that things are improving), she can't however ignore the alarming fact that 24 million people follow someone on youtube who shows you how to make yourself up so you look like Barbie.

Yes, says Winterson, “The best and the worst is now visible, it’s in your face all the time”. But, she concludes, “I’m optimistic, I think people will sort it out.”

Sometimes I feel that way and sometimes not. And I have to wonder if, brainy as she is, that isn’t true for Jeanette Winterson too. But right then, there was no doubt that she was speaking from her heart. That was what was so wonderful about the evening: the standing up (or perching on a backrest) for spontaneity, in a medium like the literary festival circuit where spontaneity is regrettably, if perhaps inevitably, in short supply.

As I’m writing, all I can think is how glad I am I got to see them like this, in their own orchestration, turning a crowd of curious admirers into friends for the hour, rather than watching a film of them walking around the Auckland Art Gallery peering at creative works and dropping bon mots about creativity as some guy from TV3 followed them around with a videocamera, as I chanced to see a short clip of. Actually, I couldn't have seen more if I'd wanted to, as it was on the Auckland Art Gallery's facebook page, and as I'm not a facebook user, the view was obscured by a banner inviting me to join facebook today.

What a happy privilege to have had the Orbach-Winterson experience live and off the network!


May 30, 2016

Paul Muldoon at AWF 2016: A poet worth knowing

In which Simon from Central City Library tells us about going to see poet Paul Muldoon, and the adroit adjective 'Eliotic' makes its first appearance in Books in the City:

The Writers Festival session "One thousand things worth knowing" featured acclaimed US-based Irish poet Paul Muldoon speaking about his career and artistry with our own C.K. Stead. Muldoon, a poet who enjoys a critical standing up there with the likes of Seamus Heaney (not to mention being a Professor at Princeton University and poetry editor at The New Yorker), was a warm and eloquent speaker. He read wonderfully and spoke with humour and grace. Stead is clearly less of a natural public speaker, (to be fair, he was a late stand-in for Bill Manhire), but knew Muldoon's work and antecedents more than well enough to help facilitate an interesting discussion.

The conversation begun with talk of formative influences. Aside from the impact of the immediacy necessary in radio, impressed upon him during his time working for the BBC, Muldoon admitted early poetic efforts also involved trying to "follow Eliot", which had often resulted in poetry that was "Eliotic."

In contrast, being an Irish poet, Muldoon had found it necessary to "work around" Yeats rather than aspire to, let alone compete with, his greatness. Stead expressed surprise that Yeats had not been mentioned more in the prior ‘From 1916 to Here’ festival event which Muldoon had been part of. Muldoon pointed out the irony that historical events after the fact had helped imbue a poem like Yeats’s “Easter 1916” with its verisimilitude. The British shooting of insurrectionists during the Easter Rising had in fact only happened after Yeats had composed the poem and not the other way round.

Even if he had begun as one of many Eliot acolytes, it was not the Eliotic that Muldoon was shooting for. Rather, he hoped he might induce an "electric shock" for the reader, or as Stead put it, "a kick in the behind." Muldoon elaborated that if the process of composing the poem is unexpected for the writer, this increases the likelihood that a similar shift, whether seismic or minor, will occur for the reader.

"If I know what I'm doing then everyone else will know too. . . If I don't know what I'm doing, there's a chance others will be surprised."

Further building on this contention, Muldoon went so far as to dismiss the "write about what you know" creative writing tenet.

Despite wanting to cause this shift in the reader, Muldoon was uncertain of the effect poetry might have on the world at large. He hoped it might do some good, and could see a world in which art took over the role of organised religion.

Muldoon read poems such as ‘Honey’ from his new volume One Thousand Things Worth Knowing, and older poems such as ‘Saffron’ and ‘Why Brownlee Left’. Muldoon contended ‘Honey’ was the type of poem which seemed to ask of itself: “Is this a poem at all?” The answer “Not much” was one Muldoon felt the culture of poetry as a whole should be more comfortable with. He read with a gentle determination that seemed perfectly in keeping with the tone of the poems.

A brief QnA session elicited charming and self-deprecating responses from Muldoon. When asked if he really felt he could “write about Saffron forever”, Muldoon said he felt that “subject matter” was irrelevant – that the whole world could be seen through the prism of something as seemingly minor as saffron. A second audience member enquired about what books had spoken to Muldoon in his youth. Stevenson’s Treasure Island as it turns out. “If I could write a book like Treasure Island, I wouldn’t bother with this stuff.”

-- Simon 

Xu Zhiyuan at AWF 2016: Inside the real China

Simonne from Central City Library went to hear "cultural phenomenon" Xu Zhiyuan and came away with a lot to think about... and to tell us!


Xu Zhiyuan, named by Ai Wei Wei “the most important Chinese intellectual of his time”, did not disappoint. Journalist, editor and author, his latest book Paper Tiger is a collection of his journalism written over the last seven years. The Sunday morning session with interviewer Jeremy Rose was certainly challenging, requiring intense concentration to digest all he was saying in his strongly accented English.

Opening with a discussion of the looming 50th Anniversary of the Cultural Revolution, we get the first of many indications that what is commonly known and discussed in the West is, in contrast, just not talked about in China. The Anniversary is a taboo subject; discussion could reveal flaws so discussion is not condoned.

It is Xu’s opinion that the Cultural Revolution, wherein Chairman Mao tried to impose a totalitarian system into every facet of Chinese life, poisoned the country. The economic and political reforms of the past thirty years had largely reversed this position, but with significant income inequality and a slowing economy causing widespread uncertainty and insecurity, there seems now to be a nostalgia among many for the totalitarianism of the past.

There is however, in Xu’s circles, resistance to State control, and in 2006 Xu co-founded a bookshop in Beijing called One Way Street Library. Mirroring the likes of Shakespeare and Company in Paris, and City Lights in San Francisco, One Way Street (now called OWspace with three branches in Beijing and more to follow in other cities) hosts regular salons. These events, often led by well-known authors and artists, are aimed at stimulating conversations about topics relevant to today’s world.

Interestingly, he has never been harassed by the authorities but is very aware that what could be discussed four years ago is off the agenda now. Present day bookstore discussions revolve around the arts, whereas they would once have included hearty political debates.

This censorship, Xu tells us, is not laid down anywhere; there are no clear boundaries or guidelines – what may be acceptable one day may get you arrested the next. He shares a chilling metaphor of a snake wound around a chandelier. The shadow cast by the snake ensures you are always aware of its presence but most of the time it stays in position while you go about your daily life. However, it can strike at any time; you will have no warning and it will be fatal. It is this unpredictability which is so disempowering.

When asked about internationally acclaimed artist and strident political activist Ai Wei Wei’s release from prison Xu offers a few theories:

- Perhaps he was released as a result of both international and local pressure – he has rock star status in China.

- His use of social media (he has been hugely active on Sina Weibo, China’s biggest internet platform and more lately on Twitter) has ensured a widespread public profile.

- Perhaps his strength of character helped to sustain him throughout his imprisonment; he is of an earlier generation, who grew up in the Cultural Revolution and are consequently tougher than Xu’s generation and those following.

Again, the uncertainty, the lack of consistency, the ever-shifting ground is made obvious in Xu’s lack of clarity. The poet Liu Xiaobo, awarded the 2010 Nobel Peace Prize for “his long and non-violent struggle for fundamental human rights in China” while incarcerated, is still in prison today. Although internationally acclaimed, the tight media controls ensure Liu’s achievements are known by few in China (his name is censored). It becomes clearer as the session continues that the Chinese authorities today are influenced by popular opinion but they carefully control what the public knows.

China’s leaders know only too well how the general populace love to see an official or chief executive jailed for corruption; their collective morality is outraged that such people set themselves above the rest of society. Consequently, panaceas such as the Anti-Corruption Drive are offered to the people to serve as distractions, shifting focus from the real issues facing China. An independent legal system, the freedom of the press, human rights, freedom of speech and the right to make personal choices; these, Xu tells us, are the fundamental pillars of a healthy society but they do not exist in today’s China.

The next topic, China’s one child policy, casts more light on the mind-set of the post Cultural Revolution generations. Initially introduced in 1978 as a purely physical solution to the burgeoning population issue, it was made possible by a citizenry well accustomed to totalitarian edicts and terrified by the consequences of not abiding. Aside from the horrors of sex-selected abortion, abandonment and infanticide, and the now skewed male/female balance, Xu tells us of the unexpected social psychology phenomenon which has developed as a direct result of this policy. The two generations since, born as “only” children, have never had the balancing influence of siblings to toughen them up and ensure they recognise their place as part of a whole (the family) and not the epicentre. Commonly referred to as “little emperors”, many are, according to Xu, “self-centred, narcissistic, over-protected, narrow minded and ruthless”. They want only to protect their lifestyle so the enticing distractions consumerism offers, along with a fear of reprisal, ensures they will not make a fuss when a fellow countryman who dared to speak out about an injustice is imprisoned.

However, it is not only Chinese disinterest that is to blame for the human rights abuses. Western leaders have in the past, when Communism was a dirty word, spoken out strongly against such abuses but now that China is a super power their tune has changed. Today’s Western leaders want a chunk of that phenomenal growth and so conveniently refrain from noticing that which may require criticism.

Still, despite such bleak days, Xu is optimistic that many of the new generation are more enlightened and he lives in hope that China can do beautiful things again as they have for thousands of years before.

And so the session ended but over the weeks following I have found myself returning to my notes again and again to ponder what he said. Surely, the sign of a great event!

-- Simonne Le Masurier

May 24, 2016

Carmen Aguirre at AWF 2016: "Mexican Hooker #1"

Amber from Parnell Library tells us about discovering Carmen Aguirre and why she thinks you should too:

Are you put off by the title Mexican Hooker #1? If you are, you shouldn’t feel alone – it was a feeling I came across in more than one person whilst mutually flicking through the Auckland Writers Festival programme. While you shouldn’t feel alone, you should probably feel regretful, though, because this stiffness likely kept you from encountering the almost disconcertingly interesting Ms. Carmen Aguirre.

Often the first thing you will learn about Carmen Aguirre is that at a young age she was raped – it is unpleasant, it is painful to read about, painful to think about. It seemed confusing to people I encountered -- to give a book concerning your most abject memories a name so blunt, so tongue in cheek, so tacky, even. What is she thinking, a rape victim, referring to the sex industry in such a cavalier manner?? Perhaps those people are uncomfortable confronting their own misgivings about the differences between rape and sex. Fair enough.

However, you needn’t be uncomfortable, because Carmen definitely isn’t. She is incredibly matter of fact, pastoral even, as she relates to you her experiences with a diverse range of violence. In an hour with Carmen Aguirre, a person previously unfamiliar with her work (ie, me) will learn that she is a woman who has lived a life unimaginable to some (ie, most New Zealanders). A political refugee under Pinochet’s regime from the age of six (her family relocated to Canada) and a member of the Chilean resistance from 18, Aguirre’s life was always going to feature danger, trauma and the processes of “healing” – whatever that might be and however it would come about.

For Aguirre, theatrical training precipitated this healing process, and Mexican Hooker #1 is an account of the dual experiences of becoming an actor (a very early calling) and being propelled into the therapeutic work of reconfronting and reappraising her rape. Aguirre travels to meet her rapist, the infamous John Horace Oughton, a kind of ‘bogeyman’ figure in the Canadian cultural landscape known as the ‘Paper Bag Rapist’, and for many this begs some questions, mainly, "Why?" If you’ve read any recent coverage of Aguirre’s book, you will likely know her answer – “Because I’d like to meet the man I’ve been in a relationship with for my entire life.”

Her answer encapsulates what is so fascinating about her life, her holistic and realistic attitude towards her experiences, and what is so brilliant about her title. Mexican Hooker #1 is a title that Aguirre says she had to fight her editors for, and I was happy to hear that because I love it. Aguirre sums it up with candor: the title is what it is because she literally played a character named “Mexican Hooker #1”, because she found herself completely and utterly typecast with no roles for women of colour on stage or television other than those very similar to ‘Mexican Hooker #1’, and lastly, heartbreakingly, because when she was raped at 13, her rapist called her ‘hooker’ repeatedly.

If you think it all sounds a bit heavy, and are expecting an incredibly morose autobiographical depiction of a tarnished life, absolutely don’t. As well as being matter of fact, Carmen Aguirre is hilarious, and my favourite moment was her quip about those who write for catharsis, “If you are writing for catharsis, you are not writing – you are masturbating”. Her language was rather more colourful, but you get the idea. I happen to completely agree, and at that moment I fell in love with her.

So yes, it is ‘heavy’ but don’t worry -- she is not writing for catharsis, she is not gunning to make you cry. Aguirre’s story is also impressive, entertaining, and very true. Aguirre referred to herself as ‘a person who writes plays for brown people’ and recognition of the purposeful, material value of her work is important. She says (I’m probably misquoting, but never mind) that her parents always told her that if you are not working for your community, then you are not working in the right way. But while her story, and her writing, is important for victims of sexual assault, for women of colour, for actresses, for refugees, it is valuable to anyone. And if you're not intrigued by a woman who was part of a revolutionary movement and who can make you cackle within the context of confronting the issue of rape, then I wouldn't know what to offer you.

You can, and really should, read Mexican Hooker #1 and Aguirre's first book, Something Fierce.


May 23, 2016

Patrick Evans at AWF 2016: "The literary club"

Maria Mitenkova from the Readers Services team at Central Library reads and studies New Zealand literature, and this wonderful session chaired by Kate De Goldi was her first -- and singularly wise -- choice from the Festival line-up. Here's her report:

Prior to this session, I only knew Patrick Evans for his scholarly work. I might have read a couple of his articles on Janet Frame, and I liked his The Long Forgetting: Post-colonial literary culture in New Zealand, a must-read for the paper on New Zealand Literature I took last semester at Auckland University.

Despite the common stereotype of academics, that they cannot write, there have been enough examples of scholars engaged in writing fiction, and I’m sure a few of them have even done well. For this reason, I was not too surprised to learn that Emeritus Professor Patrick Evans, who taught New Zealand Literature at the University of Canterbury for 46 years, is also an author of novels and plays. It might even be fun and entertaining, I thought, remembering his academic texts as notably accessible and not at all dry or tedious.

It was fun, indeed. The audience could not help but laugh as Patrick Evans read an abstract from his fourth novel The back of his head, a hilarious and troubling satire on literary fame featuring "a white male author behaving badly". Critics have regarded the book as “nasty funny”, the author said modestly but with dignity. As in his fiction, he was smart and funny in his talk, so that the atmosphere of the session quickly livened up.

I really liked his dry intelligent jokes with a blank expressionless face. Especially the ones that I got. As often happens with deadpan humour, at times it is hard to say if the speaker is being serious or not. He is a great storyteller, I thought. His lectures must have been fantastic. Lucky students!

Meanwhile, Patrick Evans seems to be happier outside of academia, enjoying the spare time he can finally devote to his fiction. “An academic career prevents writing”, he smirked in answer to the question on wearing the hats of both a writer and scholar. “University work is stressful, demanding and exhausting, so you cannot really do much.”

When asked to comment on modern New Zealand literature, Patrick Evans said he wished local novels were less middle-class and more based on New Zealand literary tradition. Why should a novel be nice? Why should a character be likeable? Why does one need to get pleasure from reading? What if there is no happy ending?

He encouraged New Zealand authors to be braver in their writing and push the boundaries of what is moral by saying yes to wild, crazy, wonderful stuff. “How do you get people to read such texts?” was a question from the audience. “People’s minds have to be changed”, he replied authoritatively, “their reading habits need to be reassessed.”

Feeling absolutely thrilled after the talk, I immediately bought Patrick Evans's third and possibly most acclaimed novel, The gifted, which, I learned, is loosely based on Frank Sargeson and Janet Frame, two New Zealand classics whose fiction and life stories have both excited me hugely since long ago.

It took me a while to make my way to the author to get the book signed. Not because of a long queue; rather, it was the time Patrick Evans spent talking to each of his readers. I was fully rewarded when he talked to me just as much, quietly responding to my praise of his scholarly work with the same serious face and a wry intelligent smile.

-- Maria

May 20, 2016

Jane Smiley at AWF 2016: "A life's work"

Liz from Regional Collections made a long-time good intention into a reality when she went to hear Jane Smiley, and she was not disappointed. Exactly the opposite! Here she tells us about why:

I first heard Jane Smiley talk on the BBC World Service Book Club discussing her Pulitzer Prize- winning A Thousand Acres, a version of the King Lear story set in Iowa. I’ve been meaning to read it ever since, but as is so often the way, never got around to it. I jumped at the chance to hear her in person at the Writers Festival, and thought I’d better make a start on reading at least one of her works, if there were any available with the Festival fast approaching. Saved by an e-book, by the time her session came round I was well immersed in the life of Iowa farmers in the 1920s, as depicted in Some Luck, the first book in her ongoing "Last One Hundred Years" trilogy.

Jane Smiley is tall – “you should see me in my 2 inch heels” she said, but the thing that caught my eye was the somewhat retro jumper she was wearing. It turned out that she had knitted it herself, using what she said was a typically Iowan product – knitting wool made out of soy husks. Her wide-ranging literary output includes among other things, an essay on knitting, "Why Bother?", in Knitting Yarns: Writers on Knitting.

Interviewed by Paula Morris, Jane Smiley gave us many fascinating insights both about her personal life and also about reading, writing and the novel. It is tempting to try to list them all, but that would not capture the wry, laconic delivery that made her so entertaining.

Paula Morris’s praise of Smiley’s Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Novel led to a discussion of the role of the novel. Smiley said one of the things she truly loved about the novel is the sense of freedom it gives -- “The more novels you read, the greater your inner life is…. you are more likely to think for yourself, and less likely to follow others”. She saw Richardson’s Pamela as a breakthrough work because it gave women a voice for the first time.

"One Hundred Years" has a large cast of characters and the story is told from a variety of points of view. In answering the question of how she managed to achieve these many voices, Smiley said she belonged to a large gossipy family, and there was nothing she and her siblings liked better than getting her aunts and uncles to tell stories of their childhood. Each would tell the stories from a different perspective – “No,that’s not how it happened - it really happened this way… ” and would also have their own theories on what made others in the family tick. “Your mother always thinks that….” Smiley saw this environment, where the description of an event changed with the storyteller, as a natural upbringing of a novelist.

While she thought listening was the first step in being a story-teller, she felt the first step in becoming a novelist was reading. However, for her the motivation to write came from her insatiable curiosity to find out why things happened the way they did. Only one of her 60 books was written from her own experience (presumably Moo, the novel set in an American university in the midwest). The rest cover a staggering range of subjects and styles – a novel about medieval Greenland, Horse heaven, set in the world of horse racing, young adult novels and a number of non-fiction works including The Man Who Invented the Computer: The Biography of John Atanasof.
The extent of her love of “finding out things” is revealed by her praise for a weather site which gives a hundred years of daily weather readings for the Midwest. Just the thing you need if you are writing a year by year account of farming life in Iowa.

Jane finished her session with a reading from Golden Age, letting us hear the voices of the modern day members of that Iowa farming family. It was evident from her reading how much she loved her characters, with all their quirks and flaws.

If, like me, you haven’t quite got round to reading something by Jane Smiley, don’t put it off anymore. You are bound to find something in her prodigious range that you will enjoy. And if you don’t like the way the author thinks, you have the freedom, as Jane advocates, to quietly put the book aside, and leave it.

-- Liz

May 19, 2016

Michael Grant at AWF 2016: Front Lines

Chelsea from Central City Library tells us about getting to hear one of her favourite writers of all time at the Writers Festival, and taking a turn at the mike! 

Whilst I sat waiting for Michael Grant’s session I eavesdropped on two older women sitting next to me. The one closest to me was asking her friend who they were seeing, with the reply being, straight from the festival programme, "Michael Grant who has written over 150 books for children and young adults". Part of me was so pleased that these women were taking a chance on an author they didn’t know but another part of me wanted to sit them down in a corner with Gone for a few hours so they could see what they’d been missing. Grant then came in, a suave man with a cool American accent, who immediately made a joke about his glass of water being vodka. I decided this was going to be a great session. 

After a brief introduction from Jane Higgins, reading reviews of Grant’s books, the emotive book trailer for Front Lines was played. Against a backdrop of images of war a girl’s voice is telling us why women enlisted, that they were not heroes, they were cold and scared and just doing their part. This is the premise of Grant’s latest young adult novel, an alternative history where women are allowed to enlist for World War II.

Higgins asked Grant what drove him to write Front Lines to which Grant answered, rather honestly, that one reason is marketing. There’s a market for strong female characters but he was tired of the dystopia genre so wanted to move beyond that. His second reason is that he cares a lot about history even though he comes ‘from a country indifferent to learning anything from history’. Grant has a healthy cynicism for American politics but it is also clear that he is very knowledgeable. He explains his research process of reading books on WWII, visiting museums, going inside submarines to get a feel for them and even shooting guns in Las Vegas. Grant is funny, with jokes for both the teenagers and adults in the audience. Such as ‘spoiler alert: the Nazis lose’ and joking that America got into WWII late when it was still possible to make money off it.

Despite the violence in Grant’s books he actually doesn’t approve of guns. He told an animated story of how he bought a gun as a young man because he was convinced that a man who had beaten him up was going to kill him. However upon showing the gun to his family he accidently blew a hole in the floor, not realising that the gun was loaded. This shocked Grant, realising that he could have accidently shot a family member, so much that he traded the gun for a camera and never looked back. In his books however Grant doesn’t shy away from real action and violence, starting from 'Animorphs' up till his more recent series. He explains that he’ll write so ‘you hear the bones cracking’ which elicits an audible gasp from the woman next to me. I sincerely hope that she isn’t regretting her decision to see Grant.

Grant also touches on his 'Gone' series, explaining in a nutshell that it’s about a small town that one day has a dome appear over it and all those over 15 years old have disappeared. You can imagine the chaos that ensues. It is not that unlike ‘Under the Dome’ except that Grant wrote ‘Gone’ first. Grant says he’s been criticised for having such young characters do awful things but he says it’s because ‘an 11 year old with a gun and vodka is scary. If they were 18 it’d just be another night in LA’. When asked why he kills off characters he explains that his characters are his employees and sometimes they’re just not performing. He also says that he needs to be realistic, that you can’t make an omelette without breaking an egg. I really appreciate his honesty here and his fantastic metaphors. Super fans will be pleased to hear that Grant is working on a new book set in the ‘Gone’ universe and that there will be some characters who cross over into this new book.

Finally comes question time and I make my way over to the microphone, even though I am sweating buckets. I thank him for writing books that I can recommend to teenagers, and especially boys, in the library. I then ask him what young adult books he would recommend. Grant replies that he actually steers away from young adult books as he doesn’t want them to affect his writing but he does recommend the author Andrew Smith. He then gives some lovely praise to his wife Katherine Applegate, whom he challenged to win the Newberry Medal. She did with her 2012 book The One and Only Ivan. As I sit back down the woman next to me tells me ‘Great question, well done’ and I decide that I quite like her. The session wraps up and upon leaving I see Grant signing books and chatting to teens and I think what a cool and intelligent role model he must be for them.

-- Chelsea

Janna Levin at AWF 2016: Gravitational Sensations

Looks like Gareth from Digital Services did well in his choice of AWF session -- and also in writing it up for us! Here's his definitely not-boring post:

Janna Levin's talk was a nice break from the usual panel discussions and one-on-one interviews that customarily fill up the schedule of a book festival. Instead she presented an audience-friendly lecture on modern physics - in particular the recent breakthrough recording of gravitational waves washing over the planet earth from the collision of two black holes in a distant galaxy.

Sound boring? Fortunately it wasn't, since Levin chose her metaphors wisely and had plenty of video clips to bring her monologue to life. Though you might have to excuse my ignorance as I breeze over the highlights of her talk (without much knowledge of physics to back me up!).

Levin spent the first half of the lecture just trying to open up the audience's mind to what gravity actually involves. Rather than being an all-powerful force that holds us to the ground, she asked us to imagine first that our natural state was weightlessness - it was actually the objects in our way (the ground beneath our feet) which stopped us drifting in one direction or another. To illustrate this point, she played a segment of an OK Go music video, which was filmed on an airplane in free-fall, allowing the band to move about in weightless suspension:

It was nice to have moments of levity like this, though her point was more subtle - she was gradually building a picture in our minds of Einstein's view of physics, which portrays gravity as curves in space-time that gradually pull on our otherwise weightless position. Hence, if you are in an airplane traveling at the same speed as this pull, you achieve the zero gravity as in the video above.

All this was a nice prelude to the actual subject of her talk - the scientific attempt to record the gravitational waves that hold us down - a subject covered in more detail in her book, Black Hole Blues and other Songs From Outer Space. It follows the path from Einstein's first theory of gravity through to the creation of one of the world's most sensitive scientific measurement instruments, which was created specifically to test one of the predictions of the theory. In particular, Einstein's theory suggested that a large enough cataclysm in the universe might cause a ripple big enough to "pluck" the gravitational curves that cross over our own planet.

In order to record such an event, scientists created LIGO - a four-kilometre long section of concrete pipe, with lasers running between tiny mirrors at each end, which would then be able to track a movement in the earth's gravitational field. In fact, there were two sister sites - each on opposite coasts of the US, so any instantaneous changes could be detected. The price tag? A cool US$620 million!

Fortunately they actually achieved their goal late last year and announced their finding in February of this year! You can hear their result in the following little clip - a fairly unassuming little sound for all the build up Levin had given it!

What is possibly more interesting to the lay reader is the personal stories of the scientists who made this discovery possible. The first idea for this experiment came in the fifties and it has taken decades of argument to convince the wider scientific field that such an experiment was useful or even likely.
Levin has the skill to interweave the science and the story of the scientists together in a way that is very approachable to a general audience and hence her talk made me very keen to check out one of her many books.

It was great to see that she also had quite some skills at handling left-field questions from the audience. In the midst of a run of serious questioners, one chap stood up and asked how it was that a beautiful woman such as herself decided to get into the unusual career of astrophysicist.

There were jeers from the audience, but Levin simply smiled and said that it was better that such ideas were brought out into the open, given that some members of our society do believe that a women's main goal is to be beautiful. In contrast, she said her parents were feminists and that she therefore didn't believe in such a goal from the outset. Her response was a final display of her sharp intelligence, which is able to cut through to the truth of the matter no matter how complicated or how banal!

-- Gareth

May 18, 2016

Fiona Farrell, Brian Turner and Joe Bennett in "Another country?" at AWF 2016

Is the South Island "another country"? Carolyn from Regional Collections knew there would be no one answer from the panellists at the eponymous AWF session, but also that all the answers would be interesting. She tells us about them here:

Brian Turner (photo: Declan Wong)
I joined the long queue of people waiting to hear Fiona Farrell, Brian Turner and Joe Bennett talk about what it is like being a South Islander in a country where they are a minority (only 23% of the population) with some trepidation - I was born and bred in Auckland, but know from living in Hamilton for 12 years that Aucklanders are often the butt of cruel jokes from those living south of the Bombay Hills, let alone the Mainland. However, I was eager to attend, largely due to a long-standing respect and love for the artistry and intelligence of Southern wordsmiths and artists. Moreover, as a teenager I found refuge, enlightenment and entertainment in the works of many Te Wai Pounamu writers including Ruth Dallas, Keri Hulme, Owen Marshall and Janet Frame.

The session commenced with a brief introduction by the chair, Jesse Mulligan (a Hamiltonian), followed by readings.

The first reader was Fiona Farrell, born in Oamaru but now predominantly living in Christchurch. She read an excerpt from her latest book, The Village at the Edge of the Empire (2015), which was shortlisted for the Ockham New Zealand Book Awards. This factual work, the first of a planned two volumes of which the second will be fictional, looks at the rebuilding of a city (in this case Christchurch) and explores the themes of nostalgia and lost landscapes. She encouraged the audience to bask in the familiarity of local places like their corner dairy. She knows from bitter experience that you never know when they might be gone.

Brian Turner (born in Dunedin), poet, author, environmentalist and an expert in many fields including rabbiting, cycling, playing hockey (he played hockey for New Zealand in the 1960’s) and mountaineering – took the floor next. He is also by his own admission a political being and is not shy about chastising the North for its culpability in the ‘despoliation’ of the South in the name of progress (the proposal for increased daily helicopter landings on Mt. Tutoko Glacier and the trend towards lifestyle blocks were among those cited). He read an extract from his book: Boundaries: people and places of Central Otago and then quoted environmentalist Paul Kingsworth in The Guardian online (17 August 2009):

“Yet very few of us are prepared to look honestly at the message this reality is screaming at us: that the civilisation we are a part of is hitting the buffers at full speed, and it is too late to stop it. Instead, most of us – and I include in this generalisation much of the mainstream environmental movement – are still wedded to a vision of the future as an upgraded version of the present….”

Turner also referenced A short history of progress by Ronald Wright from The Massey Lectures (2004) in which the author discusses the impact of technology, population and consumerism on nature. In closing, Turner quoted from Margaret Atwood’s Payback: “Nature is calling in her debt, and nature calls last.”

The final reader was Joe Bennett, born in England, but who has lived in New Zealand since 1987 and who now resides, with his dog, in Lyttelton. He continued Turner's theme, asking the audience to indicate if they believed that the human species would be around in a million years. No one raised their hand.

Bennett believes that the South is not visceral to home, but that through reading and literature we know we are not alone. He read from the short story ‘Cabernet Sauvignon with my brother’ by Owen Marshall.

After the readings, throughout the session, Jesse Mulligan acted as Devil’s advocate, asking the panel a series of provocative questions, including:

"Why don’t you move to Auckland?"

Turner replied that he panicked too easily to live in Auckland, and that although he enjoyed walking around cities he needed to hear the silence and sounds of the open country and breathe in proper air. For him two of the most affecting words in the English language are love and home, and home is where the heart is. Fiona Farrell commented that she loved the diversity of New Zealand and that she split her time between Christchurch and a beach in the Banks Peninsula. She also mentioned her strong bond with Oamaru and in particular the limestone cliffs, which had deep historical significance and gave her a sense of belonging. Lastly Joe Bennett noted that it had never crossed his mind to move to Auckland, sharing an entertaining story of how he came to live and work as a teacher in the South Island.

Discussion continued about the unbalanced portrayal of the South Island in the media – that it was often depicted in a patronising manner as a beautiful place, not often visited and that even the word “South” had negative connotations – as it is always referring to down (Down South). One of the panellists mentioned how one of our most widely-read national magazines failed to properly cover the aftermath of the Canterbury earthquake, instead focusing on public health and other miscellaneous issues.

"Is there a South Island personality?"

Brian Turner began by saying yes and referred to the poem ‘Country Pub”. He described Southerners as being more taciturn than their northern counterparts, and more pessimistic, but genuine – they listen with sincerity and are more humble and less expressive (although he did concede that some of these expressions can relate to other people besides those from the South Island).  Later he read out examples from a list given to him by his son which include a few disparaging characteristics his son attributes to Aucklanders, such as that Aucklanders are condescending and disconnected…. Hmm…. 

Fiona Farrell then talked of clichés about the South Island, and gave the example of television advertisements that use the image of the South as a natural paradise to push their products. She mentioned one cheese advert in particular, where the beautiful lake depicted was in reality a toxic wasteland in need of urgent care. She added that there is a myth about the South which is comforting to urbanites, but that we must all fight to keep the clichés a reality.

As always Joe Bennett added a bit of humour and common ground to the discussion. He began his response with a few rhetorical questions. Are South Islanders grumpier than North Islanders? Are the two islands becoming more homogenous? He believes that New Zealand is less dogmatic than some countries about what our distinct characteristics are, and he believes that it is not necessary a bad thing. New Zealand is an immigrant, multicultural country, as evidenced by Auckland City. He said he did not want to make generalisations about the North or South, believing there were no distinctive differences between them.

The discussion moved to Southland art and artists, and exhibitions important to them. Graham Sydney and Tom Fields were mentioned several times, and also the rock drawings on the limestone outcrops in South Canterbury. Jesse Mulligan asked what the South Island offers the artist. Fiona Farrell talked about the positive impact of low rents in Dunedin and the resulting artistic output. Joe Bennett mentioned that he didn’t have a particular artist in mind but mused on the possibility of someone capturing the vista of Burke’s Pass in painting.

The session concluded with questions from the floor and it was here that Brian Turner confided that it was James K. Baxter‘s poetry that inspired him to start writing.

At the end of the session, Jesse Mulligan asked the audience if they thought you could still be a Southerner and live in Auckland. Many raised their hands.

I stepped out into the familiar space that is Aotea Square feeling a little chastened, enlightened, challenged, and irritated. Not bad for a one hour gathering.

-- Carolyn

Jeanette Winterson at AWF 2016: The Gap of Time

Renée from our Sir George Grey Special Collections spent Sunday morning in the company of Jeanette Winterson and... over a thousand fellow Winterson enthusiasts gathered in the ASB Theatre. Here's "The Winterson's Tale" as told by Renée:

Well, Jeanette was amazing.

It was a sunny and fresh Sunday morning and the festival atmosphere was suitably sparkly out on the café terraces, but the crowds were nevertheless eager to get inside to hear Jeanette Winterson talk about her latest book, The Gap of Time. But this was no ordinary talk – and I’ve had this confirmed from Festival goers more experienced than myself – Jeanette’s event was really more of a performance, and a wonderfully engaging and uplifting one too.

She appeared onstage alone, sans interviewer and comfy chairs, to Cyndi Lauper’s "Time after Time". Next came some thundery audio snippets of what must have been Leontes raging in The Winter's Tale – a little hard to follow, to be honest, but I forgave it because I knew her novel is a retelling of the play and we all love Shakespeare in Auckland right now. And then she began to talk about Shakespeare, in a wonderfully anecdotal, digressive, and poetic way, about why The Winter’s Tale was the only possible choice of plays for her to retell in the Hogarth Shakespeare series. Because of her own adoptive history; because it has an abandoned baby “at the shining centre of it”.

So she talked about Shakespeare, and how he also loved to rework and re-tell his stories, and how in The Winter’s Tale he takes the themes of betrayal, revenge and tragedy from Othello and King Lear and instead of devastation and loss, creates an opportunity for the restoration of love through forgiveness.

And then she read from the book, and at first I found it odd, because the Jeanette Winterson I remember loving as a teenager was all poetic and oblique (think The Passion and Sexing the Cherry) but this was an action scene, set in a fictional New Orleans, with tyres squealing and gunshots. And with onstage sound effects! Surprising, but she really did bring it to life.

And that was just the fish-hook. What she read next (Chapter Two) was a perfect description of love and loss as experienced by the narrator: the life-changing experience of a first baby and the impossible fact of his wife dying. I cried, and if you’ve loved or experienced grief you might have too.

After that it was questions, which Jeanette also somehow managed to make transcend the ordinary. The first one asked about Shakespeare and how difficult was it to turn the high drama of the play into a novel. Jeanette cleverly used this as a jumping-off point for another passionate monologue, about the importance of language in allowing us to express our thoughts and feelings “because when we can’t find the words, that’s when we really struggle”. Woven into this was the importance of education…. and so she brought it back to Shakespeare, whose work gives us the big words and the big stories, so we can give voice to our big thoughts and feelings.

It was clear to me that what I was enjoying was a pretty polished performance - after all I’d heard Jeannette herself deliver some of the same lines in her radio interview with Kim Hill just the week before. But this didn’t diminish the experience at all. She came across as a smart, funny, sincere and feeling person, and she inspired her Sunday morning devotees to a standing ovation.

-- Renée 

May 17, 2016

Michel Faber at AWF 2016: "Strangely Human"

Todd from Central City Library chose Michel Faber's session, 'Strangely human'. Here's his account:


As I watched the irreverent author Paula Morris – here in her role as interviewer – struggle to attach the battery pack of her over-the-ear microphone to her person, I noticed that the two chairs and table that furnished the stage were positioned between two giant potted plants. Faber sat down in his chair and clasped his hands across his lap and waited for Morris who found her seat still clutching the battery pack. When she remarked that the blame for her blunder lay squarely with the one-piece dress she was wearing, I could’ve been forgiven for believing that the ‘Between Two Ferns’ universe I’d just stepped into was quips all the way down.

Yes, the quips did come – mostly from Morris, who, at one point, went to that ANZAC place Kiwis inevitably go when they come face-to-face with an Australian (Netherlands-born Faber did a stint in The Lucky Country before moving to Scotland with his late wife Eva). I don’t recall the specifics of the jibe but something about Australia’s convict past comes to mind.

Faber, good-natured and warm, went along with this, as he did with all of Morris’s questioning. In fact, what became quite clear to me during the hour-long interview was just how good-natured and warm Faber was. Sure, he’d written numerous well-loved books and short story collections (his first novel Under the Skin was published in 1998 and adapted for the screen in 2014) and much had been made of them (Faber’s publisher urged him to apply for British residency to be eligible for the Booker Prize pending the release of his critically-acclaimed tome The Crimson Petal and the White in 2002). But what I got from Michel Faber was much more than just his writer self; more than the author reading (quite entertainingly) from his most recent – and stated, last – novel, The Book of Strange New Things.

We got deep into the world of Faber: his time spent as a nurse; his attitude to religion (he’s non-religious but fascinated by what religion provides for people in times of “un-endable grief and suffering and nightmare”); insight into his marriage to Eva with anecdotes including one about Scotland’s constant cloud cover being the couple’s dream weather scenario; his pastime of composing music, and even the existential wall he hit during the Abbott era in Australia, when he questioned literature’s ability to bring about meaningful change in the world, when no one with any real power seemed to read or value reading.

Fortunately for the book lovers of the world, Michel Faber worked through this crisis of faith. He mentioned that he now believed literature’s value lay in its ability to affect the reader in modest ways like in the quiet of an afternoon. None of this sounded trite or maudlin passing Faber’s lips. Nor was it saccharine when he read three heartrending poems from his forthcoming poetry collection, Undying, about his life with Eva just before she died from cancer in 2014, to an audience of complete strangers. I can say without a doubt that Paula Morris’s tears weren’t the only ones shed in the room. The tenderness of this final five minutes was sanctioned by everyone present – no doubt due, in big part, to the openness and affability of this former recluse named Michel Faber.

As the session concluded, Faber hugged Paula Morris, and I thought about how good he is at the end. About when I read the final sentence of The Book of Strange New Things, exactly the kind of asphyctic line that made the time spent inhabiting the world of the novel worth it – even if it was only in the quiet of an afternoon.


May 16, 2016

John Boyne at AWF 2016: The narrative of history

Chelsea from Central City Library is a huge reader of YA fiction and her mission for AWF 2016 was to see John Boyne and Michael Grant. Here's number one accomplished:

As way of introduction to this stand-out event which had quickly sold out its smaller venue and been relocated to the ASB Theatre, Guy Somerset read out some harsh criticisms of Boyne, that he is full of himself, and is a 'knob'. This drew laughter, as this smiling, youthful, bald-headed man in his jeans and t-shirt appeared to be quite the opposite of a knob, and indeed spent the next hour proving that criticism wrong.

The Irish accent is undoubtedly the most musically beautiful to listen to, which endears you to Boyne even more. He began by introducing his new collection of short stories, Beneath the Earth. Boyne joked that he had amassed enough good will with his publisher after ten years to be allowed to publish it as short story collections are notoriously risky. His short stories revolve around the unifying themes of betrayal and isolation. Those familiar with his work will know that he does such emotions well and with authenticity.

Somerset asked Boyne a few brief questions about his earlier novels which pleased long-term fans such as myself, and hopefully interested others in reading them. Boyne was not afraid to be himself, switching between talking seriously about which emotions drive his writing to joking about his dislike for Hugh Grant films.

Somerset then moved on to the main feature, Boyne’s 2015 novel A History of Loneliness, set in his native Ireland. Boyne explained that in many small countries, such as Ireland and New Zealand, authors are expected to write about their own countries, in a way we don’t expect from American authors. Boyne refused to, however, until he had a story he felt strongly about, and that came in the form of a novel about child abuse in the Catholic Church. Growing up in the Catholic Church and school system, Boyne comes from a place of knowledge and emotion, and he is not afraid to mention the abuse that he suffered and the resulting impact it had on his life. Because of this, he found that this story just flowed out of him.

Boyne read aloud two extracts from the book, his accent bringing the characters to life. Well adept at reading aloud, he looked up constantly and remained in eye contact with the crowd. The first extract was funny with black humour, the second was extremely sad and shocking, leaving the whole theatre silent. Boyne explained that he wasn’t trying to bring down the church, but rather bring light to this problem, and open a conversation on how it can be stopped. He interviewed many priests for this book, and found that they all suffered from loneliness, going home to empty houses. He wonders if this loneliness lends itself to being perverted into abuse.

He then briefly touched on his books for young people, the most famous being The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas. Fans will be pleased to hear that a tenth anniversary edition is to be published in November, illustrated by Oliver Jeffers. Many of these novels are set in wartime, as he likes to explore what role children play in war. Characters from ‘The Boy…’ have cameos in his new YA book The Boy at the Top of the Mountain, a quirk he also likes to do with his adult novels.

Finally came question time, the most poignant of them coming from a young woman who, with a trembling voice, admitted that she had been abused as a child. She asked for advice from Boyne on how to deal with her feelings and form relationships. He replied that if you can admit that in front of all these people than you are stronger than you think. Don’t allow those who have hurt you in the past to still have power over you. A sentiment that we can all do with remembering.

-- Chelsea

Jean-Christophe Rufin at AWF 2016: The Immortal Way

Our Research Centres Manager Jane Wild went to hear Jean-Christophe Rufin, doctor, co-founder of Medecins Sans Frontières, former ambassador, prize-winning novelist, and author, most recently, of The Santiago Pilgrimage: walking the immortal way, which I just discovered was subtitled in the original French "Compostela in spite of myself", demonstrating perhaps why we English speakers find ourselves resorting to French to express the concept of  'nuance'. But I don't want to keep you from Jane's interesting and nuanced post about the session. Here it is:

c. Editions Guerin

The capacity crowd in the ASB Theatre grew quiet to focus on two men on the stage. In conversation with Geraint Martin, Jean-Christophe Rufin outlined his personal track to enlightenment along the well-trodden Camino de Santiago. He had the full attention of the masses – many of whom will have been fellow pilgrims, and many of the others, certainly, potential pilgrims.

Rufin took his path following a stint as French Ambassador in Senegal. The lifestyle contrast would have been extreme, but I sense that Rufin possesses a natural level of enlightenment to start with. His accent is beguiling too.

A doctor by training, Rufin explained that the Camino is a virus – “Touch it and you will be contaminated”. The preparation for the walk starts with your backpack. The larger the pack, the more anxieties you are carrying. He was clear -- he didn’t take a water bottle, he didn’t carry a journal and he kept his pack light. His memories are the thoughts which returned, unbidden, once back at home, triggered by the experience he gained.

Here are his three stages on the way:

Step 1 – Focus on your body and most particularly your feet. The walk requires attention to the physical. Walking eight hours a day takes its toll. Sleeping close together does too. The goal each night was to get to sleep before the snorers.

Step 2  -- Observe the places you see and allow this to connect you to the past. This walk has been taken since the ninth century and covers mountains, forests and cathedrals. Rufin chose the more mountainous route to avoid some of the high season's foot traffic.

Step 3 – This occurs when you are on your way as a pilgrim and it takes you by surprise – the simplicity of being in the present and relating to others as fellow pilgrims. Questions on the route are reduced to: “Where did you start the way?” which must be followed by, “How many days?” These may be skewed by human competition – including the taxi after nightfall.

The arrival at the destination must be a shock. St James in the Cathedral is where the trail ends. The lesson learned on arriving at Santiago presents another challenge. The much anticipated arrival – “It is nothing”. The learning gained – “the aim of the way is the way”. For some, this becomes a pause before starting a repeat pilgrimage.

And with this the hour is up, and the lights come up for the inevitable irrelevant question before the thoughtful crowd moves on to their next event and the possibility of the book.

-- Jane  

Herman Koch at AWF 2016: Hearts of Darkness

Ana from Readers Services remembers "The dinner" as one of the reads which got the most thumbs-ups from the members of the Central City Library book club -- it may even have been unanimous, though that doesn't sound like a book club worth its salt, which "her" book club certainly is. Here she tells us about seeing the author of "The dinner" live at the Writers Festival.

author photo credit Mark Kohn, Hollandse Hoogte

Herman Koch came across as really nice, funny, and very natural. From time to time we got little nuggets of information about him. He told us his wife was Spanish, and that when he was in Colombia recently, he saw his books (in Spanish) in the shop windows, and was thrilled. We also learned that he has Asperger's, like some of the protagonists of his novels.

His book The Dinner was introduced by session chair Stephanie Johnson as a satire, and indeed, it is a satire of bourgeois attitudes, and it is brutal. The aspect of autism and Asperger's cropped up immediately and the novel was compared by Johnson to We need to talk about Kevinas the children (but also the father) obviously lacked empathy and were, like Kevin, completely indifferent to the suffering they inflict on other people. The children in The Dinner don’t take any responsibility for their actions and let their parents arrange everything for them. Furthermore, the parents are delighted to do so.

Herman Koch didn’t really want to elaborate much on the Asperger's aspect. He thinks it is a complex issue and lends itself to misunderstandings. However, there was quite a lot of laughter as Herman Koch confessed he had Asperger's. Apparently he had problems when he was at school and was sent, with his parent’s consent, to a psychologist for a series of sessions. He poured out his feelings and confessions about everything that was bothering him to the psychologist in the first session, but when he phoned for a second appointment, he found out that the psychologist had died.

The discussion passed to his second book Summer House with Swimming Pool, which is even bleaker than The Dinner. Critics labelled it a black comedy. Black comedy and satire seem to be Herman Koch’s trademark. Koch said he had a lot of fun writing it. The doctor in the novel is repulsed by the human body and some critics are saying that the book is making fun of the medical profession. Herman Koch says his doctor was always a bit worried about him, because he is a writer. When Koch finished the novel and went to give him a copy as a present, the doctor told him he had already bought one and read it – he was suspicious of having made an appearance in the book and wanted to check.

The setting of the novel is France, where a Dutch family have bought a house where they go to spend the holidays. The French hate the Dutch: Koch explained that when the Dutch go on holiday they take everything from home - even the potatoes and margarine, so the camping ground managers, as well as everybody else, know they won’t make any money from them.

Koch's latest novel will be released in a few months. It’s called Dear Mr M. and guess what? Its distinctive feature is black humour. As in his other novels, an ominous threat runs all through the book. He describes it as “musings on writing”. Koch does not like the modern or postmodern style of writing where the author calls attention to her or himself, or to the story. They can write well, he says, but the story is not interesting. He goes back to 19th century writers like Flaubert, Tolstoy, and Chekhov where, he says, you are in the story. He thinks the writer should be completely forgotten by the reader.

I found it a bit disappointing that he didn’t elaborate very much on his novels as I would have liked to know his opinion on several passages; but he made up for this by his great sense of humour and simply by being himself.

-- Ana

May 15, 2016

Auckland Writers Festival Gala Night "True Stories Told Live"

Our first dispatch from the Auckland Writers Festival Ocean Liner! Yes, because every year when I head over from the library to the Aotea Centre where the Gala Night is about to take place, when I see it loom up before me in the dark, all levels ablaze with light and teeming with people, wine glasses in their hands, I'm always reminded of the magical scene in Fellini's Amarcord of the fabled ocean liner Rex passing like a dream in the night, on its way to fabulous places.

Festival Director Anne O'Brien welcomed us all to this 16th Auckland Writers Festival with her usual élan. If last year she had given us a pang with her reading of an excerpt from Oliver Sacks’s essay “My Own Life”, written shortly after his diagnosis of terminal cancer, this year she enticed us with an excerpt from Neil Gaiman’s Fragile things.

“Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds' eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or they are words on the air, composed of sounds and ideas --abstract, invisible, gone once they've been spoken -- and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created.”

The theme for the small stories, eight of them, told to us by eight Festival writers in the True Stories Told Live format which is by now the signature of the Gala night, was Altered States. I’m sure everyone in the audience had their own favourites; I had four.

Petina Gappah (“rising Zimbabwean star”) had Spirit with a capital S and her jaunty lines included “As a Marxist-Leninist my drug of choice was vodka”, and her finale: “If one dream dies, I’m going to dream another dream and I’m going to dream it bigger!”.

Poet Tusiata Avia came out of the wings looking for all the world like a Minoan priestess with her mysterious archaic smile and regal countenance, and took her shoes off and spoke to us, in line with Minoan priestesses, about altered states originating from her epilepsy-- auras, and a thing called “Jamais vu”, never seen, the opposite of the better known “Deja vu”, already seen: “I don’t recognise where I am or who I am with”, and about the tumour next to her pineal gland, known as our “inner eye”. Her closing, testifying to the role of the unknown, had a hint of the oracular. “I don’t know what the ending is” she said, and exited.

I am very fond of New York Jewish humour and enjoyed both Vivian Gornick (“New York woman of letters”) and her story about Daniel and the effect he had on her F.I., or "Feeling Intelligence", which was to stop it from working, making it impossible for her to process the discrepancies between what he told her (My parents live abroad) and what she observed him doing (visiting them in Kansas City).

And finally, Jeanette Winterson. “My mother was a flamboyant depressive”, she began, who read the Bible to her every day. “Books were banned, except for the Bible. I asked her why and she said, 'The trouble with a book is that you don’t know what’s in it until it’s too late'". She found the books Jeanette was hiding under her mattress (apparently you can hide 72 books under a standard mattress) and took them outside and poured kerosene over them and burned them.

Watching the bonfire, Jeanette realised two things: “One, only the things inside us are ours -- I can memorise them! And then I thought, I CAN WRITE MY OWN!”

“It’s about the place we make in our imaginations, because the imagination is where everything begins.”

Could there have been a better send-off for a festival of writers and readers?

Auckland Writers Festival

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