Well, what a magical week.
One could be forgiven for thinking that writers’ festivals are for the writers – to sling books and pontificate – but having been on that side this week, it’s clear that they are just as much, if not more, for our dear readers. Readers who are, of course, just as full of stories as the writers they are watching on stage.
The stories that readers shared with me in the signing line, or in passing at Carriageworks, were raw, emotional and (in line with the Closing Address theme) brave. I was intensely moved by the festival goers taking the opportunity to connect with a writer and to share with them a phrase, an image, a character or a concept that reached through the paperback portal and held their hand through their grief, their ambitions, their trauma and their fears.
It was reflected in Amy Thunig-McGregor’s thoughts during the Closing Address on Sunday. She mused on the fracturing of shared media consumption. She recalled the communal living room telly and her father’s physical newspaper being conspicuously present. And now? Our homes have a dozen screens scattered around the house, on our wrists, hidden under doonas – internet connections aplenty, but human connections not so much. This is exactly why festivals like this one are at risk, and exactly why they are so important.
What a joy, then, that we get to come together – in a record shattering 100,000 cohort this year – to connect readers, writers and their work so visibly and so joyously. I saw this concept come to life in the amount of Bookstagrammers and BookTokers, usually digitally siloed, coming together from around the country, for one week of the year, to meet in person and share both thoughts and a bottle of wine.
It’s good to remember that our writers are readers too, voracious ones. The buzz in the greenroom hearing writers learn about each others’ works and excitedly attending their sessions warmed the cockles of my heart.
Some of the things from the week that have stuck with me:
Shankari Chandran: “Bravery can look very small … it can look like a breath.”
Ben Quilty: “We need more stadiums for thought, not for sport … if sport is our sugar, the arts is our fibre.”
Tony Birch’s remembrance of his mate Jack Charles (actor, activist and cat-burglar) and how pottery saved his life, teaching him for the first time that you can create something of beauty through gentleness. In fact, if you put on too much pressure, it’s destroyed.
Andrew Pippos sharing that he wrote a paragraph when he was eighteen years old that he loved. He printed it out and carried it around in his pocket for years. He then put it in his book Lucky’s years later – a secret little congratulations to himself.
When feeling down as a result of a negative review, Madeleine Gray makes herself feel better by looking at Goodreads reviews of famous books: “someone could review Virginia Woolf’s The Waves and say ‘bit boring, too much ocean’.”
S. Shakthidharan sharing with us some of his most private musings from Gather Up Your World in One Long Breath, accompanied on the violin by Victoria Falconer.
Tony Tulathimutte (the smartest person in the world?) reminding us that “words with two Os are funny.” It’s not all high-brow.
And, of course, Antoinette Lattouf reminding us that we need “braver institutions”.
I thought I would give the final word to the late giant of Australian letters David Malouf, whose book An Imaginary Life I remember being intimidated by in my Year 8 English Class. I must be brave and revisit it as a grown up.
So long as you are still writing, you believe that something may simply appear that you are not expecting, could not have predicted, and could not know you had in you”, he said.
I’m sure Malouf wouldn’t mind if I extended “writing” in that quote to include “reading”. I would like to thank you all for gathering together over this fantastic week to believe in the unexpected, to widen your world just a crack, and to hopefully find something that you didn’t know you had in you.
Thank you to the incredible staff of the Sydney Writers' Festival (you would be surprised how few there are when you take in the scale of the event) for putting together a truly exceptional week and inviting me to be the Festival Blogger. And thank you to all of you for reading along.
Until next year, happy reading and writing to you all…
