The first person I thought of when I saw the subject for this week’s Bookshelf of the Week was Michel de Montaigne, the celebrated sixteenth-century French nobleman, who is credited as being the founder of the modern personal essay. If the man were alive today in his library which was situated in a corner tower on the grounds of his château in the Périgord, then this is what I think it might look like.

The in-built bookcases in this library room are exquisite. I love how they mould to the circular shape of the room so perfectly, with the windows forming part of the integrated design. I adore the antique desk too. It fits the room perfectly I only thing I wonder about however, is where the little stepladder lead to? Could this be the only entrance and exit to the room? If it is then I’m sure Montaigne (given his love for solitude) would approve.

So what of the great man’s tower, and the real library room in which he scribed his famous Essais? Well, the Château de Montaigne itself was extensively damaged by fire in 1885 (it has since been restored), but the tower thankfully remained untouched. It stands today, and many people visit it, but alas Montaigne’s library no longer houses any books, or indeed any bookshelves (the majority of the surviving collection of around 100 books are now housed at the Bibliothèque nationale de France and the Bibliothèque municipale, Bordeaux). The room does however still stand as a testament to a great man, and if one casts one eyes skywards, then one is able to gaze in awe at the the scholarly Greek and Latin inscriptions that Montaigne had had burnt on to the rafters.

I shall leave the final word to Montaigne himself, who describes his library and his interactions with his books, in his Essais. This extract is taken from the essay Of Three Kind of Association, found in the Everyman’s Library edition of The Complete Works of Michele de Montaigne:

When at home I turn aside a little more often to my library…There I leaf through now one book, now another, without order and without plan, by disconnected fragments. One moment I muse, another moment I set down or dictate, walking back and forth, these fancies of mine that you see here.

The shape of my library is round, the only flat side being the part needed for my table and chair; and curving around me it presents at a glance all my books, arranged in five rows of shelves on all sides. It offers rich and free views in three directions, and sixteen paces of free space in diameter.

Can I close this week’s Bookshelf of the Week by recommending a further book to you? If you’re searching for an accessible and entertaining biography on Michel de Montaigne, then please look no further than Sarah Bakewell’s most excellent How to Live: A Life of Montaigne in one question and twenty attempts at an answer (Chatto & Windus). It’s flawless, and I have this book alone to thank, for sparking my own interest in Montaigne.

…then please make sure it’s one from the Bloomsbury ‘Year of the Short Story’ Sampler (provided you haven’t read it already of course), created to give a taste of each of the five collections that Bloomsbury are publishing during the first five months of 2012, in celebration of their ‘Year of the Short Story’.

I’ve only just managed to get around to consuming the five short story offerings myself after reporting on it a couple of weeks ago, but let me tell you folks, if you don’t read at least one of the stories in this sampler as a bare minimum, then you’re missing out on something pretty special. It’s stands as a good example of why there’s so much to love about the short fiction form.

Before reading the sampler, I thought I would enjoy maybe two or three of the featured stories – with one of them perhaps being an absolute stand out – but what I didn’t expect was that I’d love every single one of stories, and to a level where not one of them stood out as being anything less than what I call ‘top drawer’, which is high accolade indeed.

Yes, I know I have a reverence for the short story form, and that I tend wag my tail a little too furiously for a lot of short stories on RobAroundBooks, but I’m not so blinded by veneration that I declare my love for every one I read. Thing is, I got from this 120-page sampler a 100% positive short story reading experience, and I never would have anticipated that. So, to hopefully encourage you to at least read a story or two, here’s a brief rundown on my thoughts for each:

* ‘Diving Belles’ by Lucy Wood (from the collection Diving Belles, published 19th January): The collection that this story is from is listed as having tales in which ‘Cornish folklore slips into everyday life’. ‘Diving Belles’ is a prime example. Still hopelessly grieving the loss of her husband, Iris uses a generous gift from a thoughtful neighbour, to test the myth that the dead can be reclaimed from the sea.

I love this story, not only because of Wood’s beautiful prose and the way in which she uses it to describe things so vividly, but also because of how successfully she manages to knit the theme of ancient folklore into her story. Inventive, magical, haunting and surreal, ‘Diving Belles’ is a truly effecting story, made all the more so by Wood’s equally affecting voice.

***

* ‘We Wave And Call’ by John McGregor (from the collection, This Isn’t the Sort of Thing That Happens to Someone Like You, published 2nd February): One of the things I admire most about McGregor – and it’s clearly evident in this story; a story which follows a swimmer as he unknowingly gets increasingly out of his depth – is the way in which he employs such a richness of detail to his prose that he is able to grab a hold of a reader’s sensory system and pull him/her into his story world. We Wave and Call is set in and around the sea in a warm climate, and while reading it I most certainly felt the waves gently lapping at my body, and the heat of the sun slowly burning the back of my neck (and no, that wasn’t my reading lamp).

But of course a story is much more than a simple tool for engaging the senses, and We Wave and Call – like so many other of McGregor’s fictional creations – stands as an example of just how accomplished this writer is, in being able to deliver a storyline that’s engaging, original, tense and wholly memorable. It’s rare to find a story which is presented in second person point of view i.e. one that employs the use of ‘you’ so that the reader becomes the character (for example, ‘you hold out your hands, seeing how pale they look in the water’) but McGregor manages to wield this difficult narrative mode magnificently, even with the added ‘hassle’ of alternating between past and present tense. We Wave and Call is beautifully crafted, and if it stands as an indication of how good the rest of McGregor’s newest collection will be, then we’re in for a mighty fine treat.

***

* ‘Homesick’ by Roshi Fernando (from the collection Homesick, published 1st March): It’s New Year’s Eve 1982, and family and friends are gathered in South London at the home of Sri Lankan’s Victor and Nandini. As New Year approaches and the house gets fuller and everyone begins to relax more, the adults reminiscence downstairs about family and former lives, while the children deal with teenage politics and suchlike, in the bedrooms upstairs.

What I adore most about this story is the richness of culture that pulsates from it. It’s clear that author Fernando has Sri Lankan heritage, and she bestows all of her cultural knowledge onto the reader, as a welcome and glorious gift. In the space of this one short story – which is beautifully written – we learn, amongst other things, just how important families are, how crucial it is for an ‘outsider’ to fit in, and how much pull one’s homeland can have on a person’s heart. The story does have a cast of thousands (maybe not that many, but you get my drift), and it does take a bit of effort to keep up with everyone at first (my advice to read every short story twice definitely rings true here ), but the effort is certainly worth it, not least because the stories in this collection are apparently linked, and I’ve feeling that we’re going to meet many of the cast again in the future. (I certainly hope so because ‘Homesick’ has some delightfully lovable characters i.e. Victor and Preethi).

***

* ‘The Dead Roads’ by D. W. Wilson (from the collection Once You Break A Knuckle, published 12th April): Although this is a debut collection, I’m wholly familiar with this gritty and honest tale from Canadian writer, Wilson. It was the story that won him the BBC National Short Story Award last year, and although I first read this one back in September, it’s long stuck with me. The Dead Roads follows three friends as they set off on a road trip across Canada. There’s tension from the outset as the narrator’s friend (Animal Brooks), begins hitting on his girlfriend, Vic. The relationship between the three only becomes more strained when they find themselves in the back-of-beyond town of Shellyoak in the Canadian Rockies, where they are forced to camp overnight in the most unusual of locations.

What is it about The Dead Roads that has stuck with me? Well, first and foremost it’s the story’s characters. Within this trio there is real depth and complexity, and an intrigue that really holds the reader’s attention. Factor in a more bizarre and complex character who comes in later on in the story, and the whole reading experience is one that the reader is unlikely to forget.

Then there’s the profound level of tension that has been imbued into this story. It’s omnipresent yet it always simmers just below the surface, and this has the affect of making the reader feel as though something’s going to blow at any moment. You don’t come out of the other end of a story like this without it having some kind of lasting effect.

So in the space of one story Wilson has shown me that he is potentially a master of character and mood. He’s also given me a strong impression of the ruggedness of the Canadian landscape. I’ve a hope that the rest of Wilson’s collection is going to build on that impression, and that I’m going to meet even more characters that are going to live with me outside the book.

***

* ‘Demons’ by Rajesh Parameswaran (from the collection I Am An Executioner, published 10th May: Convinced that she is the one responsible for bringing devastating misfortune upon her husband, Savitri seeks solace for her actions; firstly by looking inside herself, and then through reaching out to others. It soon becomes clear however, just how alone in her grief she really is.

Steeped in Indian culture and myth, this is an incredible tale from Parameswaran, that touches on so many themes, without ever feeling dense or overbearing. Loneliness, grief, guilt and cultural tension are all explored, as is the immigration experience. It sounds like a lot to pack in to one short story, but Parameswaran has managed to do so magnificently, with a prowess in storytelling that is both delicate and hard-hitting at the same time. The collection as a whole is built around the theme of love, and ‘Demons’ explores the subject in a way that I find profound and utterly remarkable. I really am excited about the prospect of reading more from this author.

***

Now dear reader, don’t let me leave you thinking that I’m getting a bit carried away here in judging five collections on the basis of having read one story from each of them. I’m well aware that the purpose of Bloomsbury’s short story sampler is to pique interest in their forthcoming collections (Diving Belles has actually already been published), and that they would have chosen particular stories to show each collection in its best light. But the fact remains, just from reading a single story from each of these collections I see real potential in every one of these authors (I already knew the potential of McGregor and Wilson of course), and that is a rare and exciting thing.

Ultimately, the proof of the pudding is in the eating of it in its entirety of course – and I’ll reserve total judgement until I’ve had a chance to consume each ‘pudding’ – but as a starting point this sampler turns out to be one tasty appetiser. I hope after reading it, that you’ll feel the same. If you do manage to work your way through some of these stories (and you’d damn well better ), then please come back and tell me what you thought of them, because I’d love to hear your thoughts.

So, the headline news at the Costa Book Awards ceremony in London last night may have been the (deserved) victory of Andrew Miller who took the title of Costa Book of the Year with his novel Pure (Sceptre), but the bigger news for me – and every short story fan across the UK and beyond – was the announcement that Costa is expanding their Book Awards in 2012, to include a new short story category.

A cause for celebration? Absolutely! As many of us know, the short story form remains woefully ignored in the UK – at least when it comes to the mainstream literary prizes (awards in the UK such as the Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award, the BBC National Short Story Award, the Sunday Times EFG Private Bank Short Story Award and the Bristol Short Story Prize certainly keep a bright torch burning) – so putting it in a spotlight as bright and as public as the Costa Book Awards can only give the short story a much needed boost and elevation (some quite shockingly still see the short story as a lesser literary form), will which surely (hopefully) encourage more readers to embrace the glory of short fiction. I think I can see exciting times ahead.

I should be quick to add however, that it’s not all ‘shout it from the rooftop’ news for short fiction fans. Costa may well be putting a short story category in their Book Awards this year, but it will not be allowed to compete with the other five categories (First Novel, Novel, Biography, Poetry and Children’s Book), for the overall Book of the Year prize. This is disappointing to hear, but then again how could it compete against the others because this new short story category will only consider single short stories, rather than story collections or anthologies.

Some would say that this a bad decision for Costa to make. I was speaking to a respected publicist earlier today who said that publishers would probably prefer it if the category were open to collections. I agree, to a point (especially if it meant that short stories could compete for the overall prize), but let’s not forget that a short story is a single entity; an encapsulated whole, and it should perhaps be judged as such (they’re certainly judged that way for the most part on RobAroundBooks).

Let’s also not forget how short story consumption is currently evolving. As time progresses and our move towards e-readers becomes more widespread, so the way in which we read short stories seems to be changing also. And just like the ‘iTunes Revolution’ where we began to favour individual music tracks over albums, we seem to be heading in a similar direction with short stories, where we have more of a desire to consume individual offerings rather than entire collections. If this turns out to be the case then Costa have made absolutely the right decision.

Regardless, I simply applaud Costa for taking such a definitive and just step in the right direction with regards to short fiction, and for doing so in 2012 – the year designated as ‘Year of the Short Story’. And it may only be January but there already seems to be a buzz like I’ve never seen before around the reading world with regards to short stories. What with Bloomsbury embracing the form, and new short story collections on the way from ‘masters’ such as Etgar Keret (Suddenly, A Knock on the Door (Vintage); published 23rd February) and Kevin Barry (Dark Lies the Island (Jonathan Cape); published 5th April), some are even going as far as to suggest that we may be on the verge of a short story renaissance. I certainly hope that we are, to the point where I’m wishing with all of my heart and soul. Imagine bearing witness to a renaissance, and a short fiction one at that? I can’t think of anything that would thrill me more.

Over to you: As you can tell, this is a subject that’s very close to my heart and I’d love to hear your own thoughts on it. Do you think Costa are wasting their time in introducing a short story category into their Book Awards? Do you think it will it encourage more readers to pick up short stories? I’d love to hear your thoughts, whatever they are.

I used to adhere to a strict rule when reading short fiction – never read more than one or two stories in a single day. This was a rule I stuck doggedly to, because I felt that reading any more than this would cause everything to meld in the mind; plot lines would mix together, characters would cross the threshold from one story into another, and it would all become a bit like an out-of-control Facebook party, in my head. Thankfully, I’ve now dropped this notion, and I can now read up to a dozen shorts on a good day (a very very good day mind you), and that’s because I’ve found that it is possible to keep short stories separate from one another in the brain, especially when one is taking brief notes while reading (I’ll share more on my short story note-taking in a future post). However, this is still one crucial short story reading rule that I would never drop, and it’s the most precious short story reading tip that I’m ever likely to share with you:

Now, this advice may sound somewhat counter productive given that the short story is lauded as being the most suitable literary form to fit in with the hectic pace of 21st Century living. However, I cannot stress enough just how valuable it is to read through a short story more than once. Aside from the bonus of gaining retention, the reader is more likely to understand a story’s true message if he/she engages with it more than once, especially when a short story’s meaning is usually more subtly embedded than it is in a longer work of fiction. There’s also the matter of detail, and so much of it can be lost to the reader who simply sweeps through a short story in a single sitting.

Of course I’m not saying that one can’t enjoy and understand a short story when it’s consumed in a singular bite, but I believe that the real value and understanding of a story can only come from reading it more than once, especially when one has established a ‘route map’ for it. Route map? Well, I liken reading short stories to a tourist visiting an unknown city for the first time (which very much matches my philosophy that every book/story is a journey). On the first day the visitor is so overwhelmed and so focussed on navigating from A to B that he misses out on most of the detail that surrounds him. Sure, the tourist will spot the landmarks and key features, but everything else will be lost on him.

Compare this to the tourist who travels the same route in the city on the following day, when a mental ‘route map’ has been established in his head. This tourist is immediately more familiar with his surroundings, and as a consequence he becomes calmer, more observant and significantly more confident. In this state he begins to venture deeper, and to notice more detail as he goes along. He is becoming more comfortable with his surroundings, and this in turn makes him more receptive to that which surrounds him.

I’ve found exactly the same thing to be true when rereading short stories. When I reread a short story I become instantly more familiar and comfortable in its surroundings, which in turn, just like the tourist, makes me more receptive to that which is going on around me. Almost subconsciously I begin to notice the smaller detail. Familiarity increases my confidence, and it gives me the encouragement to venture deeper. I also become more questioning, more able to read between the lines and more likely to diverge in my thoughts while reading. The result? I tend to come out the other side having soaked up most of the detail of a story, while feeling as though I’ve connected with it on a more sublime level. I feel fulfilled (especially if it’s a good story), my appetite is sated, and I feel as though I’ve given the story the level of focus and attention it deserves. All this, simply because I went back to the story and reread it.

So I invite you dear reader to invest a little more time in getting to know your short stories better (especially if you’ve come to the end of one and don’t really understand what it was about). They may be deemed by many as being quick throwaway bite-sized literary nuggets, but I urge you to reread your short stories as often as possible. I’m not suggesting that you dive back into every one – we are after all living in this hectic twenty first-century – but definitely reread as many short stories as you can. By doing so you will discover the true power of the form, and your soul will be nurtured in ways that you never thought possible. It all begins with the simple step of rereading.

And of course when it comes to the short stories of the greats i.e. Hemingway, Maupassant, Carver, Trevor, Chekhov, O’Connor (Flannery and Frank), Wolff etc. then rereading is an absolute must. You should trample through the creations of these short story masters so often that you can do it blindfolded, because in doing so you will become truly Enlightened. You have my word on that.

Book events with authors normally follow the same old routine – the author’s introduced, the author reads, the author answers questions – but at the West Port Book Festival on Sunday and The Short Story Hour, featuring David Gaffney and Hannah McGill, the assembled audience of around 30 was given exactly what it said on the tin – an hour of short story reading, and I’ve got to say, it was refreshing and delicious in equal measure. Hosted in the cosy confines of Peter Bell Books, where the aroma of antiquarian books never fails to arrest the senses (in a good way) the audience was subjected to delight, thrill and shock (read on) with stories from two very different authors.

Hannah McGill, former artistic director of the Edinburgh International Film Festival and Review Show regular, has had many of her short stories anthologised and is currently working on her first novel. She was up first reading her short story, Amity and Ray, and I’ve got to say, based on this story alone because I’ve never read her before, that I adore McGill’s prose. It’s packed with emotion and is very literary (not in a stuffy way); the kind of writing that has a deep down affect on the soul.

Following a round of cakes (I’m not kidding), the floor was taken over by David Gaffney. And If McGill is profoundly literary in her storytelling, then Gaffney is the complete polar opposite. He writes primarily to entertain, often with poignancy, and that much is clear both from the type of stories that he writes, and his style of delivery. A specialist in micro-fiction, Gaffney has had three collections published to date – Sawn-Off Tales (a firm favourite here at RobAroundBooks), Aromabingo and his latest The Half-Life of Songs – and a novel, Never Never. He opened his reading with the story Cica Lights, before moving on to Happy Place, Little Jan (scroll down to ‘excerpt from book’), Floydy, The Lost Language of Hairgrips (scroll), and Music Like ours Never Dies (scroll).

There was an Arrrgghhh moment when Gaffney couldn’t get his laptop to work; a somewhat disappointing moment because he was going to tell a story via Powerpoint (he created a unique story series in Powerpoint for EdFest 2009 called Destroy Powerpoint), and I was hugely intrigued to see it because I love innovation in storytelling, and partly because I wanted to find out if it was on the same lines as the Powerpoint chapter in Jennifer Egan’s A Visit to the Goon Squad. On the bright side however, it gave David the time to read a few more of his flash creations, but not before the floor was turned back over to Hannah for another of her stories.

I think Hannah in some ways regretted her story choice, Dorothy Pugh. The tale’s a little explicit and Hannah was squirming in her seat somewhat while reading it, especially when the subject turned to penises. A red-faced Hannah admitted that she had never read the story in public before but actually, I’m glad she did. It’s a thoroughly entertaining and well written tale, which comes much humour and the same underlying sense of profundity (and to honest it’s not really that rude). So bravo to Hannah for picking it.

Back over to David who finished the session with another quick fire round of micro-fiction. He started with a couple of stories – Delivered by Sharks (scroll) and The History Brush – which come from his newest collection but which were originally from a project called 23 Stops to Hull. David closed with another two from his Sawn-Off Tales collection, The Kids are Alright and The World Won’t Listen.

And so a wonderfully engaging story hour came to an end. On the face of it it looks like David had more floor time than Hannah, but that’s not the case. Almost every one of David’s tales can be devoured in under a minute. Regardless, I doubt any of the audience exited the bookshop other than completely satisfied. Everyone certainly left looking a lot happier than when they came in (including me); a testament to the storytelling prowess of two fresh and invigorating writers.

My thanks to Hannah and David for putting some colour in to a grey Edinburgh Sunday, and to the West Port Book Festival and Peter Bell Books for making the event happen.

Thirsty for more? Then head on over to David Gaffney’s website, or Hannah McGill’s blog, where both authors have served up some free short story reading goodness. How kind of both of them.

The Edinburgh Book Festival may be the biggest literary event of the year in Scotland’s capital, but don’t think for one minute that outside of August Edinburgh is bereft of any decent book events. There’s plenty going on all year round (it is a UNESCO City of Literature after all), and a mouse with a big voice (it’s not quite a roar but it’s getting there), has let itself be heard over the past four days in Edinburgh’s historical West Port; home to nine independent book shops (a quite remarkable amount given the small size of the area) and one rather competent bookbinder.

Now in its fourth year, The West Port Book Festival is going from strength to strength, and this year the festival, whose events are always free, was stronger than ever. Unfortunately I could only make two of the multitude of the events on offer, the first of which I was incredibly excited about, an audience with Robert Shearman.

If you don’t know who Rob Shearman is then you really should do. Not only is he an exceptionally talented and prolific short story writer – having now produced three short story collections to date (Tiny Deaths, Love Songs for the Shy and Cynical and his latest Everyone’s Just So So Special) – he’s also a theatrical playwright and soon to be debut novelist. Currently, London-based Shearman is also acting in the role of writer-in-residence at Napier University, where he advises students enrolled on the university’s MA course in creative writing. Shearman is perhaps best known however, for his stint as a Dr. Who writer. He’s the man who wrote the highly popular Daleks episode in 2005, which saw the Doctor’s deadliest enemy reintroduced into the TV series. As such this has brought Shearman huge recognition, and something of a cult following.

So on to the event itself which was staged at the newest bookshop to open its doors at the West Port, Pulp Fiction. Chaired by Stuart Kelly, literary editor of Scotland on Sunday (always a bonus because Stuart is an exceptional literary host, as proven many times now at EdBookFest), the venue was certainly compact and bijou (although more spacious than many bookshops), but oh so warm and inviting. And when Shearman took to the floor to deliver a lively reading from his newest short story collection, Everyone’s Just So So Special (Big Finish Books), the place just got warmer, and remained so throughout the entirety of the event.

If you’ve ever read any of Rob Shearman’s stories then you will know that they are unique, thoughtful, often dark and, more often than not, liberally doused in humour. The man is exactly like his stories (although probably not so dark ). Shearman gave an animated and theatrical reading of his story, Coming in to Land, which was every bit as good as any live performance as I’ve seen from a writer. Anyone having never read Shearman before would be tempted to go and pick him up straight away (the books not the man), based solely on the strength of this reading alone. And I’m willing to bet that the assembled crowd of around 30 – all of who seemed equally titillated and entertained by Shearman – would agree with me.

Following Shearman’s reading Kelly opened up with questions, first asking Shearman what it was he brought from his theatre writing background into his prose writing. Shearman responded by talking about Alan Ayckbourn and his dictum that one can write as creatively and as cleverly as one wants for theatre, around any theme, provided one gives the audience a reason to come back after the interval. This is a philosophy that Shearman likes to apply to his prose writing. “In theatre you try to do anything you can to not make the audience feel bored”, said Shearman. “I try to apply the same idea to my prose writing, to hopefully not bore people; to have every paragraph do a job. If it doesn’t have a job then cut it because that’s when people say they’ve had enough of a story and throw it away.”

Noting how performance-enriched his reading was, Kelly asked Shearman about the transition from dialogue to monologue and how he invested a sense of personality. Shearman revealed that although he went to drama school he was never really good enough. He’d resigned himself to the fact that he would never be more than ‘stunningly mediocre’. As a consequence and because of a bad stammer (which he still claims to still have even though it’s not in the least bit apparent), Shearman admitted that he doesn’t like performing much. At first he always tried to avoid it, until he realised that he was being called on more and more as a prose writer to give readings. Standing up to his responsibilities, Shearman wrote particular stories as performance pieces, which he would perform comfortably (provided his wife wasn’t there. Coming in to Land is one of those stories.

Considering many of his stories to be quite dark, Kelly asked Shearman if black humour was a necessary part of telling these stories. “I think of them when I write them as funny stories,” responds Shearman. “They always start for me as being funny ‘what ifs’ and as I write them the humour becomes more blackened sometimes. They begin as gags but then I consider ‘gags’ to be too flimsy a reason for writing them and I look around to find another reason for writing them, and often the horror thing comes into them, but from the other way around.”

Of course it’s difficult to ignore and Kelly eventually brought up the thing that Shearman is most noted for – his writing for Dr. Who and the episode which brought the Daleks back to cult TV series. Mentioning that a radio station had suggested that when he dies he will probably be given a Dalek tombstone, Kelly asked Shearman if the whole Dr. Who thing was an albatross around his neck. “Once in a while,” Shearman responded, “but you can’t knock it. It was a fun job. I’m proud of it I really am, and my first book was published in part because the publishers believed I had a big following after the Dalek episode.”

For me, Shearman isn’t about Dr. Who or even science fiction or horror. As I said earlier this man is an extraordinary short story writer and if this thoroughly entertaining hour showed me anything it was that Robert Shearman is as cordial and as engaging as his stories are original. This is a man of comedy and sharp-wit and that much came though during this event. It was a pleasure to be in the man’s company, and I thank West Port Book Festival and the Pulp Fiction bookshop for making that possible.

To finish, although it’s not from the West Port Book Festival (there’s an official audio podcast of the event pending, I’ll update when it’s available), I bring you a recording of another event in which Rob Shearman reads the same story, ‘Coming in to Land’. This was recorded earlier this year as part of the Chiaroscuro Reading Series, in Toronto. Enjoy:

If people can have literary tattoos then why can’t literature have people tattoos?

My ‘Cover Love’ feature returns to RobAroundBooks this month, with one of the finest looking set of books to have graced the bookshop bookshelves in recent months. This newly released limited edition set of titles from Penguin Books is called the Penguin Ink collection. It comprises of six of Penguin UK’s older bestselling titles, which have had special covers designed for them by renowned tattoo artists around the world. The titles and associated cover artists are as follows (links lead to publisher page for each title, and the tattoo artist’s own website):

• High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Russ Abbott.
• Notes on a Scandal by Zoe Heller. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Valerie Vargas.
• The Accidental by Ali Smith. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Judd Ripley.
• The Rotters’ Club by Jonathan Coe. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Han van der Sluys.
• The Book of Dave by Will Self. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Duncan X.
• White Teeth by Zadie Smith. Cover designed by tattoo artist, Lynn Akura.

I adore these covers, not least because they’re bold and bright and very much in the traditional ‘old school’ design. And yet in every one of these ‘book tattoos’ there’s also a subtle tribute to the book that each one relates to. They’re beautiful and wholly unique, and I think that every one of these covers stands as a testament to the skill and creativity of the tattoo artist who created it. I’ve long admired the tattooist as being something of a master craftsman/craftswoman (I have a bunch of tattoos myself), and I applaud Penguin for putting these ‘masters’ on a pedestal, and giving their artwork pride of place on the cover of six of their most celebrated novels.

And if you’re thirsty for more tattoo-inspired cover loving goodness dear reader, then you’ll be pleased to know that Penguin US have also commissioned their own set of covers, featuring a whole different set of titles and six more ‘kick ass’ tattoo artists from around the globe. Go check ‘em out.

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‘Cover Love’ offers me the indulgence of being able to push aside the old adage of ‘never judging a book by its cover’ for once, and to celebrate with a passion my lust for book cover design.

Note: remember to scroll down to the bottom for picture highlights from the day.

Well this is it folks, my final diary entry of EdBookFest 2011. I know I post it a couple of days later than would have been ideal, but such is the pace and madness of EdBookFest, that I hope you will forgive me for having delayed (mainly because I hit a wall of fatigue really hard. I so need to work on my fitness and stamina )

Urs and Helen
Although I had always intended to come into Charlotte Square today for the Will Self event at 8pm, I hadn’t expected to find myself at the Urs Widmer/Helen Walsh in the Speigeltent at 10:15. It was author/translator Donal McLaughlin who had encouraged me to come along. He’s responsible for translating Widmer’s first book to the English language, My Mother’s Language (University of Chicago Press). In Switzerland, Widmer is something of a literary legend, but in this country he is almost unheard of. On the strength of today’s event though, he’s not going to be unheard of for much longer.

Even though I was primarily at this event to see Urs Widmer, let’s not forget that there was another author there too, and she went a long way today to impressing me greatly, as well. Helen Walsh comes to EdBookFest with her third novel Go To Sleep (Canongate Books), which tells the harrowing tale of a first time mother who spirals into the grip of post-natal depression.

Walsh read first, from the first part of her book and from near the end of it, both to give us an initial impression of the chief protagonist Rachel’s mindset and thoughts on pregnancy, and to show us how far she had descended into a ‘heart of darkness’. It was a powerful reading, as I’m sure you can imagine, and any notion I had that this book was primarily for a female audience was quickly dispelled as I became more and more engaged with a prose that was filled with depth and raw emotion.

Widmer was up next, and before his translator read on his behalf he gave us a snippet of his novel in the vernacular. I can’t understand a word of German, but Widmer’s prose still rang with a certain tuneful resonance. My interest was piqued. McLaughlin took over reading three extracts from Widmer’s novel, giving us a good taste of the style of his writing. At first Widmer very much reminded me of Australian novelist, Stefan Zweig, but as the reading went on I realised that Widmer’s prose was much more extended than that. He seems to write with the same profundity as Zweig, but with more description. His prose, albeit in a translated form, was absolutely beautiful (a testament to the quality of McLauglin’s translating skills too).

Turning over to questions, chair Diane Hope, after noting that both novels were based on personal experience, asked Walsh why she chose to write a work of fiction instead of a memoir. Walsh responded by saying that fiction had always operated as a ‘safehouse’ for her. “I can run amok and be vocal and say what I want in fiction, in a way that I couldn’t in a memoir,” says Walsh. She does note however, that there is nothing of her own journey with her own son in Go To Sleep, but she couldn’t have written the novel without going in to the same heart of darkness that Rachel went to.

Speaking of his book, Widmer said that life had given him a real story that he just had to tell. However, not wishing to spoil the only subject he had for a story, he kept waiting and waiting for the right time to start writing it. “This is the kind of book that can only written at a certain age,” said Widmer, “and when the ‘heroes’ of the book are no longer alive. The trouble is the lover of this book never died. He was 90, 94, 95, and finally, with my patience running out, I started the book with the line ‘today the lover of my mother is dead’. He wasn’t dead at all.”

Widmer also revealed that because he couldn’t live with the fact that My Mother’s Lover focuses so much on his mother, and so little on his father – “it made my father look like an idiot,” said Widmer – he ended up writing a novel based on his father too (it’s called My Father’s Book, and it will be published in English this November).

There’s a little more to this event but I’ll tell you about it later. For now let it be known that I was mightily impressed with Urs Widmer (he’s going to be another big star in this country), and pleasantly surprised by the profound depth of Helen Walsh’s writing (it wasn’t that I was unimpressed before, I just hadn’t read her). I’m glad Mr. McLaughlin encouraged me along.

Meeting the amazing BookRambler
With the event finished it was time to hang around for the next eight hours for the Will Self event, which I was hugely looking forward to (it was the second ticket |I put in my shopping basket back in June ). No problem I thought. I’ll just work away with a bit of writing in my most favoured of surrounding i.e. the Spiegeltent.

I started tapping away on the keyboard, and who should come across and introduce herself, but none other than the wonderful fellow blogger, Janette Currie aka BookRambler. I’ve known Janette for a long time now but have never met her face-to-face. So it was a real pleasure finally putting a face to that name. Would it surprise you to know that Janette is both utterly charming and supremely intelligent? I wasn’t surprised either, that much comes out in her blogging, and it seems to be the run of things with everyone that I’ve met at EdBookFest this year i.e. they’re infinitely brighter and infinitely more interesting than I could ever be

Fatigue creeps in
After my chat with Janette I got back down to work, but soon realised that a real tiredness was creeping in. Hoping to shake it off I went for a stroll, only to bump in to my good mate Colin Galbraith, who accompanied me back to the Speigeltent for coffee and a chat. We had a good lengthy chat (he even managed to take this dreadful photo of me. I look demented ) before Colin had to head home for a prior engagement.

I was on my own again, and only six hours to go until the Will Self event. I started to get back to work, but soon an overbearing sense of fatigue started to wash over me again. I knew I’d finally hit the proverbial wall, and it became clear that despite my huge excitement at the prospect see Will Self later on in the day, there was no way I was going to last another six hours. It was then that I decided to make the difficult decision of calling it a day, and heading off home so that I could catch up on some much needed rest. In retrospect that was the right decision to make (I’m pretty good at listening to my body), but I’m still kicking myself for having missed Mr. Self. I know there’ll be other opportunities though, and I take comfort in knowing that.

So with my ‘bailing out’ bringing something of an anti-climax to the end of EdBookFest for me (because I have nothing scheduled for the final day), I bring my final EdBookFest diary entry for this year to a close. It was at this point that I was going to pass on my final thank-you’s and farewells, but I think that that deserves a post of it’s own.

Thank you for reading all my diary entries folks, and remember this may be my last diary entry for EdBookFest 2011, but it’s not the end of my coverage of the festival on RobAroundBooks. I still have a myriad of official events reports to post, and I will be working my way through these over the next few days. So keep your eyes peeled for those. I leave you with a few picture highlights from the day:

Note: remember to scroll down to the bottom for picture highlights from the day.

It may have been my second last day of EdBookFest, but I had a couple of real highlights to keep the blues away. To kick off was an event in my most favourite of places, the Speigeltent (I especially favour it for the 10:15 events because they’re sponsored by the Bookshop Café and there’s free coffee and danishes on offer ), featuring Man Booker shortlister, Philip Hensher and Irish debut novelist, Belinda McKeon.

Before reading from his latest novel King of the Badgers (Fourth Estate) Hensher told us that he always wanted to write a novel about small town society. His reading gives us an introduction to that small town society.

Up to the lectern next is Belinda McKeon, reading from her debut novel Solace (Picador). Before she started though she told us that the Speigeltent held sentimental value for her, because it was the place where her and her husband had got engaged, years ago…..awwww isn’t that nice?

I enjoyed Belinda’s reading. It was short but powerful and completely engaging. In fact on the strength of this reading alone (because I’ve yet to read Solace, myself), I determined that Belinda is going to be a real star one day.

Question time followed from the chair, Alan Taylor (writer for Herald and Sunday Herald and editor of the Scottish Review of Books), and we found out various things such as the spark for Hensher’s King of the Badgers came from the Shannon Matthews case (he couldn’t the levels of betrayal and deception out of his head). Asked whether he would novelise something like the Madeline McCann case, Hensher replied that certain cases are too tragic that they are best left alone.

Asked about the tension in her novel with regards to rural vs urban Ireland, McKeon reveals that her own life was marked by a similar tension in that she lived on a small farm but had to travel to the city for school and university, so the rural vs urban was always playing off against each other, in her life. There was talk about the Celtic Tiger, that term used to describe the economy of Ireland during it’s period of rapid economic growth between 1995 and 2007, and McKeon, somewhat taken aback to hear that this economic growth during this period was unique to Ireland, responded by saying that she moved to New York in 2005 partly because she found the whole Celtic Tiger thing to be a bit excessive with ‘money and shopping bags from Brown Thomas meaning more than neighbours and family’.

Told that embarrassment was a big theme running through his novel, Hensher revealed that he loves embarrassment because along with boredom it’s the most sincerest of emotions. “Nobody genuinely fakes embarrassment or boredom,” says Hensher. “And as such these two emotions are incredibly valuable to the artist.”

Story hour
Finally, on this the second last day, I managed to catch one of the excellent 4pm Story Shop events, hosted in the Speigeltent by Edinburgh Unesco City of Literature. Managed by the wonderful and larger than life, Anna Burkey, today’s reading was by PhD student, Katie Craig, who read a short story entitled, The Capybara. And boy did she read it. Putting everything into it, including her heart and soul, Craig thoroughly entertained the gathered, making me feel bad that this had been my first and only Story Shop event of EdBookFest 2011 (not completely my fault though, as I usually had another event on at this time). Fantastic stuff, and thanks to Anna and her team (they really do deserve a medal for their Story Shop efforts), you can find out more about Katie Craig, and catch an excerpt of her reading her story, on the Story Shop website.

A sobering hour
My only other event of the day was an evening one in the RBS Corner Theatre, in the presence of Swedish author Steven Sem-Sandberg who comes to EdBookFest with his epic debut, The Emperor of Lies (Faber Books). Based on genuine archived chronicles of life in the Lodz Ghetto – the second largest ghetto created by the Nazis – I knew that this was going to be a harrowing session. It was, and it was made all the more so with the continual presence of rain pelting off the theatre roof.

Hosted by brilliant former Scottish news icon, Sheena McDonald (a nice surprise because I love Sheena McDonald ), it soon became clear, especially after Sem-Sandberg gave a short reading, that The Emperor of Lies is something pretty special; an absolute must read. Sheena even took the time to read out a review – something which she said she rarely does – which compares Sem-Sandberg’s novel in terms of scope and character, to that of Tolstoy’s War & Peace (high praise indeed).

Questions followed with the most pertinent one relating to the central figure of Sem-Sandberg’s novel i.e the abhorrent Jewish elder Mordecai Chaim Rumkowski, who ran the ghetto during its existence, turning it into a major source of supply for the German war machine. Opinion is divided about whether Rumkowski was an enemy of his fellow Lodz Jews or their saviour. Sem-Sandberg was asked for his opinion on this. Very much sitting on the fence he responded by saying that he considers Rumkowski to be both a perpetrator and a victim.

Asked by an audience member why there is still such a fascination with writing about the Holocaust. Sem-Sandberg responded that he had never set out to write a novel about the Holocaust per se. Rather it was during a visit to Lodz Ghetto where the place remains dilapidated, downtrodden and claustrophobic, that he suddenly had the voices and the stories come to him, and a sense that he wanted to write about the place. He ends with the declaration that writing the book has changed is life forever. It doesn’t get more powerful than that does it folks? A truly memorable event.

Here are a few photo highlights from the day:

Note: remember to scroll down to the bottom for picture highlights from the day.

Before I continue with today’s diary entry, I just wanted to offer a quick explanation about my numbering of entries. If you look back on my past EdBookFest Diary posts then you will notice that I have missing days i.e. yesterday, Day #11 for instance. The explanation for this is simple. As much as I’d like to be, I’m not at EdBookFest every single day, and so I cannot offer a diary entry if I’m not there, obviously. Of course I could have adopted a numbering system solely relating to my own attendance, then it would appear, chronologically, as though there are no apparent gaps. In the end though I opted for numbering my entries according to the EdBookFest calendar itself, so you may contrast and compare with anyone else who has written a diary entry for the same days. Crystal clear? No, my head hurts too from writing that. It reads like insurance policy small print . Anyway, let’s get on with today’s highlights.

I had an interesting couple of events lined up today, with the most exciting for me being The Future of the City debate in the Speigeltent later in the evening, but even before I got to my first event I had the pleasure of meeting another publicist, this time Sandra from Picador. Now, I don’t know about you but I get all nervous when I’m meeting new people. It’s not so much about whether I’m going to make a good impression on them or not, because invariably I don’t , but rather because I worry about whether I’m going to connect with them on any sort of level. Well, there was absolutely nothing to fear with Sandra. She’s another one of these warm, charismatic and passionate publicists (aren’t they all?), who with little effort, could get the most adamant of book haters to show some excitement for reading. It was an absolute pleasure to be able to spend some time with her, and to harness some of her energy for literature.

You see, EdBookFest is not just about events. It’s also about getting an opportunity to meet up with some of the most energised, focused and passionate members of the literati, whether they be authors, translators, publicists, fellow readers or whatever. I’ve had the pleasure and honour of meeting some amazing people over these past few days, and it’s not just the authors who have shined in my eyes. I’ve been inspired and motivated beyond words, and that’s solely down to these two weeks in August, when a nondescript patch of grass in Edinburgh’s city centre gets turned into the one of world’s most incredible platforms for literature. It’s at times like these that I can’t summon up enough gratitude for all of the beautiful minds who are behind the organising of this festival, and I’m indebted to each and every one of them for what they bring to me and to every other lover of books, at this time of year.

Literary India
One thing you’ll never see me doing much around here on RobAroundBooks, is banging a drum for all of the usual popular novelists, you know, like Allan Hollinghurst, Val McDirmid, Ian Rankin, Sebastian Barry etc. It’s not that they’re bad writers because they’re most definitely not. It’s just that I find it dull and boring to see the same old authors getting fawned over, all the time. No, I prefer the unsung author who has the ability to touch my heart and soul a lot deeper than most, bringing to me something different, something unique, and indeed something all together more cultural. Take the two novelists who came together at my first event of the day, Rahul Bhattacharya and Mirza Waheed. It pretty much blew me away being in their presence today. Both their literary prowess and their intelligence moved me greatly, reaffirming to me that the most intense and memorable reading experiences comes not from the big names who are always in the spotlight, but rather from those who have to unfairly crouch in the shadows.

Born and raised in the Kashmir city of Srinagar, Mirza Waheed, author of The Collaborator (Viking) grew up during a dark period in the history of Kashmir, when militancy against India was at its highest. Obsessed by the disappearance of many young men who crossed the border into Pakistan to receive training to oppose the Indian Army, Waheed decided to write a novel account, not only to capture a memory of the conflict, but to research what exactly went on during this period. Chillingly, Waheed also reveals that wrote the novel because he wanted to examine what it is to kill, ‘when eliminating people becomes a job; an everyday task.’

By contrast, New Delhi-based Rahul Bhattacharya’s novel, The Sly Company of People Who Care (Picador) is about a cricket commentator who decides to give up India to go and live in the colonial state of Guyana, South America, where the ethnic mix is as diverse and unique as the country itself. It may come as no surprise to hear that Rahul Bhattacharya is a cricket commentator, and that he has spent time living in Guyana, so potentially this novel should read more as a colorful travelogue than anything else.

Waheed begins his reading and immediately brings a great sobriety to the RBS Corner Theatre. He reads from the start of the book, and describes a scene where the chief protagonist of the novel begins his first job for the Indian Army, retrieving id cards from corpses, scattered and piled in the plush valley where he used to spend most of his time as a child, swimming in the river that runs through. It was real punch in the guts stuff from Waheed, as I’m sure you can imagine.

After his reading, chair Namita Gokhale asked Waheed how he managed to contain his pain and anger with an almost lyrical detachment, when political writing from others can’t manage to do so. He responds saying that the key lies in having a principle character who is young, gentle and innocent, and writing from this boy’s point of view helped in controlling his own emotions.

After a quick reading from Waheed from the end of his novel (quite a rather bizarre choice really, but thankfully no spoilers), Bhattacharya read from his book. And if Waheed’s reading was marked with pain and anger, then Bhattacharya’s was a wholly humorous and vibrant affair. He choose to focus on a passage which describes the blossoming friendship between the narrator of the book and a much older man known as Uncle Lance.

What a fantastic reading from Bhattacharya, full of life, wit and colour. We got a real taste of the vibrancy of Bhattacharya’s characters, and of completely different culture, where cooking, eating and drinking feature greatly. It certainly brought a complete polar opposite to Waheed’s reading, and the light relief was very much welcomed for bringing the event back to some kind of balance.

I could go on and tell you everything else that was said during this fantastic event, but if I did then I would be extending this diary entry would reach gargantuan proportions (I’ll be surprised if anyone has manged to read this far), so I’ll leave it at that for now, and invite you to come back in the not-too-distant future (probably next week when EdBookFest has passed and I have more time to write), to read my full report.

After the Bhattacharya and Waheed event it was off to the signing tent to snap a couple of pics of these two fantastic authors. As I was heading that way though, who should I bump into but none other than Penguin publicist Joe Pickering. I’ve known Joe for a while now, mainly through Twitter, and this was my first chance to meet him. What a highlight. Joe’s everything I expected and more. Great guy, Great personality. What more can I say?

Edgelands
And so, with a couple of hours or so to spare it was back to the Speigeltent (my favourite chill out/workplace at this year’s EdBookFest) to do a bit of writing. As good as the Speigeltent is, it brings a sense of detachment from the rest of EdBookFest, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. On the plus side it helps one to concentrate, but on the negative it keeps one from bringing a fuller flavour of a particular day at EdBookFest. To compensate, at various points in my writing, I go off on a wander to see in anything good is happening, and to take a few snaps if the opportunity arises.

It was during one such scouting trip that such an opportunity did arise. I’m currently dipping into Paul Farley & Michael Symmons Roberts’ Edgelands (Jonathan Cape), and finding it immensely entertaining. They had an event today which I sadly couldn’t get to, because it clashed with Rahul Bhattacharya and Mirza Waheed. How chuffed I was then to see them both in the bookshop signing copies of their book. I knew that Symmons Roberts was going to be in the Future of the City event later that evening, but here were both authors together and so I took the opportunity to have a quick chat, and get my copy of Edgelands signed, by both writers.

What can I say? What a pair of thoroughly warm and engaging chaps, Farley and Symmons Roberts are. So nice to spend even the couple of minutes I did with these too. I can see why their book is so engrossing, it shows in their character.

Book sculpture
Getting towards late afternoon a huge buzz went up around Charlotte Square. If you follow the news in Edinburgh then you will know that a mysterious person has, over the past few months, left mysterious book sculptures at key locations round the city, i.e. the National Library of Scotland, the Scottish Poetry Library, the Scottish Storytelling Centre, and The Filmhouse. Today it was the turn of the Edinburgh Book Festival. Two beautiful book sculptures were left today, one for EdBookFest, found on one of the signing tables in the EdBookFest bookshop, the other left at a front desk, for Edinburgh’s UNESCO City of Literature. Luckily I was around to see the one gifted to EdBookFest, and you can catch a few of my random amateur shots, on Flickr (there’s also one in my highlight photos, at the foot of this post). For better photos of both of these gifts, plus ones of the other book sculptures to be found around Edinburgh, please visit this most excellent page from Chris Scott, official EdBookFest photographer. For even more information, check out this Guardian article.

Future of the City
Make no mistake about it folks, ever since I first spotted The Future of the City event in EdBookFest’s programme, I was excited about it. Chaired by the legendary Joan Bakewell, and featuring urbanist Edward L Glaeser, architectural historian Miles Glendinning, and of Edgelands, Michael Symmons Roberts, this looked like being one of THE events of EdBookFest 2011 for me. Tonight was the night of that event and I’m sure you can imagine just how pumped I was to be going along to it.

Unfortunately Edward L Glaeser, the man who really knows about cities, couldn’t make the event, and so it was down to the other two to go it alone. It was a valiant attempt, and both men held their corners well, but for me, well it was all a bit dull and lifeless. It’s true that not everyone is going to like every event they go to at EdBookFest, and I guess that this was the one event that didn’t really work for me. Absolutely nothing against either of the debaters – or indeed the wonderful Joan Bakewell – but the discussion didn’t have any of the vibrancy and passion that I was expecting (Glaeser’s absence certainly didn’t help), and the whole thing, aside from the odd spark of delight, ended up feeling more like a mix between a really dull lecture, and a city council meeting. The less said the better, I suppose.

Anyway, that’s my day #12, I’m not back at EdBookFest until day #15 (Saturday 27th) with Philip Hensher & Belinda Mckeon, and Steve Sem-Sandberg, until then please enjoy some of my picture highlights (click to expand):