Byron Bay Writers Festival
2009: 'If I'd known this, I would have brought fewer
underpants.'
(This is a skeleton blog -- I just don't have time
to write a literary one. And you may wonder why it's so late -- I came back
from Byron Bay weeks ago, on a Sunday. Well, I was exhausted, so I slept for two days. Then
I spent Tuesday to Thursday recording the audiobook of Unimagined, coming home
from the studio worn out each day. Then I had a job interview that Friday, which was successful,
with an immediate start after that weekend. Then I had to find all those funny
clothes I hadn't worn for months -- you know, shirts with collars, and jackets
with matching trousers. Then, at my new job, they said they didn't like me
writing literary blogs during the day, or any kind of blogs -- they wanted me to do
programme management. That wasn't made clear in the interview. I come home exhausted every day. The only reason I'm
finally doing this now is that I'm going to Bali next weekend for Ubud 2009, and
then I would be two literary festival blogs behind, and that would be
awful.)
SATURDAY 1 AUGUST
Taxi to Heathrow and Etihad to Abu Dhabi. Service
wonderful, food delicious.
SUNDAY 2 AUGUST
Etihad to Sydney. The Australian immigration
officer is so friendly: 'Come on in', he says, beckoning.
The Sebel Pier One Hotel -- one of my favourite hotels in all the world. Because if I'm here, I must be in Sydney --
one of my favourite places in all the world.
http://www.sebelpierone.com.au/
MONDAY 3 AUGUST
Walk over Sydney Harbour Bridge in the morning --
my favourite exercise.
In the afternoon, walk over to Pier Nine, where my
Australian publisher Murdoch Books is based. The lovely Mary-Jayne House takes
me in a taxi to Gleebooks, where I have my speaking event.
I'm introduced by Richard Morris -- the British
Consul-General. This is quite surreal.
Afterwards, Benjamin Gilmour takes me to dinner
with some friends of his. Ben is the maker of a superb film, Son of
a Lion, which is being released in the UK in November (US to be
decided). Ben, a paramedic by profession, had never made a film before. He
took a camera to the Northwest Frontier Province of Pakistan, enlisted
some actors ... and the result is stunning. http://www.sonofalion.com/
This is an important film, for many reasons. The scene where the men are discussing whether it would be justifiable to violate their ancient (pre-Islamic) code of honour and commitment to protection of guests, by betraying Bin Laden to the Americans, is very insightful. If only all of this had been understood better, earlier, we might have reached a satisfactory conclusion in that region by now. (Remember, Bin Laden used to be a 'good guy'. He worked with the Americans to supply Stinger missiles to the Afghans, and helped to drive out the damned Commies.)
TUESDAY 4 AUGUST
Lovely day around Sydney. Did I mention that I
love this place? Walk over Harbour Bridge in the morning.
Ben Gilmour takes me for a wonderful drive around
Sydney and the beach areas.
Evening interview on ABC Radio with Phillip Adams.
He says, of me, 'What a delightful fella'. No, Phillip, you are the
delightful fellow. I've never had an interviewer who was better informed and
prepared. Sometimes I can tell that all they've done is read the jacket of the
book and then extrapolated, but Phillip Adams really knew his stuff. He is
very articulate, intelligent, humorous and gracious.
http://www.abc.net.au/rn/latenightlive/stories/2009/2648076.htm
WEDNESDAY 5 AUGUST
Fly from Sydney to Ballina Airport. It's a
delightful little airport with two 'gates' (French windows). Watch them take
our suitcases out of the airplane and bring them over to us.
My itinerary from the Festival says that I will be
met at the airport and driven to Byron Bay. No sign of my limo anywhere. Make
inquiries at the various transport desks. A shuttle bus driver has my name on
his list.
Dropped off at my hotel, the Byron at Byron Bay.
It's a beautiful resort, owned by John and Lyn Parche. The front desk staff are
implausibly welcoming.
Then, John Parche introduces himself and subjects me to such an onslaught of friendliness that I am completely decimated by it. Never in all my years of business (and now literary) travel has the owner of a hotel given me such a friendly welcome. Coming from London, I am woefully ill-equipped to deal with Australian friendliness, but this assault at the Bryon at Byron Bay is the most devastating attack yet. Searching deep inside my soul, I reach the inevitable and insightful conclusion: I don't have anywhere near enough friendliness inside me to fight back with -- I am a shallow, superficial, ego-centric and self-absorbed person, compared to these people. They'd better give me a nice room.
There's a washer-dryer in my rainforest apartment. Dammit.
If I'd known this, I would have brought fewer underpants.
Have a lovely dinner in the hotel restaurant with Jeni Caffin, the Festival director (who
invited me when we met in Bali), and other sponsors.
THURSDAY 6 AUGUST
Wonderful breakfast and a walk around to burn it off.
My first event is on the schools' day of the Festival. I am hosted by the famous writer Colin Bowles, who is actually three writers:
My first event is on the schools' day of the Festival. I am hosted by the famous writer Colin Bowles, who is actually three writers:
I tell the school kids that my book has many
themes, but we only have time to cover one. So I give them a choice of five, and
ask them to yell out their preference: Religion, Politics, Sociology, History,
Sex.
Fortunately, they go with the only one I'd bothered
to prepare for. As Colin Bowles comments, it is the teachers who swing it.
In the evening is the opening night party,
including the keynote address by Geoffrey Robertson -- famous human rights lawyer. The
huge crowd -- of writers, festival sponsors, guests and others -- settles down
in silence and gives full attention to his speech.
After 25 minutes ...
He's certainly eloquent.
After 50 minutes ...
He certainly has a lot to say.
After 75 minutes ...
Ye Gods! I thought he was a human rights
lawyer! Doesn't he oppose torture? What is this, if it isn't torture? I wonder
what they're going to give us to eat? And when?
FRIDAY 7 AUGUST
The delightful Wendy Broome, of Southern Cross
University, is my designated driver and gives me a ride in from the Byron at
Byron Bay. The traffic queue to get into the Festival is unbelievable. It's a
literary festival, not a pop concert. This is amazing. She drives in
through the Exit, waves some ID at the steward, says something about a VIP, and
drives me all the way to the Writers' Tent (or Green Room).
I'm on a panel session on ABC Radio, in their tent,
at 9 AM. Our host asks me to read from Unimagined, which I do, with
pleasure. (I need to practise for the audiobook I'm recording very
soon.)
Then I have the obligatory 'Muslims and the West'
session, with Irfan Yusuf (http://planetirf.blogspot.com/) and
Abbas El-Zein (http://abbaselzein.com/).
I apologise to the audience that I'm not very academic or journalistic -- I'm
just an ordinary fella. They don't seem to mind.
My signing queue is quite good. A middle-aged Malaysian woman asks me to sign a copy for her daughter.
My signing queue is quite good. A middle-aged Malaysian woman asks me to sign a copy for her daughter.
In the evening, I have a more intimate event --
'Wish You Were Here', in an art gallery. A small group of writers sit on two
sofas and chat in front of the audience. Lana Penrose is utterly gorgeous (http://www.myspace.com/firewoman111).
Her latest book is about looking for love. (I wonder if she's still
looking? I'll have to read the last chapter.)
SATURDAY 8 AUGUST
Wendy Broome gives me a ride in. She says that the
manager of the Buddha Bar in Byron Bay (http://www.buddhabarbyronbay.com.au/)
said to her last night: 'There was some writer called Imran on the radio
this morning, and he was so funny ...' What? There's another Imran at
the Festival?
Hang around the Festival all day. It has a
fairground atmosphere and energy, but it's a literary festival. It's
utterly unique. I love it. Apparently, some people are disappointed it's not
in the same garden setting as last year (which was flooded by torrential rain --
no wonder Jeni seemed so nervous about the weather), but I think this is just
wonderful. And the weather is perfect. Live in the moment, people.
In the evening, I am a participant in the Writers' Cabaret, in a crowded nightclub. Since when was I a stand-up comedian? Since I started saying 'Yes' to everything. Screw it, just do it.
Sandy Gandhi is the very distinguished compère.
SUNDAY 9 AUGUST
In the morning, I'm on the panel of 'Putting humour
on the page', with Denise Scott (comedian), Tom Gleeson (comedian) and Michael
Cathcart (historian). It's not fair -- the historian and me up against two
pro's. I do my best.
I notice an Astonishingly Beautiful Woman in the audience. I can't take my eyes off her. Centre aisle seat, next to a grey haired woman. No man with her. I would so love to meet her.
I notice an Astonishingly Beautiful Woman in the audience. I can't take my eyes off her. Centre aisle seat, next to a grey haired woman. No man with her. I would so love to meet her.
My signing queue is quite good.
Every time I enter the bookshop, someone asks me to sign a book. I keep casually wandering in there.
Every time I enter the bookshop, someone asks me to sign a book. I keep casually wandering in there.
In the afternoon, I'm on the panel of 'To market,
to market: what it takes to sell a book', with Colin Bowles and gorgeous Lana Penrose (I
pull my stomach in tight and keep it in during the entire session -- I can
hardly breathe, let alone address the audience). My signing queue is
non-existent, whereas the others have long queues. Why? Oh -- they've run out
of copies of Unimagined.
In the Writers' Tent, Jeni tells me that
Unimagined is the Festival's Number One Bestseller.
(I love you, Jeni. Thanks for inviting me, when we met in Bali. Janet,
thank you for inviting me to Bali, after we met in Sydney. Wendy, thank you for
inviting me to Sydney, after we met in Edinburgh. Catherine, thank you for
inviting me to Edinburgh, after you read my book. I love literary festival
directors -- except for Peter.) (Stuff you, Peter, I didn't really want to go to
Hay, anyway. Sent you four copies and you put them in the secondhand
bookshop.)
There's a Festival closing party at The Rails in Byron Bay. It's bittersweet. I'm hungry and eat hot chips.
In a surreal moment, the Astonishingly Beautiful Woman emerges from the crowd and comes up to me, and then she sits with me for a little while, and we talk, and I try not to drown in her eyes, until she says she has to go; her parents are leaving and she's with them -- she's visiting from Melbourne. (Okay, stop what you're thinking. She was a grown-up. Grown-ups can have parents too, you know. She was almost thirty.) She says she'll e-mail me and blurs back into the crowd like a mirage -- an oasis of beauty in the barren desert of life. The birds stop singing and the sun stops shining (which you'd expect this late at night, anyway.)
I step outside. It's cold, suddenly.
(When is the Melbourne Literary Festival? Who's the Director?)
(When is the Melbourne Literary Festival? Who's the Director?)
MONDAY 10 AUGUST
Wendy's colleague, Angela McCormik, gives me a ride
to Southern Cross University, where I give a talk hosted by Dr Baden Offord, and
afterwards have lunch with Professor Bee Chen Goh -- the Malaysian woman who
asked me to sign a copy for her daughter. It's a small world, and it's getting
smaller.
TUESDAY 11 AUGUST
Visit the famous lighthouse, walk along beach ....
Finally make it into the legendary town of Byron Bay ... The hippies found it and the yuppies bought it.
In Byron Bay, a woman looks at me, smiles, and points me out to her friend. Obviously, two cultured attendees of literary festivals.
Meet a guitar-playing Geordie sitting on a rock, who takes this photo.
Finally make it into the legendary town of Byron Bay ... The hippies found it and the yuppies bought it.
In Byron Bay, a woman looks at me, smiles, and points me out to her friend. Obviously, two cultured attendees of literary festivals.
In Byron Bay, Byron Bay,
I was famous for a day ...
Not for my poetry, alas.
I have my aura photo taken at a store called
Crystal Castle. She interprets it for me. It looks good. I'm at least one rung up from the bottom
level.
WEDNESDAY 12 AUGUST
A final walk around this wonderful resort. I hope
to return.
Fly back to Sydney.
THURSDAY 13 AUGUST
A day at the Blue Mountains.
FRIDAY 14 AUGUST
I love Sydney, and I never tire of walking around
this place. The Sebel Pier One is a wonderful hotel in every way, but
especially in location.
SATURDAY 15 AUGUST
Good bye, Australia. I truly love you -- you are a
wonderful county and an extraordinarily gracious people. I hope to return again.
Etihad to Abu Dhabi. Service wonderful, food
delicious.
SUNDAY 16 AUGUST
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