I've just returned from one of my favorite events of the year:
the Hay Festival of Literature and the Arts. Every year, some of the world's best authors travel to the small Welsh village of Hay-on-Wye to give talks on literature, writing, and culture. In past years Big Chimp and I have had the pleasure of seeing writers as diverse as Augusten Burroughs, Salman Rushdie, and Christopher Hitchens; and we've attended lectures on topics ranging from current events to Milton's
Paradise Lost.
The village of
Hay-on-Wye is tiny and green, with historical buildings, a castle, and a clock-tower in the centre of town. As its name suggests, it sits on the river Wye, which winds its way along the northern outskirts of Brecon Beacons National Park. The countryside is filled with rolling green hills and valleys, and is populated more by sheep than by people. In the past we've camped in the grounds of Baskerville Hall (yes,
that Baskerville Hall), but this year we decided to stay in a hotel about an hour's drive outside of Hay along winding, narrow country roads.
Highlights of this year's festival begin with the first event we went to: a talk given by
Magnus Toren, who runs the
Henry Miller Memorial Library in Big Sur, California. We were eager to hear this lecture not only because we are fans of Henry Miller (I'm currently halfway through
Tropic of Cancer, which is the first I've read of Miller's books), but also because by chance we stumbled upon the Henry Miller Memorial Library on our road trip through Big Sur in January 2009. The talk was small and informal, and, aside from the supremely uncomfortable chairs, really, really enjoyable. Toren talked about Henry Miller's life and his views on writing and being a writer. Especially interesting were tales of the censorship trials that occurred when
Tropic of Cancer was first published in the U.S. in 1961 (26 years after it was published in France). Magnus told us that occasionally tourists visiting the Henry Miller Memorial Library ask him why there are no photos of Marilyn Monroe on the walls. Then he picked up a guitar and sang us a song called "Marilyn Monroe Didn't Marry Henry Miller." It stayed in my head for the rest of the festival.
The next event we went to was children's author
Charlie Higson being interviewed about his new book,
The Enemy, which is the first novel in a children's horror series. Higson was funny and insightful, discussing the horror genre and the idea of writing horror for children. He also talked about the differences between children's books in the U.S. and children's books in the U.K. In the U.S., according to Higson, there is an overwhelming idea that children's books ought to teach kids clear moral lessons. If novels are ambiguous in this sense, libraries and schools may refuse to stock the books, which is a chance most publishers are not willing to take. Higson went on to say that
The Enemy had to be edited for the U.S. edition, so that the children are two years older, and some of the more graphic scenes are toned down. This made me a bit sad for American kids; books ought to be fun and entertaining, not watered-down, toned-down, and censored.
The final event we attended, was, in my mind, the best. It was an interview with
Yann Martel, the Canadian author of
Life of Pi, which won
the Booker Prize in 2002. Martel talked about his new book,
Beatrice and Virgil, an allegorical novel about the Holocaust. During the interview Martel was eloquent and seemed intensely smart as he discussed the difficulties of exploring an issue as sensitive as the Holocaust. He also offered intelligent refutations of criticism he has received for
Beatrice and Virgil. His argument is that like all historical events, the Holocaust must be looked at from different angles in order for us to fully understand it; history must be a dialogue, a cacophony of voices rather than a strict and unchangeable narrative. My favorite anecdote came at the end of the interview. Not long ago the prime minister of Canada was asked what his favorite book was. He responded, "The
Guinness Book of World Records." This depressed Martel so much that he began to send the prime minister a copy of a great literary work every two weeks. His argument was that he didn't want someone who had power over him to be someone who never read literature. As a contrast, he related another anecdote. He told us that a couple of weeks ago, out of the blue, he had received a handwritten note from Barack Obama. Obama said that he had just finished reading Life of Pi with his daughter, and they had really enjoyed it, and they preferred the version with animals, and thank you for writing it. I can't even explain how happy hearing that story made me feel, but maybe this photograph captures it:
And so, loaded down with far too many new books, we left Hay for another year.
