As October beckons, so does the yearly event of Manchester Literature Festival happening all across the month with a whole host of renowned writers and authors, ready to pass on their pearls of writerly wisdom to an enrapt audience. So, as the month winds down, let’s recap on some of the events that we attended.
Ekow Eshun: An historic journey of Black masculinity
Ekow Eshun immediately captivated his audience in the intimate room of the International Anthony Burgess Foundation, his calm allure radiating from the moment he took his seat on the small stage.
Beginning the event with a reading, Eshun embodied the narrative, speaking as if the words were flowing from his mind in the moment. His enticing intonations captured the lyricism of the novel, metamorphosing (in his words) “a non-fiction novel” into a poetic landscape. It was a pleasure to listen to someone so entrancing and situated as a novelist.
Within The Strangers, Eshun stated his “job of imagination” to uncover the gaps that he saw so preveniently in Black history, and his emotional connection to his narrative was evident. Scattering personal essays and experiences throughout the novel, Eshun solidifies the renowned importance of his novel, presenting the journey of Black masculinity from the 19th to the 21st century.
Following the lives of Ira Aldridge, Matthew Henson, Frantz Fanon, Malcolm X and Justin Fashanu, The Strangers retells famous moments from their legacies from a new personal perspective, unlocking, as Eshun put it, “how they felt, not what they did”.
The complexity, vulnerability and sensitivity of his historic Black male characters were refreshing and unfeigned portrayals, achieving exactly what Eshun set out to do – rewrite their legacies. Capturing the raw and intimate experience, Eshun placed the audience within the emotionally arduous affairs his characters were subjected to.
I think I speak for the whole audience when I say Ekow Eshun was enlightening.
Words by Willow Fowler
“I love my characters dearly, but they’re all a bit ridiculous”: Susanna Clarke on genre fiction and Kate Bush
As we entered Manchester Central Library on a damp October evening, ready to see Susanna Clarke, we were seated under pink lights to the comfortingly familiar vocal tones of Kate Bush. We clapped as Clarke and the interviewer walk out, who accounts for their lateness by describing the Library as being “a bit Jonathan Strange” – “or a bit Piranesi”, Clarke cut in with a smile.
Clarke went on to discuss Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, her debut novel, further, describing its origins as being partly from a dream she had, partly from the image of two quarrelling magicians. Jane Austen additionally “had a pull” on the novel, with Clarke voicing her belief in her ability to replicate that form of dialogue.
After some discussion, Clarke went on to read a short excerpt from The Wood in Midwinter, her newest piece of writing. This led into some discussion around the novella’s genre, with Clarke describing fantasy granting the chance to look “beyond the human”, functioning as a means of “escaping reality”
Indeed, the escapism of arts and culture was a consistent undercurrent amidst Clarke’s interview. When describing various authors she had read as a child and was influenced by, Clarke expressed a continual desire for “something that took me away” – even describing hearing Ted Hughes read from his poetry at an event as if it “felt like it was coming out of the earth”. Her elaboration on why Kate Bush was playing before the event also expressed this sentiment: “[Bush] and Bowie just lifted us out of it”.
After a while, the discussion turned to Clarke’s struggles with chronic fatigue syndrome, as the interviewer expressed that Clarke had stated that it was “quite important, actually” that it be discussed. “Over 20 years… there was a long time when I couldn’t write” Clarke described, stating that it required “energy and consistency” to write a novel – “I couldn’t make decisions”.
She described how “being around creative people” on the set of the Jonathan Strange adaptation was “a huge encouragement” to returning to writing, and how viewing Piranesi as something “doable” led to its publication in 2021 – although, as Clarke admitted later in the talk, editing Piranesi proved to be a nightmare.
It was on this hopeful note that the talk ended – and the overlong queue for book signings began.
Words by Anna Pirie
Gillian Clarke’s poetry masterclass – Watching words turn to art
I was incredibly fortunate to have been chosen to spend just over an hour learning the art of poetry with Gillian Clarke – or as much as you can learn in an hour. In the reading room at John Rylands, devoid of windows or noise at that time of day, we entered a sort of ethereal world where the miraculous quality of words turned diaphanous.
Gillian Clarke’s person is wise, kind, important. She provided us with a prompt and talked us through it, carefully adding more and more to the room, watching as we scribbled. We had the whole hour to write a poem based on a memory of a person and a place. What came to me in that room was a memory of my old school at Christmas, the dark panelled walls of John Rylands resembling the dining hall, the chandelier alike the ones that would have lined our heads – sat with my Classics classmates and watching the choir rehearse.
I loved Gillian’s technique; through her own scribbles, she conjured up more and more details from us from within the realm of our own minds. She proceeded to talk to each of us, looking through our poems and offering snippets of advice. It was nerve-racking, really. I was impressed by her ability to read my messy chicken scratch. She whispered my poem aloud indulgently, and hearing it told by her made it seem more like a poem.
At the end, we had the opportunity to read in front of the rest of the group. I was honestly amazed by the talent of the people in the room – and since the group was a mixed demographic, it felt heartwarming to have verses read to me from within their own balmy, unique memories. The entire class felt very intimate, which I loved, almost like a secret society of some sort. Gillian ended the event by saying, “I feel as if we should all go out to dinner together, then meet again to write some more poetry.” She even very lovingly signed my notebook, right below my poem.
Words by Maariya Daud
Earth Hymns with Carol Ann Duffy
As Carol Ann Duffy and John Sampson enter the stage, both garbed in black, Duffy quickly seats herself, as Sampson points a long, trumpet-esque instrument at the audience and begins to play several, quick, staccato tones through it. There’s humour in the theatricality of the performance, which continues as Sampson quickly throws the instrument aside to pull out another one, and another one, and another one, the audience applauding after each mini-performance.
Duffy’s manner, when she takes her turn to perform, is markedly more serious than Sampson, as she performs rapid-fire poetry, a hand in her pocket as she reads. Duffy’s manner is unceremonious, looking up from the text every so often, but rarely to pause. Many of her poems focus on bees (see Virgil’s Bees), perhaps chosen in particular given their association with Manchester, while the undercurrent of arts and culture is featured throughout.
Some of the poems are accompanied by Sampson, who plays simple tunes as Duffy reads. Sampson also reads a couple of poems himself, in one instance giving a humorous anecdote about Norman MacCraig before giving a bright, spirited reading of MacCraig’s poem ‘Toad’.
This isn’t to say that there’s no fun to Duffy’s performance, however. In one instance, she introduces a sestina of hers and mentions that she asked Sampson to pick which words she repeated. Sampson reads them aloud, all of them playful and some rather vulgar, and Duffy launches into the poem, decidedly more animated with this one. The sestina is a big hit with the audience, who laugh along at each word.
Even after Duffy reverts back to solemnity, there’s more lightheartedness in her subsequent readings. And, to our surprise, the performance closes with Sampson playing ‘Hallelujah’ on trumpet, indicating for the audience to sing along at the choruses. We leave thoroughly satisfied.
Words by Anna Pirie
Rebecca Kuang had us in a Chokehold at the Manchester Literature Festival
Rebecca Kuang had the crowd hooked from the very beginning. She began by retelling the story of her train journey into Manchester, and how the train was on fire – no one was in danger and the train was evacuated – thankfully!
From there she was asked about her writing process and ability to shapeshift into different genres. From fantasy to magical realism to historical fiction to contemporary fiction, this woman can do it all. Kuang was also asked about which of her books she feels the closest to, to which she responded saying that she doesn’t feel emotionally connected to any of her published novels. She went on to say that once they have been through several editing processes, they no longer feel like her own; she is less protective over them, and is the most attached to her writing during the first drafts when the story is malleable and figuring itself out.
After alluding to her next upcoming release in 2025 – a return to the fantasy genre with Katabasis – which she said was inspired by Lewis Caroll’s Alice in Wonderland, we delved into the reception of her latest release Yellowface. Kuang read an extract from the opening chapter of the novel.
After reading, she was asked to speak on the novel’s protagonist, June Hayward. Kuang articulated the complexity of her character so precisely: June is not entirely evil as was suggested (and that none of her characters are), but rather, there are aspects of her that Kuang herself relates to and took inspiration from. She said that writing June was like having a spiral of intrusive thoughts that kept transgressing: instead of rationalising, June acts on each of her thoughts until the worst possible outcome is her reality.
Kuang’s honesty and, at times, very humorous responses were so eloquent that it’s safe to say this was my favourite literary event I have been to thus far.
Words by Talulla-Rose Quinton
George Monbiot: How much do you really know about Neoliberalism?
Manchester Literature Festival made the perfect decision by having Jeanette Winterson host this talk. As someone who was truly born to entice an audience, her alluring wit and matter-of-fact personality ricocheted off George Monbiot and the somewhat pessimistic discourse of neoliberalism, transforming what could have been a mentally taxing talk into a mesmerising and entertaining conversation.
Beginning the talk with a comedic introduction to the subject and Monbiot himself, Winterson set a comical yet capturing atmosphere in the HOME theatre. Whilst continuing this throughout the talk, the harsh substance of their conversation was never undermined, but made very consumable.
It was clear how much Monbiot had researched for this novel, his knowledge radiating from him as Winterson fuelled the conversation with questions of capitalism and neoliberalism (or the invisible doctrine, I should say).
Monbiot attributed Manchester for its history of birthing radical ideologies since the days when Marx and Engels walked these streets – making the Manchester Literature Festival the paradigmatic setting for this talk.
Not only was Monbiot and Winterson’s blend of personality a pleasure to listen to, but they also created the most informative book event I have attended – allowing me to leave HOME theatre with a new sense of what neoliberalism is, and much to ponder. It was almost as if I had just attended the most entertaining lecture of my education.
That, in itself, is reason enough to recommend George Monbiot’s writing, and if you ever have the opportunity to immerse yourself in Jeanette Winterson’s work, please do not let that pass you.
Words by Willow Fowler
