January 2008
We had a glorious start to the New Year and thanks to all who made it such a great night. We are so lucky to have David Almond, he is a major literary figure of international renown but you could forget that because he is so very modest and funny, chatting freely with everybody. Despite the demands of such huge success, he always gets out there on miserable nights and supports small local events. We were extremely grateful that he agreed to do a workshop as well as reading and because he didn't want to turn anyone away, to do a very big workshop.
In a freezing cold room he somehow managed to put us all at our ease and was an inspiration. He has the gift of intimacy. Making us all feel that we had a right to do it, he encouraged us to enjoy ourselves and play with writing. He painlessly prodded stories out of us and gave us strategies for finding countless more no matter how blocked and rusty we felt. At first we were all a little shy, backing away (imperceptibly) but by the end we were all trying to get on his knee.
Lubna Iqbal read first, a quietly emotional, atmospheric story that drew us into the domestic world of a Pakistani household in crisis. Juxtaposing the banality of everyday life with the sadness of what is happening, waiting for someone to die, she explored ideas of familial obligation, cultural shifts and personal identity that although very specifically located, she made universal. How are you supposed to feel when you go back to a family place, how do you negotiate re-entering a culture, how does everyone fit together…?
Next up was award winning Romi Jones, who described the world as it feels if you're a disaffected music-addicted youth living in your car without a stereo. Mixing sharp observational writing with mystery and possibility a lovely, taut story unfolded.
During the break we had the quiz which was won by Claire Lynn after a nail-biting sudden death question which saw rival brain boxes/ guess boxes vanquished. Until next time…
It's said that when he's not being an excellent performer with a great repertoire, Paul Summers lives in a complicated box that fires Gateshead. He hit the stage after the break and is definitely energetic, not annoyingly energetic but passionate and fun. He had us laughing one minute and wobbly lipped the next. He does sad as convincingly as funny, and can explore quietly with as much commitment as he can furiously nail what needs nailing.
David Almond was the final reader and he was superb. He read a poignant story about a young boy, Slog, dealing with grief, who fervently believes his recently dead father will, as promised, come back to visit him. He meets a man down on his luck and is convinced that this man is his father come to visit, although his friend Davey isn't so sure. Is the tramp just being shrewd when he comes up with the right answers or is there something else going on? Beautifully read, we are taken right into the story, you can sense the two boys and the old man, hear him eat and feel yourself salivating over the savaloy with everything. We see the stranger's delicacy and the ferocity with which he protects Slog. He could be inhabited by the spirit of the dead father or he could be someone trying to help a little boy, the ambiguity is maintained throughout but both possibilities are quite magical. It was a story of hope and optimism despite dealing unflinchingly with death and raw sadness and it sent us off happy on a January night.
