Unfortunately, it’s time to say goodbye to yet another fantastic Dublin Writers Festival. As well as Dublin City Council and the Arts Council of Ireland, I’d like to say thanks to all the writers, musicians, singer songwriters and festival goers for making this year’s event so spectacular.

I’d also like to give special thanks to Kristi Thompson, lifeisafestival, Caitríona Ní Gháirbhí and Louise Owens for their contributions to this year’s blog.

Until next year, happy reading.

After eight fantastically varied readings, stretching from the comical to the exceedingly dark, Tom answered questions from Conor McPherson and the audience.

Was it easier writing your first few plays?

“Yes. You need to enjoy amateur status, before you declare yourself as professional. That’s when the stress hits. In the early days, writing was a therapeutic way to deal with issues such as anger. It was an escape also.”

You went from notoriety to a completely different approach. Why was this?

“I didn’t want to get typecast. After the success of Whistle in the dark, people had lots of preconceived ideas about me. There was a lot of partying in London at the time and people almost expected me to come in and smash a bottle over their heads. But the violence in that play was emotional, apart from the bottle.”

What was the most important play you wrote?

“Famine – it was a public landmark. I expected a wave of plays with the same theme afterwards, but there wasn’t. I was surprised by that.”

Was a book easier to write than a play, bearing in mind the crazy world of theatre?

“My first instinct is theatre. The book was accidental. I think many playwrights are in the business because syntax and grammar eludes us – it certainly does me. Maybe that’s why we turn to theatre. I realized very young that I wouldn’t be able to emulate the best prose writers. But I’d return to novel writing again.”

Your characters often stretch beyond those of other writers. What do you aim for with your characters?

“I aim to satisfy myself. As a writer, there can be lots of different endings, but this is only the case when you don’t know your characters well enough. I want to go beyond and I’m glad that you think my characters do. Sometimes they need the bizarre. I have noticed that the harsher my characters are, the more romantic they are. The cracks show and so does the pain of being gullible. The more romantically realistic my characters are, the harsher it is when the letdown comes.”

On writing about the holocaust

Yann reveals that “Henry is a construct, meant to imitate the Jewish lifestyle”. He didn’t want to “write outside of it, because none of us are outside of it”. Yann argues that if we think about or are in dialogue with events such as the holocaust, then we have an automatic involvement. “I wanted the teller of the tale within the tale to be involved – I wanted the event and the character to be in the same room.”

The unusual approach

When addressing the holocaust, historical realism is the approach most commonly used. However, Yann has moved away using allegory or fable as a basis, with animals as central characters. “I thought – what if I use an animal? I can approach the topic using an animal disguise. Then I immediately felt more comfortable” he says. As he points out, “true writers of fiction – those who intend to tell the truth – are quite rare”, going on to applaud the works of John Boyne, David Grossman and Art Spiegelman.

Animals as characters

Yann explained that he liked using animals as characters because they are “veiled in innocence. When they suffer, we feel for them”. Accordingly, animal characters can be used to convey emotion because “there are no preconceived ideas. A tiger can be just a tiger, or a symbol for something, but everyone has preconceived ideas about a dentist”. Animal characters are an excellent medium through which to tell the story, acting as “mirrors which hopefully help us to see our own humanity.”

What is Stephen Harper reading?

For the last few years, Yann has been sending Prime Minister Stephen Harper a novel every fortnight, because “I believe he has not read a book since high school.” Yann strongly believes that part of the role of a Prime Minister is “to dream about creating a better world” and that central to being able to do this is to be “nourished by a muse”. You can read more about this project on his website www.whatisstephenharperreading.ca – a member of the audience is waiting for an Irish writer to follow suit!

Chairman Niall MacMonagle set the tone for this event addressing the dreaded second novel, pointing out that the second house, the second baby, the second car, the second novel– all can be problematic. Kudos to the selection committee for presenting two distinctly different authors. Paul Murray gave a “bawdy humour alert” before his reading of Skippy Dies, presenting the comedic, probing, often daft but entertainingly real mind-set of youth; while John Lynch commanded absolute, rapt silence during his reading from Falling Out of Heaven, a painful portrait of the fallout a man experiences after being raised by a parent with a dark addiction.

Niall: Did either of you have a Harper Lee moment, fearing your first novel might be your last?

John Lynch, known for his work as an actor (Sliding Doors, In the Name of the Father) said he was so caught up in the adventure of writing his first novel, with the intention of hiding it under the bed if it was bad, that he didn’t have time to think of a second novel. Writing, for him, was about definition, defining emotion. It’s where the imagination and emotion meet, putting names to these events.

Niall introduced Paul Murray as someone who writes big books on a big canvas. Skippy Dies, 700 pages, took seven years to complete. Paul said he knew it would take a long time, admitting that when his agent initially signed him for a two-book deal he didn’t have a name let alone an idea for his second book. Paul did have the confidence for this ambitious project, and encouraged all writers to have faith in themselves, and sit down every day to write.

John Lynch dove into his writing from a slightly different angle in that he’s never had a creative writing course. His work as an actor has helped in creating characters and scenarios, saying that as a child he used to enact death scenes for his classmates: “death by poison” or “death by gunshot”. Joseph Campbell’s books gave him a good foundation, as well, ex. Hero With a Thousand Faces.

Niall: Were there any difficulties writing about Seabrook College, which is loosely based on your alma mater Blackrock College?

Paul said he was initially worried, but he wanted to write about what he knows. The Celtic Tiger boom was an important moment in recent history, bringing a kind of aristocratic entitlement, greed, and lack of care for society at large that we hadn’t really seen in Ireland.

John’s inspiration for Falling Out of Heaven was in part from the saying, “We all fall out of the heaven, just that some of us remember the fall.” The novel begins when his protagonist is in an alcohol induced psychosis, believing he is literally falling through the sky. As the story continues his memories build. John shared that he’d had an issue with alcohol and stopped drinking 11 years ago. It was important for him to go into the darkest places along with his protagonist, with graphic honesty, but to leave a “trail of bread crumbs, to find my way back out”.

Many thanks to Paul Murray and John Lynch– for showing us the places you go in your writing.

Guest blog post by Kristi Thompson

I was in a state of delirium last evening and still am at the stunning presentation by IMRAM, on stage at The Sugar Club.  First, I want to say how wonderfully kind and thoughtful the staff were to me (I had a physical difficulty).  Then the poetry, music and visual input were outstanding.  I am familiar with the work of the poets present but the music composed and played by Séan Óg was spectacular – it had the effect of the first River Dance on me.  The playing of Ag Críost an Síol was sensational, with ornamentation, echo effects and superb skill. I was also so fortunate to meet Biddy Jenkinson in person and to hear that epic poem abot Seán Ó Neachtain and old Dublin. Now I have run out of words!  Míle, míle buíochas don oíche shonntasach seo

Slán,
Críona

Thank you so much to Caitríona Ní Gháirbhí for this blog post.

Following the format of readings, discussion and then Q&A with the audience, I was struck by how each of these authors was driven by the desire to make seemingly complex writers more accessible for the modern reader.

I came away intrigued and desperate to get stuck into the pages of these texts. Chairperson Evelyn Conlon summed up the event when she said “the amazing thing about this event is that when you read each book, you’ll be forced to read more.”

Sarah Bakewell on Montaigne:

Sarah discovered Montaigne’s book by accident; it was the only one she could find in English when travelling. Providing a wonderful account of Montaigne’s life, she admitted that his “inventiveness and quirkiness, with an undercurrent of skepticism” compelled her to write about his essays. He “used the world to read himself” and “was aware of his own flaws” she explained. This is certainly something any reader can identify with. One thing that particularly struck me was the opportunity to read about the writers that he read. This gives Sarah’s book an unusually special cyclical quality.

Audience question: “If you hadn’t picked up the Montaigne book at the airport, what would you be doing now?”

Sarah: “That’s a great question. I have no idea. Sometimes things choose people. Making choices and taking paths absentmindedly is one of the great mysteries of life. We should let the world be, rather than theorizing. Montaigne is described as a philosopher, but he wasn’t prescriptive, he just wanted to improve and write about How to live a good life.”

Declan Kiberd on James Joyce:

Declan is well known for his “anonymous celebrity” as the Professor of English at UCD and it was an honour to listen as he gave an insight into Joyce’s life and how it affected his work. He described Ulysses as “a great work of formal audacity and brilliant language, but also on how to live life.” Declan used examples of plot, character, theme and inner dialogue to highlight how Joyce had intended Ulysses to be a book that should be accessible to everyone. He discussed Joyce’s autodidactic approach and his rejection of Bohemia, due to his belief that “art disconnected from life wouldn’t prosper.”

Audience question: Do you think that good fiction is, in fact, truth?

Declan: “Absolutely! Fiction is an absolute immersion in fact. It’s a fictional enactment, scaling reality down to make it credible.”

Ruth Padel on Darwin:

I hadn’t realized that Ruth is in fact the great granddaughter of Darwin – certainly a great motivator for writing about his life. But what amazed me was that she chose to study his life through poetry based on Darwin’s words. This is, I believe, one of the most astoundingly beautiful ideas I’ve heard of for some time. Ruth gave us a wonderful insight into Darwin’s personality, but she also revealed the “role of imagination in how he addressed the world”, bringing this to life with a reading of his reaction to seeing phosphorous on the water for the very first time.

Audience question: Are poetry and science linked?

Ruth: “Poetry and science are closely connected because they have the same aim; to present the world to others. The difference is that scientists never get to the truth because they’re always looking for the next answer.”

The robust and intelligent dialogue this evening with Natasha Walter and Susan McKay was both inspiring and thought-provoking.  After a comic introduction by Chairwoman Anthea McTiernan, which earned enthusiastic laughter from a packed audience, Natasha read a exerpt from her book, Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism.

It has been over 10 years since Natasha wrote ‘The New Feminism”, and the lack of progress and enlightenment in society since the late nineties, coupled with raising a young daughter, has prompted Natasha to write a second book.  Living Dolls delves into issues of the sex trade, sterotypes and women’s choices.

In today’s discussion, Natasha read an exerpt from her book which details the startling realities relating to the objectification of women in today’s society.  She graphically describes a scene in a nightclub where she witnessed women, with trepidation, ‘trying out’ to earn a place as a glamour model  in a mens magazine.  The more pornographical tantilising the woman, the greater their success in the eyes of their foul mouthed, sexually potent onlookers.

It was an engaging start to the discussion, and although the eagar audience were charged to participate, they waited patiently as Susan McKay took to the podium.  They were not disappointed, as Susan tackled issues such as women in politics, women as ‘enablers’, young women and feminism, and the dissent of sexism in today’s society vis-a-vis feminism movements in previous decades.

Susan also highlighted the challenges of feminism as it is perceived in the media today, where feminism is a marketing tool for companies to sell their products and generate sustained exposure in the media.

The audience were energetic and informed in the discussion that followed, with some challenging thoughts put forward.   In all, Natasha, Susan and Anthea left the audience wanting more, which is always a good place to leave them!

Guest blog post by Louise Owens.

When Jennifer Johnston and Lelia Doolin took to the Dublin Writers Festival stage on Friday night, you could tell that they knew each other well. Doolin joked that the fact they are old friends ‘might make for an interesting conversation as they were bound to disagree over a few things.’ She was definitely right, as the evening proved to be an enlightening insight into the process of novel writing.

The event concentrated on Johnston’s book ‘The Illusionist‘, which she herself thought of as ‘actually, excuse me, quite well written.’ Listening to Johnston read a number of excerpts from her novel, it became obvious why she has been called one of Ireland’s finest authors by so many critics. Her writing is full of beautiful imagery and there is a great rhythm to her prose.

Prompted by Doolin, Johnston explained that at the time of writing the book she was living away from Dublin, away from family and friends. Feeling very isolated, the writing process was therapeutic. It helped her to face her own demons: ‘I just started writing the book and it started to grow like a plant growing. The Illusionist was a sort of medecine book for me, it cured me,’ she says.

The novel, a story of two interlinked narratives with a limited cast of characters, deals with a complex family relationship. The themes Johnson explores tend to be, naturally, close to her own heart, but not necessarily autobiographical. In this book, the female protagonist, Stella, reflects on her role as a mother and a writer.

Doolin suggested that Martyn, the male protagonist is a ‘nasty piece of work, a bully‘ and their daughter Robin more or less a replica of him. So, are there any parallels to her own life? Her own family, Johnston replies, is ‘large and fairly eccentric, they all have their own stories to tell and I have used some of those in my writing.‘ The characters are not modelled on anyone in particular, however, because ‘if I was to put them all into one book it would be “War and Peace“,’ she jokes.

At the end of the reading Johnston took questions from the audience including who her favourite writers were (McGahern and Chekhov topped her shortlist) and what she thought of screen adapations of her books (the latest one being ‘Two Moons’, the screenplay of which was recently written by actor Gabriel Byrne).

One sentence that stuck with me from the last excerpt Johnston read from ‘The Illusionist‘ is ‘Tomorrow is another day, perhaps even another life‘, which goes to show that despite the serious subject matter of the novel, Johnson’s prose is not pessmistic . On the contrary, her down-to-earth sense of humour and the visual, almost theatrical aspects of her writing shine through on every page. Naturally, the signing queue after the event was a long and appreciative one as the momentousness of the occasion was not lost on anyone who attended the reading.

blog post written by lifeisafestival

Music reaches people the world over and Brady’s performance encapsulated what is special about the art of singing. He punctuated heartfelt and interesting conversation with acoustic interludes, a Q&A session and finished up with a few audience requests, remaining warm and convivial throughout. Brady even gave advice to a singer/songwriter in the audience – a gesture which was much appreciated and which underpins the whole ethos of the Dublin Writers Festival.

John Kelly was an excellent host for the evening, matching Brady in wit, passion for music and knowledge of the industry. It’s impossible to give an entire account here, but I’ve a few snippets which will give you a flavour of the evening.

Connection with music

Brady explained that he has always had an instinctive and intuitive relationship with music, which “provided a touchstone, a sense of belonging which gave me an understanding of the world.” Brady says that he soaked up so much music, especially during the 60´s “which was a million different colours”, that it became easy for him to write his own compositions; “I just had to sit one influence long enough to come up with my own melodic structure.”

Connection with words

It took a lot longer for Brady to relate to words, especially poetry, because he “immediately heard the effort involved in the making of it, whereas songs seemed spontaneous and unfettered.” He began to write poetry for competitions in secondary school, but music remained the underlying interest; we were treated to his first published poem from his school magazine, based on the November 19^th 1963 Beatles performance in Dublin.

On the early days

“I cringe now when I hear my early songs with The Johnstons” says Brady, as the audience loudly disagrees. He continues “I moved on to play lots of traditional music in the 70´s and it took a long time for me to come up with something that I wanted to sing. I was learning lots of instruments and was completely enthralled and captivated by traditional music.” It was after several meetings with The Humblebums and listening to Gerry Rafferty that Brady rediscovered his desire to start writing again. Getting tired of the structural and harmonic limitations of traditional music, he decided to return to creating his own songs.

Songwriting

Brady was reluctant to discuss his creative process too deeply, saying “because I still don’t know how to do it.” However, passion and dedication showed themselves as major ingredients as he gave an overview of the process. “First I get the tune which I fall in love with, then I get some lines or a few lyrics. In the song Mother and Son on my new album, I had these lyrics for ten years but I had to wait until any frustration and anger went before I could write the song. I get hooked by the song when I feel strongly about the tune.” Interestingly enough, he doesn’t have any form of routine when it comes to songwriting, other than booking some time away from performances to shape his ideas into new songs.

There is so much more that I could discuss, such as Brady’s love of co-writing, the inspiration behind some of his songs and his thoughts on various pop artists, but I’d like to finish up by reiterating how special the evening was. Every audience member that I spoke to afterwards was elated – and you can’t ask for much more than that.

Throughout his reading, Mitchell interrupted himself to edit his own work. At one point he stopped midsentence; “guard and garden – that doesn’t work very well does it? I’ll have to contact my publishers.” This was a refreshing approach which was not only insightful, but also very much appreciated. I’ve not seen this done before and it’s reassuring to see that even after publication, winning multiple awards and critical acclaim, good writers are still constantly seeking to improve their craft.

It’s also amazing to know that despite receiving many accolades, Mitchell is still daunted by the task of handing over his work. He describes the moment as nerve-wracking. “Every time I hand over my manuscript, apart from the first time when I had no expectations, I think that’s it! My beautiful career has gone! I put a torch to it. the next few days I’m awful to live with. My wife should earn danger money.”

Mitchell was also extremely honest about how his sixth novel was formed, moving from first-person narrative to third person via second person. He admitted that he was struggling to get it right and he was worried as the deadline loomed because each draft required drastic alterations. But he relied on his professionalism, instinct and a few “happy accidents” to get there. But as he says, “The final version is an amalgam of the first two. Nothing goes to waste.”

The highlight for me was that Mitchell approached the audience as though it was a group of writers, not just readers. He turned questions back on the audience and wished them good luck with their own books. A member of the audience asked Mitchell for advice for young writers. He offered several practical tips which didn’t mythologize the craft:

• There’s a myth that the first book has to be amazing, but the first two books you write should be rubbish. They will be awful manuscripts that should be binned. That’s where you make your mistakes.
• If you’re feeling discouraged, you’re probably doing it right.
• Keep notebooks and index them well so you don’t spend your life searching through them
• Cultivate contacts. If an editor gives you feedback, thank them for it and keep their name and the contact open. It’ll be useful later.
• Remember, it’s not about a marathon. A novel is made up of sections; words, paragraphs, chapters. Instead of looking at a novel like a mammoth task, aim to go to bed having written a beautiful paragraph or having perfected a chapter. And don’t be daunted by the journey ahead, feel proud of the work you’ve done.

I’d like to finish up by thanking David for the interesting “fast sheep on wheels” that he drew in my edition of Number Nine Dream. I’m not sure about the jellyfish he gave to my friend, however – he should have stuck with the cloud which he originally suggested.