Having found our bearings, Fox and I ventured inland to explore the beautiful city that is Dundee.
It's only Desperate Dan marching past Caird Hall. Still, best to remain at the rear, just in case.
Then
it was time for morning tea and lemon drizzle muffin at the Folk Cafe,
thanks to Fox, followed by a snout through the second hand stores - oh,
the delightful smell of fusty books! - before lunch, also courtesy of
Fox, who also brought me shortbread and generally kept me well fed and
in fine company until I went to hear Kevin Barry read.
Barry is a consummate performer and he read with great flair as I nervously sketched him because I was too shy to take a photograph and risk my camera making inappropriate noises. Imagine being the cause of Kevin Barry's embarrassment. Actually, you needn't imagine; let me describe it for you.
You
wait in line only to realise you haven't your copy of his short story
collection on you then dash to buy one and return, queueing long enough
to appreciate the logo on the tablecloth. He seems affable, gregarious,
though a tad more shy than when he was reading to a packed room.
Strange, you think, there's only you left in the queue. Then what do you
do?
Do
you ask him about depictions of patriarchy in his fictions and if he
consciously and deliberately champions flawed women via the narrative
voices of men who at first seem bent on scorning them? No.
You rip a sketch from your day book and stuff it at his face, muttering something like:
"This is you."
And you don't win the Dundee International Book Prize, but you've got the biggest smile on your face at the gala dinner....
....which is probably a good point to shut your trap.
But just before I do shut up, I'd like to thank Literary Dundee and the NZ Book Council once more for making my trip to the Dundee Literary Festival possible. I'd also like to thank everyone I met at teh gala dinner for your hospitality and warmth, and for al the encouraging and lovely things you each said about my novel. Thank you.
