My goodness that last post generated a veritable tsunami of equestrian-related questions! I guess people could sense they were getting some seriously authoritative information. Such things are hard to come by. But before I drop any more wisdom on the readers of this blog, I must tell you a bit about my recent trip to the Calgary Writer’s festival and Banff.
At my first event I had the opportunity to read with the adorable (sorry, Matthew, but you are) Matthew Skelton, author of Endymion Springs. He was quite nervous about presenting to a group of students in grades 10, 11 and 12, but as I suspected, he was fantastic and funny and geniuine and they loved him. So did I.
My next event was the dreaded “Toeing the Line” panel. I was quite paranoid that I would be facing a hostile crowd or that my editor Lynne and I would end up alone in a room talking to each other about Melvin Burgess and how he has never seen a line he won’t cross and how that makes him kind of cool. Luckily, quite a few people attended and we had a good discussion with Alex, a thoughtful and well-spoken retired teacher and a wonderful librarian from the Calgary Public Library, and members of the audience. In honour of the event I had a special T-shirt made up. (Photo to come if I ever remember to put batteries in my camera.)
I’m pleased to say that I am not yet banned in Calgary. And I got to hang out briefly with the very sharp and funny Ken Oppel and Richard Scrimger and Teresa Toten.
When that was over I went off to the Summit Salon in Banff. It’s apparently a literary salon, but what it really felt like was summer camp for writers. We were put up in quite decent rooms in this dorm type place and given ID cards that gave us access to multiple food outlets, including one that served a giant buffet three times a day, and turned loose. It was much fun.
I got to see Joel Thomas Hynes and Ray Robertson read from their books and an Australian named Morganics do some great rapping about… you know, important stuff that I’m quite in favour of but can’t remember right at the moment. I also spent some quality time with the lovely Alice Kuipers, whose very tender and innovative new book, Life on the Refrigerator Door, has become an international sensation. It’s great and you should read it.
Alice and I took climbing lessons on one of those climbing walls. She scampered up ever-more difficult “routes” with no difficulty whatsoever and I laboriously hauled myself up the easiest ones and then spent some time making sure that Mike, our belayer and instructor, got some practice in the art of catching falling climbers. At our second session I learned to belay. It seems I’m not just a spazz when I’m climbing (and falling). I’m also a spaz when I’m belaying. Belaying involves reeling in your climbing partner’s extra rope as they climb. In my case, it involves panicking as you continually bone things up. But ultimately, no one was killed or injured so I think we can call it a success.
I also went for a run with Lawrence Hill, one of Canada’s finest writers, whose most recent novel is the much-lauded Book of Negroes. I thought it would be nice to have a jog with a fellow writer (plus, he said his kids liked my books, which gave me confidence.) But when I met him in the foyer of the residence, I realized I’d made a mistake in telling him I was a runner. I could see instantly that Lawrence Hill and I had different ideas about what constitutes a runner. For him, I expect it means only narrowly missing qualifying for the last Olympics. For me it means meaning to run but often forgetting and/or being too tired. He was extremely patient and gracious and didn’t go sprinting off like a gazelle being chased by a lumbering hedgehog (me). We had a lovely run and I’m looking forward to reading the non-fiction book he published this year called A Deserter’s Tale.
I was much taken with Neil Smith and his partner. Neil has a piece in Esquire magazine this month about his upcoming novel and I can’t wait to read his book of short stories. He’s very sly and funny and we like many of the same books. Plus, he didn’t say anything cruel (to my face) about how I looked when I was climbing. I was practicing my falling (intentionally, this time) and happened to look out the window up near the top of the wall. There I saw Neil, Matthew and Christian staring at me with a sort of horror tinged with pity. I expect that was because a) I kept falling and b)my track pants really weren’t designed for climbing or for use under a harness and looked quite unseemly. I’m just guessing about that last point.
So there it is, my Dominick Dunne-style breathless recap. Many new books to read and authors to admire. I am going to miss the hell out of that buffet and all the Australian staff at the Banff Centre. I wonder whether the Australian consulate insists that all males leaving the country invent elaborate spiky hairdos for themselves. These coiffures seemed to persist even when their wearers were swimming. I will always think with fondness on my time at the buffet. I mean, in Banff.