Canongate Lates: Manchester Literature Festival 2014

Young Digital Reporter Alexandra Sutton reviews our Canongate Lates event with authors Emma Jane Unsworth, Zoe Pilger, Anneliese Mackintosh and singer-songwriter Karima Francis…

Upon arrival at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation, I bought my self a large glass of wine. I then nursed that glass of wine for the following hour – I was so excited to be in a room with four great, great women, that I had arrived comically early. Fortunately, I was not to be disappointed. Canongate Lates, featuring three groundbreaking writers and one strikingly original musician, was the type of event I’ll still talk about in years to come.

There was a lovely feeling of camaraderie – I got the sense that everyone was as geekily excited as I was to be there, including our tip-top host, Katie Popperwell. She welcomed us with a wise and witty speech about common depictions of women writers (let’s all stop using the phrase ‘chick lit’, please) and how the writing presented at the event felt like a ‘shift in the literary landscape.’

First up was Zoe Pilger, art critic for The Independent, PHD student and author, reading an excerpt from her debut novel, Eat My Heart Out. A tale of ‘modern hipsterdom’ and second wave feminism, her novel explores what it is to be a young woman caught between a hardcore feminist mentor and a love of Queen Bey (amongst other things, of course). Pilger noted how she and her fellow women writers are often referred to as ‘literary bad girls’, and questioned whether this was at all appropriate. I’m with Zoe on this one – these women are not ‘bad girls’, they are just women, honest, open women writers whose works are not close to the bone, rather they hack through the bone altogether.

After Zoe came Anneliese Mackintosh. Annaliese read from her collection of short stories, Any Other Mouth, and her reading was for me the most beautifully intimate and poignant of the night. She reads like a seasoned performance poet – her writing is epigrammatic, enticing and endearing, and is perfectly suited to a night of live literature. She carried us all with her through a list of funeral requests – a Roald Dahl revolting rhyme to be read, her 6 most recent lovers to attend, how she above all wants her mum – and it was just superb. ‘Each little one a howl’, said Annaliese of her stories. For me this one was a beautiful, painful swan-song.

Our final reading of the night came from Manchester’s own Emma Jane Unsworth. At risk of sounding like a complete fan-girl – I love, love, love her book. After the gentleness of Mackintosh’s reading, peppered with moments of hilarity, Unsworth’s reading was the perfect follow up. After listening to her read from Animals, my face was actually aching with laughter. I could whip out all sorts of deep, intellectual comments on her work, but surely that has to be the biggest compliment. Unsworth’s fabulously familiar accent, self-deprecating delivery and assertion that she really did meet a man in the Village named ‘Chicken Sandwich’, had us all hooked. Animals is the story of an aspiring writer and her manic-pixie-nightmare best mate, tearing through the streets of Manchester and through each other. Her novel is messy, methy, Mancunian magical realism – read and be amazed.

In a lovely end to the evening, Karima Francis played a very special acoustic set. She came straight from the studio and belted out several never-before-played songs like a complete dream. Her voice is simultaneously powerful and vulnerable – it doesn’t tug at the heartstrings, it positively tears them out. I sat back and let it all wash over me – she was the perfect counterpoint to an evening of laughter, intensity and personal insight. Ultimately, that’s what live literature should be all about – connecting with an audience who usually only feel you through the pages of your writing.  As Katie Popperwell noted, these writers offer us ‘political portraits’ that are often shattering, powerful and entertaining, but above all they are intimate and personal – these qualities shone through at this cracking event.

Literary Walker: Inua Ellams and The Midnight Run

For centuries poets and artists have taken to the streets for inspiration, wandering both city and country in order to seek a sense of the other, and a sense of self. From Wordsworth’s rural strolls to Thomas de Quincey’s opium-fuelled ventures into London’s darkest haunts, literary walks are part of our cultural inheritance. Inua Ellams - performance poet, playwright and graphic artist – is tapping into this history and re-inventing it for the modern city-dweller.

Ellams is an artist of all sorts – his poetry draws together rich-voiced romanticism, hip-hop, jazz and the silkiest of lyrics, his scriptwriting is mature and refined, and his graphic art is strikingly inventive. To add to this, he is now the curator of a physical exhibition that stretches across the streets of cities world-wide. In 2005, Ellams and a friend became impatient waiting for a night bus, and decided to make their journey across London on foot. Enraptured with the nocturnal cityscape and the darkened alter-egos of the night-time streets, Ellams dreamed up The Midnight Run. The project is a literal example of poetry in motion, as Ellams and his magican-poet-performer friends lead groups of people around the city by night, exploring ideas of communal space, identity, and urban development, and creating art as they go. The idea is for people to view their own streets, their run-friends and themselves with a fresh pair of eyes, in a playful process of defamiliarisation. From the perspective of a literary critic, Ellams’ eco-critical explorations are right on trend, and from the perspective of an art-lover, they are simply groundbreaking.

In his mission statement, Ellams explains the influence of The Situationalists, a political and artistic movement which rejected the commercialism of art in 60’s France, and sought to replace it with ‘real’ experience. The Midnight Run is just that – a physical, immersive, artistic experience. For Ellams, any city, anywhere can be a poetic playground, from impromptu story-telling in a darkened alley, to sunrise tai chi, to group writing tasks. I organised a poetry workshop with Ellams whilst at university, and got a sense of his innovative and inviting style. He has a natural talent for drawing out the poet in everyone, whether he’s performing himself, working with musicians, or gently teasing out ideas from his audience.

This gentle teasing is at the heart of The Midnight Run; the project asks us how we interact with our environment, and encourages us to do so differently. So many cities are increasingly filled with private spaces and private people – a fact of life connected to the ethics of The Midnight Run. For me, Ellams seems to be suggesting that private, restricted city space is closely linked to both spiritual and economic poverty. Even on a short bus ride in London, one can weave through many different communities of enormously different wealth, sandwiched uncomfortably together in disparity. By inviting us to look closer, Ellams is exploring some of the most pressing social and political issues in modern society, whilst creating a piece of peopled art.

Over the last ten years, The Midnight Run has spread from an independent London movement, to Spain, to New Zealand, to work with the Tate and the Southbank Centre, with the founders striving towards building a global urban movement. This is a growing piece of performance art like no other, with Ellams, a 21st century flaneur, at its helm.

Originally published in XXY magazine.

Top Ten Things About Being Unemployed, or, Hire Me Please God Hire Me.

I am unemployed. I am bored. I am spending A LOT of time on Buzzfeed, and when my boyfriend/mum/cat isn't looking, on the Daily Mail Sidebar of Shame. It's like crack, only more vulgar. My 'Motivation Coach' from the Jobcentre is my new bestie, and I am averaging two baths a day. I'm not stupid though - I know have it pretty cushy, this job-seeking malarkey. I am a university graduate, I'm living at home, home happens to be Manchester, and although I am thus-far unsuccessfully trying to get a job in media (ho, ho), it's not like I am going to be victimised for being on the dole, unlike many of my fellow Jobcentre frequenters, or anyone featured on hellish shows such as Benefits Street. Anyway, less of the ranting, more of the list-making denial fun. 

Thus far I have been fluctuating between tirades about the perils of graduate unemployment + unpaid work experience, and telling myself to stop whining. Today I am going to do a mixture of the two, with this super internet-y list of unemployment wins:

1) I get to be a full-time parent and life-coach to my cat. I WILL win her back from my mum. 

2) I have time to fine-tune my argument against Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Martin's new found love. She is a QUEEN and he is a mere peasant. 

3) I can reconnect with Buffy the Vampire Slayer in an important way. Anything Buffy Can Do...

4) I have perfected my Paul Hollywood inspired White Cob Loaf.

5) I am now on familiar (albeit one-sided) terms with all of BBC News' presenters, as I have it on pretty much all of the day to retain a link to the outside world.

6) I can legitimately be on the internet all the time because that is where the jobs are. 

7) I have overcome my phobia of the dishwasher in order to contribute to a more pleasant home environment in which no one shouts at anyone for refusing to fill and/or empty it. 

8) My nosy neighbouring is off the frickin' chain. 

9) I can blame all of my problems on the DEFICIT and the JOB MARKET and the TORIES. 

10) I can make self-indulgent blog posts like this instead of getting on with stuff. 

Yours sincerely, 

SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO BE EMPLOYED NOW PLEASE. 

This one is a winner.

Cigarettes + Revolution: thoughts on PERSEPOLIS, by Marjane Satrapi

Slowly but surely, I'm learning how to read graphic novels. It's a complex affair, drawing together words and images. In my head, it's a skill you naturally have as a child, but one you lose as you start exploring fat books full of words. Unless you stick with comics throughout life, which I regret not doing. My first graphic novel was Watchmen - I got too excited and powered through it without really appreciating the story being told in the images. Next I tried a couple of books Neil Gaiman's Sandman series - the art was so great that I couldn't concentrate on the wordy bits.

Persepolis, however, required no work whatsoever. Marjane Satrapi's tale of a girlhood in and out of Iran is a wonderful synthesis of simple text, minimalist imagery and complicated political, philosophical and familial themes. Marjane is the daughter of middle-class, left-wing parents. She is fond of the word 'dialectic', she wishes to be a prophet, she is sad because her maid does not eat with her family. She is a precocious young girl, and though this is an autobiographical tale, the well-read and super-curious novel-Marjane is reminiscent of Hodgson Burnett's Mary Lennox, transplanted from the gardens of Yorkshire to the unsettled landscape of Iran.

Marjane takes us along with her as she witnesses her country change around her. First it is the protests, then comes the new regime, the war with Iraq, the enforcement of religious law, the closure of her school, upheaval, death, travel to Europe and all of a sudden we realise that Marjane is no longer a young girl. She's a chain smoking young woman left confused by her country's transition from liberal nation to extremist state.

People my age have grown up with Iran in the news. We know Iran as the state it becomes toward the end of this novel - a state of unrest, both political and cultural. A state in which Western countries have involvement in, though we may not always understand why. When I first saw 60's images of Iranian women in mini-skirts I was ridiculously confused. I don't profess to know the ins and outs of Iranian politics, and I know even less about Iranian culture, but Marjane Satrapi teaches us about both, from the perspective of a girl who is undergoing many changes herself. In a subtle act of show and tell, we learn about the modern history of Iran, and how its people have influenced and been influenced by this history, whilst learning about the life of one little girl.

I think we all attempt to relate literature to our own lives, it's only natural. In the case of Persepolis, the bits I found most striking were the alien ones. What it's like to live in a war-torn country, for example. What it's like to leave home and be unsure of your return. However, key tenets of the novel transcend political or national specificity - family, perhaps being the most prominent. Personally, I found Marjane's exploration of what it is to be a woman in a restrictive environment fascinating. Even though Marjane's experiences are at an extreme end of the spectrum, the inherent attitudes found in them are very relevant in societies across the world today.

It's touching, dark, funny, and it's as much a tale of growing up as it's a tale of politics and philosophy. A rare treat of a tale, offset with simple and striking illustration. I really think young girls of all nationalities should read this book, especially in the context of today's perceptions about the Middle East. Satrapi is an inspirational writer and woman -  I can't wait to pass her work on.

What are your recommendations for a novice graphic novel reader? Lots of suggestions welcome.

Marjane Satrapi - picture: persianfilmfestival.com