Only in Hay could you find such an eclectic mix on stage. Paul Blezard, far left, (rather hoarse, after the staff party the previous night so he said...) interviewing Nick Taussig, middle (author of the novel "Don Don"), and Buddhist monk, Bhante Bodhidhamma. Taussig knew Bhante Bodhidhamma from the time he took up meditation and consulted him for the novel. In "Don Don", two men who are polar opposites are told at the same time on the same day that they are dying and have just up to one year left. The novel then follows how Don Holmes (a brash, bullish self-made New York millionaire with an appetite for excess) and Thai Buddhist monk Ajahn Don deal with their fate and how they live their last months.
When questions were opened to the audience, the first comment came from a Thai lady, overcome with emotion, but still wishing to thank Taussig for writing a book that put Thailand in a good light and reflected the true spirit of her country. Blezard described this as the "most heartfelt comment" he'd ever heard at Hay. Do books enrich lives? You had to be there to experience the extent to which they can.
On the last day, it was a little overcast in Hay, but, luckily, there was only one shower. This is Wales, so the "shower" did threaten to turn into a downpour, but, relief all round, it was indeed only a shower.
Wellies not required.
Shower over and just get on with the fun!
Also being Wales, a keen breeze is never far away.
But again, the last day did not become as fraught as the previous Sunday, when rain poured, the wind was high and the temperature was so low, a rain sodden, wellies wearing attendee might have found themselves shivering in the afternoon, even when in a tent.
This was the end of May into June, but Wales proves again it has a mind of its own...
Another last day event, Peter Guttridge (author and crime fiction critic for The Observer) interviewed authors Anthony Swofford (for his novel "Exit A") and Michael Chabon (for his novel "The Yiddish Policemen's Union").
In this picture, Swofford is on the left and Guttridge on the right.
And in the following picture, Chabon is enjoying one of many questions he was asked...
In "The Yiddish Policemen's Union", Chabon has created an alternative universe. The synopsis from Amazon:
For sixty years Jewish refugees and their descendants have prospered in the Federal District of Sitka, a 'temporary' safe haven created in the wake of revelations of the Holocaust and the shocking 1948 collapse of the fledgling state of Israel. Proud, grateful and longing to be American, the Jews of the Sitka District have created their own little world in the Alaskan panhandle, a vibrant, gritty, soulful and complex frontier city that moves to the Yiddish beat. Now, after sixty years of federal neglect, the District is set to revert to Alaskan control, and their dream is coming to an end: once again the tides of history threaten to sweep them up and carry them off into the unknown. But homicide detective Meyer Landsman has enough problems without worrying about the upcoming Reversion. His life is a shambles, his marriage a wreck, his career a disaster. He and his half-Tlingit partner, Berko Shemets, can't catch a break in any of their outstanding cases. Landsman's new supervisor is the love of his life -- and also his worst nightmare. And then someone's got the nerve to commit a murder in the flophouse Landsman calls home. Out of habit, obligation and a half-cocked shot at redemption, he begins to investigate the killing of his neighbor, a former chess prodigy, and soon finds himself contending with all the powerful forces of faith, obsession, evil and salvation that are his heritage -- and with the unfinished business of his marriage to Bina Gelbfish, the one person who understands his darkest fears. At once a gripping whodunit, a love story, an homage to 1940s noir, and an exploration of the mysteries of exile and redemption, "The Yiddish Policemen's Union" is a novel only Michael Chabon could have written.
And last but not least on that last day was Keith Allen. Many had left the site to dress up for the final event which was Welsh baritone Bryn Terfel's concert. His career was launched at Hay twenty years ago, so it was fitting that he was there for a concert as the last event, on the last night of the twentieth year of the festival. It was sold out, almost in an instant, when online bookings became live. Alas, I didn't make it, but I did make the Keith Allen event, where Allen has written an autobiography, which must certainly be an EVENT, given his life.
Shortly after entering the tent and picking a seat, a woman behind told me that she thought she might be "too old for this event". Allen's reputation for threat of unpredictability and edgy behaviour really does spread far.
The ususal water on the side table was replaced with lager and red wine suggesting a promise of outrageousness to come.
And Allen didn't disappoint in that field, although he, thankfully, kept it all on stage and wooed his audience, such is his dangerous charm (for which age has no limit).
Blezard opened by reading the last two paragraphs of Allen's tome called "Grow Up". In this, Allen says he has not mentioned most of his sexual liaisons as too many people "would be hurt". But he does throw in a liaison with Janet Street-Porter when explaining this and references to a hospital bed at her home. Interestingly, he finishes with a final few words on A A Gill, my Hay man of the moment, whom he describes as a "c***". (But in the interview he never let on "why"!)
Allen clearly enjoyed recounting stories from his outrageous past and animated them on occasion - the pics showing his explanation of what went on, on a London stage when he decided that Max Bygraves needed a kick up the arse, having ignored an old colleague.
Blezard drew attention to the fact that, having read the book, it comes across that Allen makes a good friend, looking after his friends. With respect to the Bygraves story, Allen was not looking after a friend but looking after someone who deserved to be, at least, recognised and acknowledged by Bygraves, in his eyes. "Star" and "celebrity" clearly mean little to Allen.
This was evident later at his book signing, which was possibly his first experience of this. He happily posed with the girls in front in the queue for a photograph; an obvious fresh experience. When it came to me, I simply asked him to sign. He drew something on the page and said "It's meant to be a heart, but I'm not sure." I confirmed that even upside down it looked like a heart, but possibly also a canine or a molar... "You're right!" he exclaimed, after a bit of thought, focusing on the diagram he'd delivered.
Blezard commented that this is most open and honest autobiography that he's read. I now have a "heart" decorated copy and will let you know what I think when I've read it. But Allen on stage, for the interview indicates that Blezard is right. It's "no holds barred" time, even if Allen delightfully honed his thoughts and presentation to meet the expectations of that audience at Hay. (The lady sitting behind needn't have worried.)
A thrilling end to a wonderful day, but more later from this blog:
That final day included Neil Pearson on book collecting and that one deserves some detailed attention, more later.
Also, as this is a crime fiction site, more later from the Ruth Rendell event of the previous weekend, too.
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