But no, this was not a night out in a seedy London club. It was a panel discussion at last year’s Clerkenwell Literary Festival deconstructing the popularity of self-help books. (The stripper was writer and panelist Arthur Smith.)
Dubbed by The Observer as “the book world’s hippest annual gathering,” Clerkenwell opened its fifth-anniversary festivities on July 16 with a relatively tame yet still eclectic offering on lust and obsession at a lunchtime reading with writers Jemima Hunt and Patrick Neate.
After reading an excerpt from his novel “Twelve Bar Blues,” Neate said, “I am writing a book about pigeon wars in London, and I wanted to try some of it out on you-if that is all right-I hope it makes sense. If you don’t get it, then I know I am off track on this.” Of course, the crowd-both the funky urban hipsters and the staid businessmen-clapped and cheered at his idea.
The festival, which runs through July 21, will mix mainstream and underground talent. Events include readings by Bollywood writers, a night on failure with former Vanity Fair writer Toby Young (author of “How to Lose Friends & Alienate People”) and a debate centering on the question, “Is God a [expletive]?”
Run by London’s it-lit couple Victoria Hull and Tom Hodgkinson, the festival has “gone from strength to strength,” says Giles Foden, deputy literary editor of the Guardian.
The 100-plus book festivals held across Britain each year traditionally have been aimed at the middle-class, middle-aged, middle-England crowd, most of whom come to see mainstream offerings from the literary world. Less established and more alternative writers have traditionally been difficult to book into these festivals, creating a Catch-22 effect-they were not being seen, and therefore not being read. There was, says Hull, a former television executive, “no room for an unknown young feisty thing to get heard.”
Convinced she’d found a market for a more radical literary festival, Hull was able to get patrons David Bowie and writer Irvine Welsh on board to support Clerkenwell’s endeavors. And over the last five years, it has developed into a unique festival with an against-the-grain, literary tradition-much like the neighborhood for which it’s named.
“Books like ‘The Beach’ and ‘Trainspotting’ are bought by a certain demographic, and become popular within a certain scene,” says Simon Prosser, the publication director for one of Penguin’s book divisions. “Clerkenwell exists on that nexus.”
Some critics scoff at the festival’s literary content. One of this year’s lighter events: a discussion on the role of play in the process of creativity, co-hosted by Alex James, bassist for the band Blur. Hull says she has sensed a “degree of snootiness” from some circles, but despite it, she’s proud that Clerkenwell has tapped into an edgier crowd.
The critics do give the festival credit for its ability to survive in the highly competitive entertainment market of London. “The fact that they have become established at all is a triumph,” says the Guardian’s Foden. Others have tried and failed, some rather miserably. The Word, set up in 1999 and funded in part by the lottery, had an estimated budget of £700,000 and booked several dozen top writers to speak, but still ended up losing £55,000 in its first year. Clerkenwell, with its budget this year at £23,000, has never had a loss.
On Tuesday of this week, the first day of the festival, a flip-flop-wearing Hunt and a T-shirt-clad Neate mingled with the attendees in a pub after their readings. Everyone was buying each other pints of beer and sitting down at dirty tables discussing everything from summer vacation plans to story-writing motivations.
The relaxed atmosphere is something often missing from other festivals, Neate acknowledges. “Authors are usually treated with such a degree of gravitas that it creates a real distinction between the writer and the audience,” he says. “Not that big festivals don’t have their place, but creating something a bit different that’s closer to what’s popular rather than esoteric has to be a good thing.”
Hull and Hodgkinson say they would like to see the festival grow and become more important, yet still retain its air of intimacy. “These underground people take a long time to get recognized,” says Hodgkinson. “But over time, they may be viewed as more important. It is that spirit that we are interested in.” The beatnik greats would most certainly have agreed-especially with the promise of a drink afterward.
