An Indian poet looks back on the London Book Fair

Arundhathi replied to questions on this fair and also remarked on a few other literary festivals in which she has taken part recently.

April 03, 2017 05:07 pm | Updated 05:07 pm IST

Poet, writer Arundhathi Subramaniam.

Poet, writer Arundhathi Subramaniam.

The London Book Fair, now in its 46th year, is a veritable Mecca and a global marketplace for booksellers, publishers and rights agents. Some 1,500 exhibitors from over 60 countries converged in London for the three-day fair this year held from 14 to 16 March 2017.

Arundhathi Subramaniam (a much-decorated poet who has won several awards for her 11 books — four books of poetry, four anthologies and three books of prose including a biography of mystic Jaggi Vasudhev and a book on Budhism) was one of four delegates from India selected by the Sahitya Akademi to take part in the fair. The other three were senior Kannada writer SL Bhyrappa and two writers from the Northeast, Kuladhar Saikia and Yeshe Dorjee Thongchi.

Arundhathi replied to questions on this fair and also remarked on a few other literary festivals in which she has taken part recently.

Was the London Book Fair a stimulating experience? What were the highlights? Did you give the fair a flavor of your work?

We were invited to take part in two sessions. On the first day, March 14, a session revolved around the respective literary contexts of the participants. I discussed the Anglophone poetry scene in India with a small but genuinely curious group of listeners.

On the third day, we were asked to present our own work. I read my poetry here, offering some sense of trajectory from my early work to my most recent book.This was the closing session of the festival so we were concerned that we wouldn’t have an audience at all. But since the event was in the main hall, it was wonderful to have passers-by stopping by, initially out of idle curiosity, and then choosing to stay on until the very end.

This reconfirms my belief that literary festivals need to incorporate more readings into their agendas. Poetry, as a live spoken art, can have a tremendous direct appeal. The connect with an audience can be immediate and visceral.

Can you recall some moments that you will cherish?

The real memorable moments for me on such occasions are always the subtle ones — not the appreciation of listeners which certainly helps — but the quiet, intangible moments that creep up on you later.

A meeting with a Persian poet and critic at our second session was a high point. He talked of convergences that he intuited between Persian and Indian poetry. This intrigued me, and has now motivated me to start exploring contemporary poetry from Iran.

A chance conversation with a woman from Israel who writes literature for children with special needs (after discovering that her own son was autistic) was another.

I’ll always remember that long conversation along London streets with stalwart Kannada novelist, SM Bhyrappa, in which he talked of his journey through philosophy and fiction, the ways in which his early encounters with death inspired his creative writing.

And sometimes we go halfway across the world to make discoveries that could have been made at home! Those are life’s delicious ironies. And so, I chanced upon a book at the Sahitya Akademi stall at the Book Fair: Trees of Kochi and Other Poems, a volume of verse by Malayalam poet, KG Sankara Pillai (edited and translated into English by EV Ramakrishnan). I then went back and spent a wonderful evening in my London hotel room reading these poems — philosophical, political and quirkily personal all at once. It’s a jewel of a book and I’m delighted to have discovered it.

It’s always gratifying and humbling after poetry readings to meet people who say they are now seized by the impulse to return to poetry — something they had buried along with their adolescence. It feels good to play a small role as catalyst in putting someone back in touch with a beloved lost world. And it’s a reminder of the sheer power of a form.

This was a book fair. Was the emphasis on commerce rather than poetry?

You are right. It was a book fair and not a literary festival — it was obviously not an intimate dialogue between writers. The very word ‘fair’ suggests another dynamic. Yet was an enjoyable experience — lively and animated.

Since I’m not a very gifted networker (I’m no good at brandishing visiting cards; I don’t have any!) and wasn’t there to strike deals of any kind, I wasn’t really looking at this visit as a chance to ‘take away’ anything.

But simply walking through a maze of book stands — where every turn is a potential discovery of a new voice, an unexpected sensibility or an entire literary culture — that’s a phenomenon one can never have too much of!

The Persian poet Alireza Abiz’s poem comes to mind. Entitled ‘The Agent’ , it opens with the line: ‘The agent asked me for an ID card/ None of my cards had a photo on’. Given that there’s no escaping the tyranny of ID cards and visiting cards in the world today, I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to be an anonymous wanderer in a great wilderness of books! That for me is what a book fair really represents — and that comes close to my idea of an idyllic situation.

While on the subject, would you like to recall some significant literary festivals in which you have taken part?

I have been to several poetry festivals overseas. But in the past ten years, the boom in lit fests in India is quite remarkable.

A few of these, of course, are distinctive. They are thoughtfully curated and with an eye for detail. My personal favourites are those that are less concerned about scale, more personal, more intimate, those that revolve around exploratory conversations between writers rather than those that feature token panel discussions with battalions of participants.

The Chandigarh Literature Festival is a unique festival, for example, where each session focuses on a single book (chosen by a critic). The session is then devoted to a genuinely engaged dialogue between critic and writer.

I’ve enjoyed The Hindu LitFest in Chennai. I've been part of it as a juror for the awards. And on another year, as a panelist and moderator of a panel on Bhakti literature. It's interesting when festivals set up conversations across disciplines, and I particularly enjoyed the conversation on Bhakti poetry with two dancers. The audiences here are quite remarkable too -- attentive, well-informed, with several genuine book lovers in their midst. The fact that it's at a single venue is a big plus; it keeps the proceedings focused and cohesive.

Among international festivals, the Sha’ar Festival in Tel Aviv struck me for the precision and sensitivity of its programming. In the UK, the Ledbury Festival is one I‘ve particularly enjoyed for the in-depth sessions it offers with each poet. It gives one a chance to listen to a poetry reading as well as a substantial discussion with a poet.

As poetry editor, I’ve also participated several times in the Poetry International Festival in Rotterdam, which is surely one of the most vibrant and meticulously organized poetry festivals in Europe.

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