Despite great intentions I only got to Sunday's sessions at the Dublin Book Festival. But that was good. An injection of creativity into my sluggish brain. So, which injection gave me the highest high?
I'd have to say it was Pol O'Muiri ... and he's not someone I'd have rushed into town to see. But there you go. That's what's great about festivals. What I liked about O'Muire was his poems about language and him reading in both English and Irish with a smidgin of German.
Now what a pity that the only 'foreigner' on the podium - Enrique Juncosa - did not read in Spanish. I was looking forward to hearing his poems in his native
language (then spoken in English by himself or another) but no, he chose to write and read in English. That did nothing for me.
Nessa O'Mahony read from her verse novel about emigration, written from the point of view of three women. Interesting, lovely sounds "sags and zig-zags ..." I'd like to hear / read more.
Ciaran Carson was perhaps the most unusal reader of the afternoon. Well, he was more than a 'reader'. He played the tin whistle to introduce the idea of "aisling" as in dream and muse. And he sang part of his novel called "The Penfriend" - a love story. It sounded just right for a love story to be partly sung, partly read. If I bought the book would I sing myself to sleep with it at night?
7th March 2010
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