Festival Books NICK KENT The rock journo who became the story
‘When you get right down to it, the memory is a deceitful organ to have to rely on,’ reflects notorious rock scribe Nick Kent in the opening lines of his memoir, Apathy for the Devil. But even Kent’s near-fatal rock’n’roll lifestyle couldn’t wholly obliterate memories like these: the man who out-partied Keith Richards has been attacked by Sid Vicious, rescued by Iggy and heart-broken by Chrissie Hynde.
If Apathy recounts and contemplates the iconic rock writer’s run-ins with stars such as Bob Marley, Led Zeppelin and David Bowie in the 70s, so too does it offer a cautionary tale. Employed by the NME alongside the likes of Charles Shaar Murray, Paul Morley and Julie Burchill in its ‘golden’ era (it shifted 300,000 copies a week; compared to 38,000 today), Kent pursued the conceits of ‘personality journalism’ and method-writing to their extremes. He became the story. Long- term drug addiction, ill-health and homelessness ensued.
He’s long recovered, moved to Paris, had kids, got wed and found religion, but Kent can still conjure a lively rhetoric force, and he’s certainly not short on anecdotes, (or accurate memories, he claims), with which to thrill and appal the Book Festival. Perhaps he’ll reminisce about his days as a Sex Pistol; or Keith Moon’s flying- leap at him through a window; or his name-check on a b-side by Adam and the Ants. Or maybe he’ll read excerpts from The Dark Stuff, his seminal compendium of rock-crit and narrative. Whatever her does, his words remain singular and reliable. (Nicola Meighan) ■ 27 Aug, 8.30pm, £10 (£8).
SIMON ARMITAGE Decorated poet goes in a new direction
This will be the first Book Festival appearance of Simon Armitage CBE, since the nod was given the much- adored Huddersfield poet’s way in the Queen’s birthday honours earlier this year. ‘Flattered,’ is how he felt. ‘That’s it. Just flattered.’ He’s lost for words for once, and he still doesn’t know who nominated him. There’s also a new book out, a poetry collection called Seeing Stars. ‘They’re quite differently styled to my usual stuff,’ he says. ‘I’d say they’re story poems. Quite absurd, some monologues, some narratives, but more narratively explicit than anything I’ve done before. I think I wanted to get away from form 16 THE LIST 26 Aug–9 Sep 2010
LEANNE SHAPTON Crafting a wholly original literary conceit
Title aside, Important Artifacts and Personal Property from the Collection of Lenore Doolan and Harold Morris, Including Books, Street Fashion and Jewelry is one of the most intriguing US publications from the last 12 months. The story of a couple’s initial passion, which flattens out before ultimately disintegrating, is told through the somewhat rarely-utilised literary tool of the auction catalogue. Suspend your disbelief and enter the world of Lenore and Harold, whose joint possessions were sold off on Valentine’s Day of 2009, at Strachan & Quinn Auctioneers, the trajectory of their life together told in the straight commentary beside each lot, as well as through the hand-written letters and notes which accompany many of the items. ‘Hal is at a point in his life where he comes first, especially in this romantic relationship,’ New York illustrator and author Shapton admits. ‘Lenore is
impressed and charmed by him, and is looking for confirmation of her own artistic values through him. We tolerate all sorts of humiliations when all we see is what we want to see.’ Though the idea is a wholly original literary one, it’s based on Shapton’s recollection of reading a Truman Capote catalogue about his final years in Hollywood and an exhibition brochure on the correspondence between Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath. While many of the objects in the book/catalogue
were new purchases (Shapton says she perhaps spent too much on a heart-shaped toast rack), over half of Lenore and Hal’s ‘personal property’ came from Shapton’s own archive. ‘It was surprisingly easy to create new histories for my objects,’ she says. ‘I found the dogs that wound up on the cover at a flea market. I was busy collecting random things at that point of the process, and working them into the story.’ (Brian Donaldson) ■ 29 Aug (with Adam Ross), 8.30pm, £10 (£8).
fine and addictive tradition. It’s got all the requisite elements – orphaned child, mysterious uncle with a laissez- faire attitude to childcare, spooky house, faithful canine companion – and the feisty young protagonist is one St John hopes will achieve that holy grail of appealing to both boys and girls. She makes the trip to favourite haunt
Edinburgh (‘I always hope to cross paths with Alexander McCall Smith, who I think is amazing’) to read from the newly published work as well as talking about her childhood in Africa (the inspiration for the immensely popular White Giraffe series), and
think what’ll happen next is that poetry becomes too popular and we have to go and invent it again, because if it’s too popular, it’s not doing its job. It has to be awkward and stubborn and dissenting. And not prose. It has to require thought and concentration.’ (David Pollock) ■ 28 Aug, 8.30pm, £10 (£8).
LAUREN ST JOHN Writing for a more honest and passionate reader
Remember those series of books you would read as a child? Remember how, when you discovered a new one, you’d just have to devour it as quickly as possible, gobbling up boarding- school tales of lacrosse and midnight feasts and adventure after adventure in which plucky kids somehow became involved in the most exciting of real, live mysteries? The ones where adventures started at home and took you to far-flung places with tantalising names, the ones that taught you all the elements of a good yarn?
Lauren St John’s latest offering, Dead Man’s Cove – the first in a planned series of mysteries featuring 11-year-old detective heroine Laura Marlin – looks set to continue in that
and lyricism for a while. I’ve been writing more or less the same way for the best part of 20 years, so I tried things which I recognise as being radically different and just kept going when I found I enjoyed it.’ Next, Armitage will be writing about his experience of walking the Pennine Way last month, and he continues to read at least once a week. ‘There’s been a narrowing of the ground between what we might call performance poetry and literary poetry recently,’ he says. ‘There’s a young crop of writers who are more comfortable getting up and reading in settings which weren’t always appropriate to poetry, like festivals. I