Talking about their books... Sue Purkiss

The thirtieth Wells Literature Festival has just finished, and how excellent it was. We went to quite a few events this year, and there was only one talk that was just a tiny bit disappointing - given by someone who was clearly relying on his ability to wing it, which almost worked, but not quite.

But the others were really excellent. Here are a few of them.

The first was Janina Ramirez, the mediaeval historian (and, it turns out, English scholar). And she was absolutely brilliant. She was bubbling with enthusiasm - even while she was waiting in the wings to be brought on and introduced, she was literally bouncing up and down and waving at the audience, as though we were all her best friends and she couldn't wait to talk to us. She was just as enthusiastic about her subject: the words came tumbling out, the arms continued to wave about, the eyes sparkled - honestly, if the National Grid could plug into her energy, we'd have nothing to worry about this winter. She had two books to publicise: one was a children's book called Goddess: 50 Goddesses, Spirits, Saints And Other Female Figures Who Have Shaped Belief, and the other was an adult book called Femina: a new history of the Middle Ages, through the women written out of it. 

Both looked and sounded fascinating. Janina was asked to write the first one - published by the British Museum - during lockdown. She admitted that she thought it first it would be easy - she'd just retell a few stories. But research is what she does, and she soon dived into seeking out less obvious stories from all over the world - and of course she couldn't really understand the stories without finding out about the culture and history of the people who had told them, and so, in short, it became a much bigger task than she had anticipated - but clearly, a very rewarding one.

As for Femina, the subtitle (see above) sets out clearly the aim of this book. As background, Janina told us about how her fascination for the Middle (and so-called Dark) Ages came about, and showed lots of slides to demonstrate how skilled these people were as artists, craftspeople and so on - and explained how women played important parts: in fact, she suggested, in terms of equality we've regressed since then. I was very pleased that one of her subjects was the wonderful Aethelflaed, daughter of Alfred the Great and Lady of the Mercians - who was a great leader, but was virtually written out of history by her brother Edward. (I wrote a children's book about her and her father, Warrior King, and became fascinated by her - had never heard of her till I started to research the book, which speaks volumes.)

Am very much looking forward to reading both of these. And seriously - if you get the chance to hear her speak, please seize it. Everyone came out of her talk with a smile on their face, and we surely need all the smiles we can get these days. She was SUCH fun!

Michael Morpurgo's talk was very different. His subject was serious: he was talking about why he has written so many books for children which concern war. He spoke eloquently and passionately about writing for children, and he speaks, of course, as someone who has not only written many much-loved books for children, but who also set up farm holidays for city children, which have benefitted thousands. He talked about the origins of Warhorse and Private Peaceful and many others, explaining how they are usually inspired by a real-life story. It wasn't all serious; he was self-deprecating and funny.

But the stand-out moment came at the end of the talk, when everyone thought the performance was finished. It wasn't. If you've seen the National Theatre production of Warhorse, you'll know that there is a folk-singer in it, who acts as a kind of one-man Greek chorus. The most famous song he sings is called 'Only Remember.' Michael, sitting in his chair, with no accompaniment and no fanfare, began to sing it, his voice steady and true. Many of us found ourselves joining in the chorus. It was one of those spell-binding moments that you sometimes get in a theatre, but which I don't remember experiencing in a festival talk before. (Just as a postscript, it struck me afterwards that he didn't actually mention the book he has recently had published. That is not at all usual at literary festivals!)

And finally to Melvyn Bragg, and his memoir of his childhood, Back in the Day. Perhaps strangely, for one who is so used to talking, it soon became clear that he didn't at all like talking about himself - people didn't do that back in the day, in the small Cumbrian town where he still has a house. Fortunately, he had writer and academic Sarah LeFanu  interviewing him, and she drew him out with consummate gentleness and skill. And so he spoke about his parents, his friends, and how happy his childhood was - though, as is the case for many of us, his teenage years were far less joyous. Yet another book I'm very much looking forward to reading.