book festival randomness
I've spent the past two days at a book festival here in Lund. The downside is that I get a bit tired during two whole days of lectures and book talks. The upside is that I get to hear lots of authors and other smart people talk about books, and I get paid for it. :-)
Got Randa Abdel-Fattah's new book signed. At first I thought I'd get it for my dad as a Christmas present, but then I realized that it meant keeping it in my home for two months and NOT READ IT so in the end I got it for myself. Have read about 100 pages so far and I like it just as well as the first one. Sure, it's a bit on the shallow side, but considering the bleakness of Swedish YA novels (Peter Pohl, anyone?) that's not necessarily a bad thing.
***
Funniest people were without a doubt Jonas Hassen Khemiri (who's also an incredibly beautiful man I'd be hopelessly in love with if he was just the tiniest bit shorter) and Anthony Horowitz - which is amusing since they seem to be very different as authors. I've never read anything by either of them, but I probably should.
A funny bit from Horowitz's talk that I've already shared with roseveare:
He wrote a book of short stories that said "eight stories by Anthony Horowitz" but in fact there were nine (or if he said there were seven and there were eight, whatever). The last story pretended to be by a mad person who had sneaked it into the pile of short stories at the publisher's, and at the end it said, "Go read this story from the start and take the first letter of each sentence, it will give you a message." The message was "I will follow you home and kill you."
This got AH his one and only letter of complaint from a mother who said her daughter Emily had been scared shitless and couldn't sleep. AH wrote a very kind letter explaining to Emily that it was all fiction and that he was sorry she had been scared. However, if you took the first letter of each sentence of that letter, it said, "I will kill you too."
I find it wrong to intentionally freak out kids who are already losing sleep, but I'm amused anyway. :-)
***
And, y'know, if you want to know how to add a queer dimension to children's books without making it lewd or political or whatever, Pija Lindenbaum may be a good author to start reading. If you don't want to know, read her anyway, because she's just that good.
***
Rounding off this post, not everything was talks. Georg Riedel with pianist and singer (I think the latter was his daughter) did a lovely musical session, largely with music from Astrid Lindgren films but also some other stuff. I discovered that even an instrumental version of Fattig Bonddräng (from the Emil stories) can make me cry - I just have to think the text.
So, for those of you who speak Swedish (or just like a nicely sung tune), here's Tommy Körberg singing Fattig Bonddräng. And for those of you who don't, here's a quick translation of the lyrics:
Lowly* Farmhand (Lindgren/Riedel)
I'm a lowly farmhand, living my life.
Days pass by and I keep working.
I harrow, sow, plow, clean, dig and carry,
walk behind the oxen, shouting, whistling and cursing.
I'm a lowly farmhand, and I chew my tobacco.
When Saturday comes around, I like to get drunk.
Then, once I'm cheerful, I get ready to tussle.
Of course, I also want a girl in my bed.
Then Sunday comes, and our priest wants
for me to go to church, but I'd rather stay asleep.
I bet the priest can sleep all Monday long,
but for a lowly farmhand work starts again.
That's the way the week passes, all days, all years.
I walk there with my scythe, and I plow, and I sow.
I drive the oxen, and I dry the hay.
All work, work, work, and eventually I'll die.
I stand there, lowly farmhand, by the gates of Heaven,
a bit afraid and sad about all the sins I've committed.
You're not supposed to get drunk, sleep with girls, or fight.
The Lord God in Heaven must be very displeased with me.
But then the Lord says: Lowly farmhand, come here!
I have seen your struggle and your constant hard work.
Because of that, lowly farmhand, you are welcome here.
Because of that, lowly farmhand, you shall be dear to me.
And I, lowly farmhand, stand there so still in front of God.
And he dresses me in the most snow white clothes.
Now, says the Lord, your work is done.
Now, lowly farmhand, it's time for you to rest.
*The word is technically "poor", but in the sense of poverty, not pity, so I felt "lowly" was more suitable for the lyrics. Feel free to disagree. :-)
Got Randa Abdel-Fattah's new book signed. At first I thought I'd get it for my dad as a Christmas present, but then I realized that it meant keeping it in my home for two months and NOT READ IT so in the end I got it for myself. Have read about 100 pages so far and I like it just as well as the first one. Sure, it's a bit on the shallow side, but considering the bleakness of Swedish YA novels (Peter Pohl, anyone?) that's not necessarily a bad thing.
***
Funniest people were without a doubt Jonas Hassen Khemiri (who's also an incredibly beautiful man I'd be hopelessly in love with if he was just the tiniest bit shorter) and Anthony Horowitz - which is amusing since they seem to be very different as authors. I've never read anything by either of them, but I probably should.
A funny bit from Horowitz's talk that I've already shared with roseveare:
He wrote a book of short stories that said "eight stories by Anthony Horowitz" but in fact there were nine (or if he said there were seven and there were eight, whatever). The last story pretended to be by a mad person who had sneaked it into the pile of short stories at the publisher's, and at the end it said, "Go read this story from the start and take the first letter of each sentence, it will give you a message." The message was "I will follow you home and kill you."
This got AH his one and only letter of complaint from a mother who said her daughter Emily had been scared shitless and couldn't sleep. AH wrote a very kind letter explaining to Emily that it was all fiction and that he was sorry she had been scared. However, if you took the first letter of each sentence of that letter, it said, "I will kill you too."
I find it wrong to intentionally freak out kids who are already losing sleep, but I'm amused anyway. :-)
***
And, y'know, if you want to know how to add a queer dimension to children's books without making it lewd or political or whatever, Pija Lindenbaum may be a good author to start reading. If you don't want to know, read her anyway, because she's just that good.
***
Rounding off this post, not everything was talks. Georg Riedel with pianist and singer (I think the latter was his daughter) did a lovely musical session, largely with music from Astrid Lindgren films but also some other stuff. I discovered that even an instrumental version of Fattig Bonddräng (from the Emil stories) can make me cry - I just have to think the text.
So, for those of you who speak Swedish (or just like a nicely sung tune), here's Tommy Körberg singing Fattig Bonddräng. And for those of you who don't, here's a quick translation of the lyrics:
Lowly* Farmhand (Lindgren/Riedel)
I'm a lowly farmhand, living my life.
Days pass by and I keep working.
I harrow, sow, plow, clean, dig and carry,
walk behind the oxen, shouting, whistling and cursing.
I'm a lowly farmhand, and I chew my tobacco.
When Saturday comes around, I like to get drunk.
Then, once I'm cheerful, I get ready to tussle.
Of course, I also want a girl in my bed.
Then Sunday comes, and our priest wants
for me to go to church, but I'd rather stay asleep.
I bet the priest can sleep all Monday long,
but for a lowly farmhand work starts again.
That's the way the week passes, all days, all years.
I walk there with my scythe, and I plow, and I sow.
I drive the oxen, and I dry the hay.
All work, work, work, and eventually I'll die.
I stand there, lowly farmhand, by the gates of Heaven,
a bit afraid and sad about all the sins I've committed.
You're not supposed to get drunk, sleep with girls, or fight.
The Lord God in Heaven must be very displeased with me.
But then the Lord says: Lowly farmhand, come here!
I have seen your struggle and your constant hard work.
Because of that, lowly farmhand, you are welcome here.
Because of that, lowly farmhand, you shall be dear to me.
And I, lowly farmhand, stand there so still in front of God.
And he dresses me in the most snow white clothes.
Now, says the Lord, your work is done.
Now, lowly farmhand, it's time for you to rest.
*The word is technically "poor", but in the sense of poverty, not pity, so I felt "lowly" was more suitable for the lyrics. Feel free to disagree. :-)