SYDNEY WRITERS FESTIVAL 2007

Among the contingent of New Zealanders attending this Festival last week was one with more than a passing interest in proceedings, Anne O'Brien, who is Writers & Readers Manager for the New Zealand International Arts Festival.

Here are her observations.

Seven days, 426 writers, 325 events … to co-opt the words of the marketing pitch, Sydney was “a city transformed by words” French, English, Chinese, German, written, spoken, performed.

Sydney Theatre and the piers of Hicksons’ Wharf, within a couple of minutes walk of each other, are a great setting for a celebration of books, particularly when the Sydney weather gods deliver their autumnal best. Luckily they did. Because, with 80% of all events free and unticketed, and with every visiting writer making at least one free appearance, there were lines of people queuing outside for hours for almost everything. And for those who couldn’t get in, selected sessions were relayed over loud speakers offering the opportunity to sit on the wharf sleepers in the sun and eavesdrop.

There was an abundance of ingredients for a fine time: Richard Dawkins beamed in by satellite; opening and closing events by Andrew O’Hagan (NZ Festival guest in 2002) and Ayaan Hirsi Ali provided outstanding book ends; Richard Ford, Pico Iyer and Eliot Weinberger (all previous NZ Festival guests), as well as Janette Turner Hospital, Bei Dao, Ruby Langford-Ginibi, William Dalrymple, Daniel Mendelsohn and our own Commonwealth Writers Prize winner Lloyd Jones were just a small selection of those who strutted their stuff. There were sessions on genre and landscape and history, and on the world as it is and was and may be. A truly international perspective being one of the joys of a great Festival, China, Canada, Antarctica, Germany, India, New Zealand were all represented and more besides including, of course, Australia.

My personal highlight was a well-chaired panel with Meg Rosoff, Mohsin Hamid, Richard Flanagan, Emily Maguire and Adib Khan eloquently exploring the idea of terrorism as the ultimate failure of empathy whilst pursuing a parallel conversation about novel writing as an ultimate act of empathy. My most disappointing, the Town Hall session with legal and journalist panel members on David Hicks and Guantanamo which degenerated into a speakers corner soapbox event with little coherence. In between were some fine writers and readings, varying degrees of stimulating conversation and a sense that the world of words and ideas is alive and well-nourished.

It’s a big gig and big doesn’t always mean better. As might be expected, the vast number and range of events meant discernible variations in the quality of sessions, chairs and writing, plus technology didn’t always deliver. Also, with so many people attending, it took a day or two to get the audience traffic to run smoothly, as well as contain the external noise which was sometimes loud and distracting. These issues were largely mitigated by most events being free and by a democratic disregard for politeness - people walked in and out of free sessions continuously, hoping to get to other sessions or just opting for a bit of a breather when the brain was overloaded or the conversation not quite delivering.

Ultimately, a stimulating and exhausting experience with much to recommend it, albeit with the wee caveat that any bigger might just prove all too large.

Sydney Writers Festival.