Tag Archives: ALMA

From ALMA laureate to ALMA laureate

My immediate reaction this week when the new Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award winner was announced, was the usual one; that the members of the jury are really good at picking obscure people. But then, I dare say others thought that about my favourite, last year’s winner Meg Rosoff. We can’t all have heard of everyone. Besides, I’d been expecting an organisation to be chosen this year. I felt it was time.

So Wolf Erlbruch was a completely new name to me. Except, the mention of tulips rang a vague bell in the deepest corners of my memory. And Meg was so happy about the winner. She clearly knew Wolf.

And I Googled, as I tend to do. Yes, she had definitely mentioned Wolf Erlbruch in the past, and the tulip. And apart from her review in the Guardian of his book Duck, Death and the Tulip, I am fairly certain she had enthused about it privately to me as well.* As I said, it rang a bell, and the ringing got louder the more I thought.

My next memory was that I had read it. Except, I don’t believe I have. I’d have reviewed it myself if I’d read the book, and I hadn’t. (Please correct me if I’m wrong.) But I distinctly recall being sent a book that supposedly was the one Meg loved so much, and me reading it. Because I remember the publisher and where they are based.

I am so confused. I obviously must make amends and get on and read something, and tulips seem like a Bookwitchy place to start.

This award winning is like a relay; one winner absolutely adoring the next one, and so on…

*Yeah, looked it up. She did, and perhaps I happened to ignore her advice.

Bookwitch bites #141

I was sad to learn that Barrington Stoke’s MD Mairi Kidd has been made redundant. Apart from the effect on Mairi’s personal life, this news makes me want to ask questions. Are times that bad? Is it fair to ask other staff to share her tasks between them? Is the work MDs do so easy to ignore? What will happen to Barrington Stoke now? There has been a lot more noise on social media about this than after your average publishing news, which shows the standing Mairi has enjoyed at the helm of an inspiring company.

Kiran Millwood Hargrave has won the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize for her debut book The Girl of Ink & Stars, and writer and illustrator Lizzy Stewart won the Illustrated Books category with There’s a Tiger in the Garden, and Patrice Lawrence’s Orangeboy won the Older Fiction category.

Miaow. Gothenburg library is to get its own resident cat. Astrid. Or not. Seems it was merely an April fool thing, which is just as well, as I and many others could foresee problems with this lovely idea. I know it is meant to be good for people and it will lower your blood pressure and you’ll be much happier and all that. But I have often wondered what it’s like for those who are not too keen on pets. While some people are busy feeling better for the presence of the new cat/dog/ferret, it’s not only those who are allergic who might suffer. It could be that after enough time anyone would get so used to the pet that all our blood pressures become just perfect. Or maybe the pressure rises as your level of fear shoots up?

And while we are on the subject of Astrid, this year’s winner of the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award is Wolf Erlbruch, ‘a German illustrator and picturebook author. He is best known for his illustrations of The Story of the Little Mole Who Knew It Was None of His Business, which became a great success around the world. Wolf Erlbruch has written some ten books of his own and illustrated nearly fifty titles by other authors.’

Congratulations to Wolf!

Tunnel vision?

Another ‘interesting’ thing that happened at the Gothenburg book fair was caused by me eating Daughter’s ancient saffron bun from December. I grabbed the last one from her freezer and two and a half days later I came to be eating it as I was gathering my thoughts in the corridor by the press centre.

It was dry, but it was food, and after a while the woman sitting in the armchair opposite me asked where on Earth I’d got hold of a saffron bun in September. One thing led to another, so we were soon chatting. I told her about Bookwitch, and she told me about Nya Tider. Neither of us was well informed about the other’s interests.

If you look up Nya Tider on Wikipedia it will describe it as a right extremist magazine. It seems they booked a stall at the fair, and when the fair organisers realised what they’d done, they tried to ban them. But a contract is a contract, so they got in. I’m tempted to feel they have the right to be there, but that all the extra attention was unfortunate.

My new ‘friend’ clearly liked them. They might even have been the only reason she had come. She abhors the tunnel vision you get from the ‘corridor of opinion’ which she kept referring to. Apparently Nya Tider tells it like it is.

It was an interesting conversation, which began in normality and ended up – very politely and in a civilised manner – at some place I’d not expected to visit. She finished by telling me about something she’d read in the Guardian online, and I sincerely hope she was mistaken.

I suppose it was for the best that I’d never heard of the magazine as we chatted, or I’d have found it hard to keep going. Most of my enlightenment has come from looking things up afterwards.

One other thing I found odd. Swedes are crazy about books and that’s why they come to the fair. She was a regular, as far as I could ascertain. I told her about being there for Meg Rosoff. She’d never heard of her, which is fine. But she’d also never heard of the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, which is also fine, but seems plain weird.

It was around this point that Meg turned up. I didn’t introduce them. Probably just as well.

At last! Meg at Bokmässan!

A mere eleven years after I told people in no uncertain terms that they must invite Meg Rosoff to the Gothenburg book fair, she’s finally here. She only had to go and win the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award for it to happen, but at least she got here in the end. And it’s not just me who’s happy. A great many people have gone all star struck over meeting Meg, so I reckon this is a good thing. I’d like to think I helped, but I probably didn’t.

Gothenburg book fair

And I actually didn’t run up to her when I first saw her yesterday, feeling she might need the respite. Five minutes later I knocked on her back, however, as she was waiting to go on for her first of four events, one of the many free floor events they put on in Gothenburg, meaning you can see your stars without forking out a fortune. Or being a librarian. I was introduced to Helen Sigeland from ALMA, who remembered meeting Son a few months ago. (There’s no stopping this family.) I also accidentally saw Meg’s iPhone password when she needed to show me a photo from Tasmania… As you do.

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Talking to Boel Westin, she covered everything from getting the news of the award (good news can be as much of a shock as bad news), believing they’d made a mistake, past the prairie of silence when you need to start a new book (generally early January), the sexy horse book, her mother’s dog who is not allowed on the couch, and possibly basing her male and female characters on her husband and their daughter. A little.

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One hour later it was the turn of magazine Vi Läser to host Meg at their stall, and the seats were long gone (so I borrowed one from the University of Lund). The conversation was slightly different, and Meg talked about the beginnings of her adult novel Jonathan Unleashed, and leaving Penguin over it. At the signing afterwards I tried to buy a couple of copies of Jonathan in Swedish, but as my faithful readers know, you can’t always buy things with cash in this country.

Meg Rosoff at Vi Läser in Gothenburg

Jonathan-less I made my way round the corner to Piratförlaget and their little stage, grabbing a comfy seat early on. Which is where Meg found me, slurping something rather pink. Her slurping; not me. She showed me a photo of her with Patti Smith, so I said they were on at the same time. Meg told me to go and see Patti instead of her, again. Meg also offered to buy me my own pink blueberry yoghurt drink.

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Her lovely interviewer asked Meg about coming to Gothenburg, and she mentioned she’d been hinting for years with no luck, and talked again of the strain of surprise on hearing about the award and how they must have had the wrong number. Many Swedes seem to like What I Was best of Meg’s books, which she – probably accurately – explained by saying how she’d based it on her own ‘feral existence’ in Suffolk, and this is pretty much a Swede’s dream life. Meg told us about her very responsible daughter (she has to be, with a writer and an artist for parents), and how her own mother had confused her early on by saying she was bound to meet Mr Right one day, and how Meg feared she’d be in the wrong place at the crucial time.

It was a good thing I rejected Patti Smith, as the queue for her event was worse even than for Desmond Tutu last time I was here. I and all the librarians managed to sneak past the hordes to get to Meg’s ‘big’ Thursday event, with Boel Westin. I was joined at the last minute by the New Librarian, as well as others made late by the ‘Patti effect.’

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Life after ALMA is fine, with everyone wanting to see her, and travelling like crazy. She’s not writing anything at the moment, and Meg probably wants to remember to pay her car insurance this time, as she finishes her to-do pile. Skirting past the sexy horse book, she told us how she acquired her agent, relishing being told to write ‘as fiercely as you can’ after having grown up being told the opposite. When How I Live Now meant Meg could give up her job, she had to ask how to do this, more used to being fired.

Meg talked about finding one’s voice, (apparently it can be a bit like a horse and its rider), telling us that her husband brings her coffee in bed, and she reckons that for this she will hang on to him. Not being good at remembering things, she suspects that what she does remember will be important. Boel said she feels Meg is good at coming up with great book titles, so we learned about Googling ideas for titles to see if you’re original or not.

She doesn’t know what logarithms are, and sometimes she and her husband wake up to the sudden awareness that they actually live with animals. And art is important, as is thinking about death all the time (Meg not being the type of person who thinks about what car to get). She finished by reading from the Swedish favourite, What I Was.

I saw her again as I was enjoying a well earned armchair rest in a corridor. Meg stopped to say she needed to go and lie down, and she was heading for her hotel room, except she wasn’t entirely sure where it was. I realised belatedly that she was walking in the wrong direction…

Meg in Vi

The most you can hope for in the Swedish press is Jacqueline Wilson. And that’s pushing it. By comparison the British press has articles about and photos of ‘my’ book people ‘all the time.’ So I’m used to encountering familiar faces every now and then.

Meg Rosoff in Vi magazine

And I know there were quite a few articles and interviews with Meg Rosoff in the Swedish newspapers around the ALMA announcement and the prize ceremony. But to find my favourite author number one in my monthly magazine Vi was a bit of a shock. Happy shock, naturally.

It wasn’t exactly a fullblown interview; but more of an invitation for Meg to list three things, in their regular ‘three-thing listing’ feature. And they described her as a terraced house girl, which is a new way of saying… well, I don’t know what they were saying, actually.

Meg Rosoff in Vi magazine

But she likes Catch 22, and Waiting for Godot. And London. Those are Meg’s three things, while in the photo she is brandishing a Sex Pistols mug. They made her grow up. I’m guessing the books, and perhaps London. Not so much the Sex Pistols.

Except, I thought the whole idea was that Meg’s not grown up. She’s our Pippi Longstocking figure, forever young.

Late to the party

She’s by no means ancient, but the Retired Children’s Librarian isn’t as young as she was. So it was much appreciated that she popped round for a couple of days, even if she was late for the party. On purpose.

Plane at Halmstad airport

Flying in from Stockholm to our local, rather small, airport, she wisely refrained from staying with us and went to a hotel in town. We had an Indian dinner, followed by ‘Indian’ coffee, which apparently wasn’t very good. This is a woman who only drinks water and coffee (many years ago when she really wanted to try muesli, she agonised over what liquid to have it with, and opted for coffee…)

I’d hoped to lure her into the – to her – new library, on the way from dinner to bed, but she declared it ugly and said no. I gather she is still in touch with her old boss who keeps her updated on who [from the library] has died in the last year, which is a helpful service to have.

Don Quijote at Särdals Kvarn

We had elevenses at the windmill, and she instantly recognised Don Quijote in the car park. ‘What’s he doing here?’ she asked. I suggested she stop and think about what the good Don usually does, and the penny dropped. (In fairness, my penny took years to drop.)

Went home and I was given my birthday present. We decided this was all right, as she’d not had the official invitation that said presents weren’t allowed. It was a book. Obviously. A new biography of Astrid Lindgren, by Dane Jens Andersen, and it looks very promising indeed.

Jens Andersen, Denna dagen ett liv

Then we fed her leftovers, and she read [my friend] Ingrid Magnusson Rading’s book on the local area, and was most impressed. She enquired about when I last spoke to Meg Rosoff, so I had to own up to having seen her only last week, and went on to show her Bookwitch’s thoughts of it all. The Retired Children’s Librarian is not into computers, so never reads what I write.

I offered her one of our copies of Meg’s I begynnelsen var Bob, but she replied ‘God forbid, no!’ which I suppose was appropriate.

And then she was returned to her hotel. On her request, I hasten to add. She also requested the scenic route via various seasidey places, the best café for coffee and cake, and her old block of flats. Also had a look at where the very young Bookwitch used to live, in the very olden days. A bit overgrown, rather like the witch herself.

How We Live Now

Just in Case.

Bob willing, this is what the Resident IT Consultant and I will be occupying ourselves with. (Although I must point out he is ‘only’ along for the ride because he found out I was intending to travel by train and he wanted to do that too.)

ALMA invite

Picture Me There. I am no longer What I Was, thanks to my fairy Blogmother. There will probably be no dogs, unleashed or otherwise.

And this is only a temporary Bookwitch’s Farewell. Until tomorrow.