Sauntering on to the stage like someone who has never felt nervous in his life, Will Self began his talk at the Ilkley Literature Festival with hotels. “Hotels are all part of a mass deception – they try and make you forget what’s happened in that bed you’re lying in.” Until Self starts to talk about his artistic narrative decisions in his new book, Shark, you probably could have mistaken him for a stand up comedian. Yet, his intricate attention to technique, and his insistence on the importance of the oral and the aural as part of literature, reaffirms his standing as one of the most interesting and eloquent writers of today.
Often watching authors on stage can be unsettling – they’re used to solitude, and public talks can be above and beyond their expectations of what being an author entailed. Sometimes, authors are far more boring than their fascinating writing would have us think. This disjunct is not surprising – why should we expect authors to be interesting? Luckily, for myself and the audience of Ilkley King’s Hall, Will Self is actually pretty entertaining. He certainly knows a lot of big words. Well done him.
His self assured and, at times, patronising (at one point he uses an obscure word, and then, presuming the audience doesn’t know its meaning, explains it) attitude, is certainly off-putting, but he manages to get away with it by being altogether quite funny. He deals with some of his criticisms, namely that his books are offputtingly difficult, acknowledging that elements of his books are a little abnormal. “I got rid of the simple past” Self announces, to an audience worryingly wracking their grammar knowledge. “Life doesn’t exist in the past, it exists in the present.”
Self read an extract from Shark, choosing a violent moment when the USS Indianopolis has just been hit by a missile, and the crew are trying to avoid drowning and being eaten by sharks. Whether you like Self’s writing or not, focusing the book on such grotesquely intriguing historical events bodes well for potential readers (or listeners). Except, Self doesn’t read the extract, he performs it. The narrative style is unique, incorperating advertising slogans and the sort of melodic internal interludes that we all have at some point or other.
No matter how much of a pretentious prat Will Self can seem to be, he’s a charismatic performer, and a bloody interesting writer. At every possible moment, he takes the opportunity to familiarise himself with the audience – he gives every question respectful consideration, and acknowledges that whilst we may be a mass of people, we are made up of individuals. Funny, articulate, and quite tall – Self is an enjoyable watch, and a rewarding read.
Ruby Lott- Lavigna
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