Gathering around the Home Fire
Ōtepoti/Dunedin literature lover Dianne Brown has seen a few festivals in her time. This year we asked her to bring her expertise as a speaker and as a spectator. Read on for her reflections….
I’ve been attending literary festivals sometimes to read, often to listen for the last thirty years. So, I could be seen to be a little jaded, a little hard to please. In 2023, I attended the Auckland Readers and Writers Festival. The foyer was thronging with people, most of whom I didn’t know, some of whom I recognised as literary stars, surrounded by adoring or annoying fans. It didn’t seem an inclusive space. Still, I wrote an essay for Landfall, which explored the moments when I’d been captured by an image or words, and the moments I struggled with my own sense of irrelevance and the fact I no longer felt at home in my hometown.
So, it’s with some sense of ennui that I attend the 2025 Dunedin Writers and Readers Festival. With my own session Celebrating the Short Form scheduled for Sunday evening I have the whole weekend stretching ahead of me. Plus on Thursday evening there’s a launch of the 250th edition of Landfall (now Landfall Tauraka) and a symposium on the Friday. Will I have the stamina for three whole days of people and words, or will I fall asleep on stage come Sunday?
Despite being late for the Friday evening bus trip to the marae, I’m warmly welcomed on board, where I make up for my missing nana nap by staring out at the fading light on the calm harbour which is absolutely showing off. There’s more deserved showing off at Ahi Kā at Ōtākou Marae. I forget to wear socks, so my feet are cold, but my blood is stirred by the first speakers, Apirana Taylor, Megan Pōtiki, Tāme Iti, Jeanette Wikaira, and Talia Marshall. Our pukus are filled with a magnificent supper, chowder, fish, boil up pork, and fantastic salads and young energetic singers entertain us. After dinner I play the age card and ride home with friends, sad that I’m missing out on more speakers but knowing I have to pace myself.
On Saturday my husband and I work out complicated arrangement of picks ups and drops off as we are spoilt for choice. This isn’t a festival designed to solely appeal to the majority of book buyers, older women. Duncan Sarkies and Dominic Hooey are funny and provocative. A friend complains to me of their swearing. I laugh, remembering being at a Going West Festival in Titirangi, when the photographer, Marti Friedlander stood up during a novel reading. ‘Excuse me, why do your characters swear so much. It’s so tedious.’ The writer, (whose name I can’t remember) protested. ‘I’m reflecting how young men speak,’ he said. ‘Well, I don’t want to hear it,’ Marti said. Those unscripted moments when audiences were less well behaved, could be funny, aggravating or electrifying.
Telling Truth Through Fiction and The Architecture of Experience in the afternoon are engaging and thought provoking. In one corner, someone’s helping kids stick brightly coloured wool, into a frame. It’s unexpected for a book festival and looks fun but I’m too intent on making it to the next session.
My session, Celebrating the Short Form in Many Languages is on Sunday afternoon and competing with Grant Robertson. Still, there’s a good audience and intelligent questions. I do not fall asleep.
Having most sessions in one space gives the festival an inclusive atmosphere. The organisers and helpers are unfailingly welcoming. I am encouraged by seeing lots of younger people, both participants and in the audience. Dunedin’s Writers and Readers Festival is in good heart, nourished by a warm fire. I feel at home.