Before I travelled somewhere (I used to travel a lot, pre-2020) I would try to work out in advance where I had to go, the route from airport or train station to apartment or hostel, what bus to take, or the direction to walk in. (Once I’d dropped off my bags then I could walk out with a great sense of freedom, to wander and explore.) I know my limitations, my hopeless sense of direction. My inner bird-migration system, attunement to electro-magnetic currents, does not work, perhaps because of interference from the over-active verbal part of the brain. Perhaps if I just breathed, and stopped talking to myself ….
It was my first visit to Cheltenham, a few days ago, to attend the marvellous Cheltenham Literary Festival.
Once I had checked into my apartment, I went out in the evening to explore, mainly to locate Montpellier Gardens, where I would speak the next day. Finding it, after asking directions from a couple of people, very friendly and helpful, was easy enough, but when I left, and it was quite dark by this time, I did not remember the way I came, and set off in the opposite direction. More people had to be asked, and when I found myself on the Promenade, with the lovely Neptune’s Fountain, I knew that the water god would guide me, (Neptune being the direction of travel for me) and all would be well, even though I could not at all understand how my apartment had relocated itself in a different direction.
Things were easier in the morning, in daylight, and I went the long way round, via Neptune’s fountain. Because I wanted to see it again and give thanks, and because it was the only way I was sure of.
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| Montpellier Gardens, Cheltenham |
My talk came under the banner of Meet the Publisher and I was representing Istros Books, some of whose titles I have reviewed, (such as Olja Knežević's Catherine the Great and the Small & Alma Lazrevska’s Death in the Museum of Modern Art), proofread, and edited.
The talk was a conversation with the energetic & inspiring Ann Morgan. As the Literary Explorer in Residence at the Festival, she was working hard. Not just in conversation with various speakers, she also ran ‘Incomprehension Workshops’, derived from her year of reading books from all over the world, literally, a book from every country in the world. You can find her blog here
In the workshop, she handed out excerpts from a few translated books and invited the audience to remark on any passages, phrases or use of language that are unusual for English speakers, strike a different note or are not immediately comprehensible or even don’t make sense for us. She showed how this need not be a barrier and can even be a good thing, leaving the reader to make up their own minds, create their own mental images, fill in the blanks themselves. She also invited people to make a guess at the country of origin of the original book, and why we thought that. Many different answers, and great fun.
Other talks I went to included the great Mary Beard’s Images of Power; Willem-Jan Verlinden’s discussion of his book Van Gogh’s Sisters; the International Literary Editors, (Martin Doyle from The Irish Times, Ijoma Mangold from Die Zeit and Pamela Paul from the New York Times), in conversation with Clare Clark; Meet the Publisher Charco Press; & Identity Crisis? The Mixed-Race Experience, chaired by Rosie Goldsmith, with writers Remi Adekoya (Biracial Britain) Georgina Lawton (Raceless) and Ijoma Mangold (The German Crocodile).
All this resulted of course, in some new book acquisitions, and ideas for many more. I have given up trying to curb my book buying tendencies, it doesn’t work.
Leaving the Montpellier Gardens in daylight, before returning for evening talks, it was easy to find a shortcut to my apartment. The weather was warm, the sun was shining, some of the trees turning russet and just beginning to discard their leaves, with a few rustling underfoot on the pavements. The Georgian architecture in this former spa town gives a restful feeling, a shimmer of opulence and well-being. So of course Neptune would be at home here. I felt it too, warmth, sunshine and tree shadows, it was like being in another country, exploring new places. And walking through the streets, I feel an unforgettable sense of belonging.
PS And, though I didn’t notice her while I was there, I found out that another friend, Hygeia, goddess of health, is also present in Cheltenham, along with her father Asclepios, the dream healer. Their statues are on the roof above the Pump Room, both with snakes, symbol of healing, still used today.
Hygeia in Cheltenham
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