Leukerbad is a mountain resort in the Swiss Alps, known for its ski facilities and its baths. Ten years ago, Ricco Bilger, the son of the local hair dresser, started a literary festival in Leukerbad. At that time, his mother was running a small book store, and I guess that he started the festival to attract more customers to the bookstore.
Ten years later, the bookstore has disappeared, but the festival is still there. It has a following among Swiss, German and Austrian book lovers. Raymond Federman, Durs Grünbein, Amira Hass, Hugo Loetscher, A.L. Kennedy and Wolf Wondratschek, are a few of the authors who have travelled to Leukerbad to read in old swimming pools, on the main square when it's not raining too hard, or at midnight on a glacier which can only be reached by a ski lift. This must have been one of the most adventurous readings in the history of literature.
I was invited to the festival of 2005, and Leukerbad is one of the most charming and well-organized festivals I have attended. All the authors get a discount coupon for a haircut at Ricco’s mother’s salon.
But then, of course, the question remains: what's the purpose of listening to authors while you can read their work in your comfortable hotel room?
Not all the readings were as powerful as the locations. The Swedish poet Lars Gustafsson might be a wonderful poet, but after listening and watching him, I had the feeling that his sandals were better than his words.
The most interestingly dressed author during the 2005 festival was, without any serious competition, Ira Cohen from New York. He also won the prize for the best beard. Ira Cohen claimed to be famous, was very kind, and didn't let me go without giving me his complete work, some of which he had copied himself.
I asked a better-informed friend from New York about Ira Cohen and he answered, “Oh, what a blast from the past.” But what's a literary festival without a blast from the past?