Arnon Grunberg
Words Without Borders

Sydney Writer's Festival: Part Two

And now a few words about the signing line.
The signing line is a group of readers, collectors, groupies, and women hoping to find someone who is worth a few more dollars than whoever they picked up last time, all standing in line to have their books signed by the author.
If this doesn’t sound bad enough, there is something called the competitive signing line.
This a group of authors--eight, sixteen, forty-four (think of BEA)--sitting behind a table as if they were immigration officers, waiting for customers while eyeing the competition.
After the Big Reading at the Sydney Theatre, part of the Sydney Writers’ Festival, the authors were whisked away by a female technician of the Sydney Theatre. I was one of them. This woman seemed to hate mankind in general and to despise authors even more. She clearly enjoyed escorting the authors to a signing room on the first floor.
There were six writers. The room was big enough to hold as many people as fit in a Boeing 747, well, an Airbus 319.
I was seated next to John Banville.
There was, I have to say, no rush to the signing table. But after a few minutes people started dripping in.
A little fewer than ten for Lynn Freed, a few for John Banville, who clearly had expected more than the wonderful ladies who showed up with his books.
After having signed six novels, he put his hands on my shoulder and said, “Soon it will be over.” I have to admit that I was the only author with the final result of zero books signed.
And it must have been clear to the bystanders that I was willing to sign anything, a taxi receipt, a postcard, a beer coaster.
Maybe an author should never walk away from being humiliated, a big and wonderful source of inspiration. But sometimes during this marvelous process of humiliation, a unexpected desire pops up in the head of the author, a thing called the death wish.
In the next blog: short but intense meetings with comedian Andy Borowitz, melancholic dinner conversations with novelist/virtual artist Audrey Niffenegger, and how I took revenge by signing five books (or was it four?) after an event mysteriously called “bloody hilarious readings.”


200520062007200820092010

JanuaryFebruaryMarchAprilMayJuneJulyAugustSeptemberOctoberNovemberDecember

31017242831