Impressions of the Cape Town Book Fair

Nicola Menné

Members of my immediate family did not see me for four days. “Shame,” they said, “you must be exhausted.” Actually, I never wanted it to end – the first Cape Town Book Fair was like a carnival. A four-day long festival that was as much a feast for the mind as it was for the eyes. A spectacular public forum for some of the thoughts I have mulled over in the privacy of my own study, the concerns that have marched through my mind at my desk at work, as well as the topics I have been more vocal about – those things I’ve ranted about at dinner parties with industry friends: “… distribution!”, “… editing!”, “… young writers!”. It all came out in the open and found a home, albeit temporary, in the Cape Town International Convention Centre.

Perhaps the most striking point about the Book Fair was that the industry we sometimes make excuses for (“… because there just aren’t enough book buyers”) found, perhaps for the first time, that it had a voice, and that the voice was loud. There is a reading public, they are buying books, and they came to the Fair in droves. I know of an editor who broke down and cried, just seeing the sheer numbers of people flooding through the doors.

Over four days, inside the main hall, the constant hum and buzz rose at times to a significant clamour with panellists in various seminars competing with the voice of the general announcer, over the screamed strains of “Happy Birthday to You” which floated over from the Kids’ Corner. South African publishers, authors, editors, marketers and sales people walked around incredulous at the turnout, and relieved that venues for carefully organised panel discussions, talks, signings and launches were more often than not full to the brim with an interested public.

On this score, we cannot underestimate the impact of advertising on the turnout: the blue Book Fair flags fluttered on lampposts all the way to the airport and around the CTICC, and there was extensive media coverage in the build-up to the Fair. It would seem that marketing actually works.

Convinced, after months of anticipation, of the professionalism with which the fair was being conducted, and with the greater than expected turnout to show for it, the industry breathed a collective sigh of relief. And then there was a new feeling: camaraderie, as publishers visited the stands of other publishers and chatted over issues of collective interest.

That is not to say that the industry is without disagreements – there was certainly no lack of debate, friendly or otherwise. We heard multiple viewpoints at the Sunday Times stand in the debate about plagiarism, and the seemingly contentious issue “Where are all the young black writers?” was resolutely quashed by Zakes Mda’s assertion that they do exist, and that it was, in fact, “a stupid question”.

Nor was the Fair without its share of weirdos, rouges and cultural rebels – a couple of strange encounters in the passages reminded me that publishing is not always the most moderate of industries.

But on the whole, a glass of wine at an evening launch was all that was needed to maintain publishing’s own sense of sobriety, as well as the convivial atmosphere that had settled over the Fair.

We’ve all learnt that there are things we would like to improve on next year: we want to sell more books, be more wary of book theft, have more staff available for consultation, provide more drinking water at our stands, and invest in louder PA systems. I, for one, am grateful for Kwela’s morning muffins, Paarl Print’s biltong and Flame Design’s champagne, for otherwise I surely would have keeled over and died for lack of sustenance by the end of day four.

Over-stimulation, crazy people, exhaustion and starvation aside, I knew it had been a good thing when I walked to my car at the end of the last day of the Fair, and I didn’t want to leave. So I dumped the box of newly acquired unsolicited manuscripts in my boot, called a publishing friend, and headed back into the Convention Centre. Judging by the number of authors and publishers in the Marimba Bar that evening, I guess they felt it too.

LitNet: 5 July 2006

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