Review of the first weekend of Ilkley Literature Festival

INEVITABLY, the pandemic invited itself to the LitFest.

Ian McMillan’s latest book commission was to be fifty snapshots of coastal Britain. This rapidly mutated into memories, with just a few recent shots taken in the fresh air. Fortunately, the Bard of Barnsley has vivid recall; he shared his childhood journeys in the blue Ford Zephyr (with Granny in the back and the AA map’s guidance) as well as later escapades, with his usual verve. If you missed this Festival opener, the book (My Sand Life, My Pebble Life) is well worth a look. Lots of humour and nostalgia, some pathos – and that unmistakable voice.

Ian McMillan with a happy reader

Amy-Jane Beer also found lockdown made research difficult for The Flow, her exploration of springs, streams and rivers, here and abroad. While travelling was problematic, this work, sparked by the death of a friend when kayaking, is more personal and reflective than her previous scientific studies, an approach perhaps favoured by limited movement. The combination of scholarship and introspection is enchanting, pervaded by huge respect for water in all its forms. Beer’s Festival presentation made a strong case for such respect and gave food for thought. Wild swimming, for example, is all very well. But sun cream, perfume and deodorants are bad for wildlife. And who knew that spot flea treatment for dogs contains substances banned in agriculture and so toxic that one dose can kill millions of bees?

Two detective stories made for compulsive listening. In 1903, the lawyer son of a Parsee Christian clergyman in a West Midlands village was accused of mutilating cattle and horses. Unable to convince the (doubtless racially motivated) police of his innocence, George Edalji wrote to Conan Doyle for help. He responded in true Sherlock Holmes style. Shrabani Basu traced the story to its roots – notably in Conan Doyle papers recently auctioned at Bonhams – and has written a fascinating account. If all that sounds far-fetched, head for Basu’s book, The Mystery of the Parsee Lawyer, and see for yourself! The other story promised to be harrowing. Emma Kennedy’s mother had a severe mental illness which was never addressed and which nobody talked about. The effects on her family were profound and, when Kennedy discovered a cache of her mother’s letters, she determined to try to work out exactly what the problem had been. The tears I was expecting became tears of laughter as she recounted tales of this beautiful, damaged woman and her genuine empathy was astonishing. Letters from Brenda is a must-read – or a must-listen, as Kennedy reads the audio version herself with Juliet Stevenson as her mother.

Saima Mir’s The Khan is a crime novel, so detection plays a part. But her conversation with Kasim Ali saw families also at the forefront. Taboos and expectations, the complication of finding one’s true self against cultural norms, the experience of growing up in a multi-racial society and breaking (and mending) bonds made for an enlightening discussion. The canvas in both The Khan and Good Intentions widens to include London and the provinces, giving thought-provoking background to two great stories.