'A school without a library is like a hospital without medicine'
Recommendations and life lessons from the Cambridge Literary Festival
Cast your mind back to late April. Was it a dark, morally confusing, culturally barren time? Of course it was - the internet’s only classic-literature-themed advice column went dark for a spell. For two weeks, you were adrift in a suddenly incomprehensible world, unable to navigate life’s problems without insights from Austen and Aristotle. Instead of even attempting to make decisions larger than opening a box of cereal, you simply stayed in bed; refreshing the Substack app with trembling hands and trying to make sense of your old school notes on the Romantic poets (keats = short king?).
Never fear: I have resumed my weekly posts this May, responding to a reader who asked ‘Am I a boring person?’, using Pride and Prejudice’s Mr Collins as a case study on tedious conversationalists; as well as exploring the perils of social media addiction through the lens of Vincenzo Latronico’s Perfection. But this week, I’m going to explain why I was briefly away from my desk: partly due to a big TV writing deadline, and partly because I was back in my home-town Cambridge, working at the Literary Festival. This means that while I am a little behind on answering your submissions to Fictional Therapy, I do have new literary lessons and recommendations for you, gleaned from the excellent authors I worked with at CLF, from
to - both brilliant Substackers in their own right - go check out their work!And if you enjoy this post, you could take a look at a similar article I wrote last November, about CLF events with writers like David Nicholls and Hollie McNish.
Anthony Horowitz’s tip for writing dialogue: listen to actors
If you are a millennial like me, the first line of Anthony Horowitz’s Alex Rider series is probably burned into your memory: ‘When the doorbell rings at three in the morning, it's never good news.’ I still think this is one of the great opening lines of fiction: so much story, action and suspense in a handful of words. But my main takeaway from Horowitz’s event - a literary lunch in which he talked about his whole career, as well as his latest novel Marble Hall Murders - was just how much more he’d done than Alex Rider; how exceptionally prolific he is. Like, I’d completely forgotten that Anthony Horowitz created the TV show Foyle’s War. And then wrote three James Bond novels and the two officially sanctioned Sherlock books (The House of Silk; Moriarty). Plus half a dozen other TV shows and mystery series. It boggles the mind, doesn’t it? I would say ‘how can anyone produce so much?’ except I know exactly how, because Horowitz said he can easily write for ten hours a day without looking up from his laptop. I’m going to choose to see this as hopeful, rather than galling - I can barely manage three, but then if I only ever achieved a third of Horowitz’s output, I’d be more than satisfied.
My best literary lesson from this event, however, was Horowitz’s observations on how much he’d learned about writing script from working with brilliant actors like Lesley Manville, whose idiosyncratic rhythms and delivery work their way into your brain and help you to write more original dialogue afterward. On a couple of occasions lately when I’ve been stuck on a film or theatre project, I’ve found it really helpful to ‘cast’ the show in my head, and then use the actors’ voices to help ensure I’m writing convincing speech. It’s a kind of cheat code - you’re getting other (imaginary) people to do the work for you. It can be a really good way to shake things up if you’ve got stuck with all your characters sounding the same, or if you’re trying to write a voice you don’t hear in your everyday life.
And the headline of this post, by the way - about schools without libraries being like hospitals without medicine - also came from Horowitz, who was extremely passionate about encouraging children to read; a timely cause. This World Book Day, less than half of children surveyed said they read for pleasure; an all-time-low since 2005. Why don’t they? Well, partly because adults don’t either. 56% of children said their parents’ major hobby was scrolling on their phone. If we want kids to read, we do have to model the behaviour ourselves.
Ed Conway wants us to understand the hidden life of everyday materials
Remember when you were a kid, and you were desperate to know how stuff got made? I still witness this curiosity at the school author events I organise - children always start by asking how the books get printed, rather than what inspired them. As adults, though, we often take our material world for granted, shrugging our shoulders at the magic of a smart phone or smooth tarmac road. This indifference (and ignorance) is what
sets out to change in his enthralling book Material World: A Substantial Story of Our Past and Future. Conway takes six substances which have shaped civilisation - sand, salt, iron, copper, oil and lithium - and travels the globe to discover and illuminate their secret life: where they are mined, how they are processed, and how alchemised into the astonishingly complex products that end up in our hands. In this way, his book becomes a work of intricate geopolitics; a story of our global civilisation’s complex past and possible future, as nations and mining companies continue to fight for control of these astonishingly powerful materials.At his CLF event, Conway persuasively argued that if we better understand ‘the secret life of things’ - the astonishing labour, complexity and environmental toll of material processes - we may learn greater respect for the things themselves, and for the natural world; thereby reducing our conspicuous consumption. But this optimism was bridled by a story Conway told us about the invention of LED light bulbs, for which Shuji Nakamura won the Nobel Prize in 2016. Apparently, it was widely thought that LED bulbs - with their dramatically reduced energy usage - would be the solution to climate change. But it was not to be: because instead of switching our old, energy-guzzling bulbs for new, efficient ones, we just decided to light more stuff than before - think Times Square, Piccadilly Circus - leaving our overall global energy consumption about the same. So, are humans capable of anything except rapacious greed and maximisation? Whether you’re sceptical or hopeful, you will still want to read Conway’s book. I loved it, and I don’t read much non-fiction - it’s vivid and exciting, combining the rich imagery of a travel memoir with thoughtful, far-reaching geopolitical insights. And, as a huge fan of salt in its condiment form, I loved learning about how critical the substance has been to civilisation’s development - for example, Britain’s famously straight Roman roads are actually built on ‘ancient salt routes’ that had been used by Celtic salt merchants for centuries prior. If you want to know more, buy the book - or subscribe to Ed’s Substack for more fascinating deep dives into our material world.
David Larbi wants us to find joy in simple pleasures
was at the Festival to talk about his sunshiney debut, Frequently Happy: 52 Mindful Moments to Bring Hope and Joy. It’s a beautiful book that combines the author’s own poetry with journalling prompts that offer the reader space to reflect - or create - themselves. I love this concept; the way it foregrounds the dynamic, productive relationship between reader and writer. And it’s easy to see how Larbi has built such a large following for himself and his work online: he is one of those special people who radiate authenticity, generosity, and warmth. At CLF, Larbi was interviewed by fellow literary influencer and writer Ruby Granger, who described Larbi as ‘light embodied’ - I thought that was exactly right. And, as a huge stan of extremely earnest chat, I watched Granger and Larbi’s entire conversation with the biggest grin on my face: it felt like eavesdropping on a hyper eloquent heart-to-heart at a sleepover.
If there was one lesson to take away from Larbi’s work, it would be to seek the joy in small moments - in the growth of a ‘mini chilli pepper’, or in the delight of a ‘frosty treat’ at the cinema. As someone who tends to worry about the big picture a lot of the time, I find this reframe really useful: a lot of small moments add up to a happy life. And I challenge you to watch Larbi read even one of his poems out loud without smiling.
(Plus, the extremely talented Ruby Granger also has a book in the offing, which sounded like a bewitching work of dark academia - follow her here for updates!)
Joyce Longdon wants us to rediscover our connection to the living world
At her CLF event, Longdon shared a story of climate activism from the late 1970s, which was sparked by the government of North Carolina’s decision to dump gallons of toxic waste into landfill in Warren County; a predominantly black and socially deprived area. Deeply concerned for the safety of their environment, the local community came together in a grassroots movement to oppose the creation of this chemical site. For weeks, residents marched in protest, and hundreds of citizens were arrested. While the toxic waste - horrifically - remained in landfill despite this resistance, the determination of Warren County’s residents had a lasting impact on the way we understand and undertake climate action; inspiring future grassroots organisations and helping to launch a national Environmental Justice movement.
The scale of the climate crisis is daunting. An understandable response to this magnitude is despair. But Longdon’s book reminds us of the joy that can be found in activism - she reframes climate action as a shared goal, rather than an individual burden. Longdon highlights, for example, the group meals taken in church together during the Warren County protests, and the reinforced sense of community which shared purpose provides. Her lyrical, transdisciplinary book walks a delicate line between these antithetical states of hope and horror, offering a truly innovative new perspective on the climate action movement - a perspective which at the same time feels grounded in ancient truth. Her definition of the book’s title phrase is deft in its simplicity:
A natural connection is simply the recognition of environmental action as our steadfast commitment to proudly take our place as beings within, not above or outside of, the planet’s astoundingly diverse ecosystem.
You can subscribe to Longdon’s Substack for more stories of climate action, and you can buy her book from Penguin here.
Lanisha Butterfield wants to bring nature’s wonder into urban environments
I was already very familiar with Lanisha Butterfield’s magical picture book Flower Block, because I work in a children’s bookshop where it is much beloved. However, it was lovely to meet the author of this beguiling story in person, and see her read the book to a group of mesmerised five-year-olds. Flower Block is about a little boy who manages to grow a miraculous rooftop garden from a packet of sunflower seeds - this beautiful green space brings all the residents of his apartment block together in community. It’s a sweet and magical story, and one which reminds you that you don’t need to live in the countryside to enjoy the wonder of nature - you can bring the wonder of nature to you. But, where some picture books about the environment and community feel ‘theme-y’, the enchanted elements of Flower Block always keep it feeling like an adventure. I highly recommend it for any children in your life - you can buy it here.
That’s all, folks. Next week, I’ll be back with another classic Fictional Therapy - subscribe below if you’d like to get it delivered straight to your inbox. Lots of love!
And, if you’d like to submit a problem to Fictional Therapy, you can do so anonymously here (I don’t even see your email address).
Belated thanks for this Emma! And lovely to meet you in Cambridge
Thank you so much for your lovely words and review! I am so glad Frequently Happy made you feel everything I could hope, and thank you for attending my first ever festival appearance!