Wednesday Feb. 12, 25
Damn right, I’m tired! I was up at 7, walked half an hour to the hotel for 8.45, got back to Linda’s at 8.45 p.m. after twelve hours of socializing, listening, writer talk, and schmoozing. Wonderful, I’m buzzing still, but exhausted.
Two things bothered me; I’ll get them off my chest before I go on about the great stuff. At the plenary, an American who publishes a newspaper in English about Mexican and world affairs gave a talk. He told us about Claudia Sheinbaum, whom he admires greatly. And he told us one of her problems is that she is being bullied by Trump and betrayed by Canada. He said Canada had suggested shutting Mexico out of the free trade deal, that it should just be Canada and the U.S. He had a picture of Trudeau up as he reported that. I was furious and went up to complain to him after, that perhaps one of our right-wing premiers had said such a thing, but it was not government policy, that Canada and Mexico are very much partners in the same boat. He seemed to think the premier of Ontario and the prime minister of Canada are more or less the same person. I also tackled him about Sheinbaum, because although westerners adore her, many Mexicans feel she’s a puppet of Obrador the last guy, that both are rightwing populists disguised as leftists. He disagreed with that.
Then I went to the bookstore to check on my books – politely asked them to move Midlife Solo, which was in an obscure corner, to the memoir section where it belongs, so they managed to squeeze it onto the bottom row. True to Life was also in a hidden corner. C’est la vie.
A few of the many highlights: a lunch organized for faculty at a stunning hacienda; I thought it was a hotel but it’s a vast private house with eleven bedrooms owned by an American family. It’s filled with Mexican antiques, flowers, luxuries, and is rented or loaned out as needed. We had a margarita as we stood and admired and then a sit down lunch. I was seated with other Canadians and made friends with a writer from California who also teaches memoir writing. At the bookstore I’d noticed another writing how-to book flying off the shelves; it turned out to be by my new friend, Jennifer Selig.
We were bussed back to the hotel and straight to the agent panel, where three agents, including Sam Hiyate from Toronto, talked about the current state of the business; very interesting and, yes, depressing. During the break, Jennifer and I found a shady corner outside and compared notes and valuable insights about teaching memoir. Then a reception outside near the pool for faculty and donors, with free drinks, food, and the ubiquitous mariachi band over which writers shouted to be heard. Then the keynote: John Irving. The ballroom was packed with fans; he read two long excerpts from his new novel Queen Esther, which explores anti-Semitism many decades ago. During the questions, he was asked why he has always written with such sympathy about LGBTQ issues. He replied that his younger twin siblings, a boy and a girl, grew up gay and lesbian in a small town, and he was often the one defending them.
But by then I’d been sitting for almost the entire day and was bushed. Before the hundreds poured out of the ballroom, I fled to a cab. Of course, after driving through the twisted crowded streets in the dark, we couldn’t find Linda’s place, and when I finally recognized the huge iron gates, I could not find her condo. It’s a gated community where all the buildings look the same. I wandered and finally had to get the gatekeeper to lead me there.
Tomorrow, thank god, I have the morning off. There’s a Canada lunch organized by Merilyn, then fabulous Canadian writer John Vaillant, and then Canada Reads, at which yours truly and five other Canadian faculty will read, then the next keynote, food memoir writer Ruth Reichl. It’s all happening, baby!
Pictures tomorrow. I’m going to sleep now.
