Losing enthusiasm for the Ilkley Literature Festival
Wistful longing for Fringes past
The Ilkley Literature Festival is dear to my heart. Before I moved to the town 15 years ago, I remember printing out and posting my entry to their annual short story competition along with the fee cheque, though I never got anywhere with it. Imagine my excitement when we rented a flat within walking distance of all the festival venues, about a month before that year’s festival began.
I can’t remember who was on in 2009; I only have copies of the four programmes that list my fringe events (2014, 2015, 2018, 2019 pictured above with this year’s programme). In any case we won’t have been able to afford more than one or two tickets. Back then it didn’t matter though, because there was a festival fringe.
The Ilkley Playhouse — home to the local am dram chaps, purveyors of surprisingly good theatre productions — has a main theatre and a studio theatre, both of which are usually in service for the festival, though the big headliners use the King’s Hall which is altogether more swish. Up until 2018 the general pattern I remember was that most evenings across the fortnight there would be one or more fringe events at the Playhouse, usually after the last main event ended. There were some events during the day on the three weekends too. They were free of charge, hit and miss, and a great draw.
Local groups like Ilkley Writers (including me, Rosalind York, Andrea Hardaker, Mary Colson) and the Wharfedale Poets (Mandy Sutter, Colin Speakman, Yvette Huddleston et al) would read their latest work; seeing Ilkley Writers listed in the programme under Will Self or opposite Melvyn Bragg was such a thrill. There were emerging or under the radar writers, comedians and musicians from further afield; Henry Raby remains one of my other half’s favourite memories of the festival, and I particularly enjoyed talks by several local historians. Some people, like English-Tamil poet Shash Trevett, made the leap from fringe to main programme as the years went by.
Unless it was absolutely belting down we would turn up at the Playhouse and choose an event, even if there wasn’t anyone we particularly wanted to see. Sometimes I would go to one in the main theatre and my other half would go to the studio theatre, or vice versa. There was a buzz about the place as everyone milled around after the paid events, waited for books to be signed, or grabbed a drink. You might catch a glimpse of a big name author, you would probably (this being a small town) bump into a friend or acquaintance and have a chat.
In 2019 the fringe was packed into one weekend in its own cluster of venues and it wasn’t the same at all. Ilkley Writers were hosting free writing workshops that year, and for one of the sessions not a single person turned up; the area outside was deserted. No bustle, no buzz.
Post-pandemic I’ve felt less engaged with the festival. It took me a while to be happy about sitting in a room with a hundred strangers so I was late to return. I still flick through my programme in August with great anticipation but I’ve been to only one or two events the last couple of years. Rather than feeling like I was taking part in something bigger — The Festival — each has felt much more like an isolated trip to the theatre.
I wondered if part of the problem was that although the festival guests have usually got a book out, they are increasingly names from outside literature. Looking at that list of 10 headliners on the front of the 2024 programme, there are 3 ex-MPs (Sir Graham Brady, Gyles Brandreth, Caroline Lucas; former PM Theresa May has been added to the line-up since the programme was printed), 2 judges from reality TV shows (Prue Leith, Patrick Grant), an actor/comedian (Julian Clary) and a scientist/TV presenter (Maggie Aderin-Pocock). Only Kate Atkinson1, Jodi Picoult and former poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy are primarily known for their writing.
Then I looked at the other programmes in my possession and realised ‘twas ever thus. Or at least for the last 10 years. Caroline Lucas, Julian Clary, Maggie Aderin-Pocock, Prue Leith are all on one of those other 4 programme covers2 alongside other politicians (Diane Abbott, Ken Livingstone, Vince Cable) and stars of TV, radio or film (Susan Calman, Brian Blessed, Clare Balding). Several other names appear more than once (Simon Armitage, Michael Rosen, Dan Snow). So then I wondered if it was repetition; I’d seen everyone I wanted to see in the early days and they were back again so I wasn’t as engaged.
But that’s not it at all. Engaging speakers you’ve enjoyed before will probably be worth seeing again. There is always a new book to get signed (or ticket stub, on occasions when I’ve read the book out of the library).
It’s the fringe that I’m missing, specifically that fortnight-long variety with evening and weekend slots. It provided a focal point for gathering and talking, and a way of feeling involved in the festival for a prolonged period when you may only have tickets for a couple of events. It got us out in town on those October evenings, among the crowds of locals and visitors that made the place feel alive.
As a local writer it also made it possible to be involved in the festival; it felt like ‘our’ festival because this year or last year or hopefully next year we were in the programme, on the stage (or in the bandstand as I was in 2018 with Roz, Emily, Karen and Keely) reading to half a dozen people or a hundred and fifty. It provided a showcase and a network, a foot in the door and a line on the CV. It feels wrong to me that emerging writers should have been cut off from the festival3. Many of the local fringe veterans are to be found periodically at Keely’s Purple Room these days, so at least we haven’t lost all our opportunities, but that’s a monthly gathering with a small audience — not the same as those heady days of borrowing an audience from whatever came before.
The Ilkley Literature Festival has been going for 51 years, and it has changed and adapted over that time. I know that free events cost money to stage, even if you staff them with volunteers: all that admin, and the room hire, and undoubtedly insurance, as well as printing for flyers and programmes. I also know there’s a funding crisis in the arts in the UK, and book festivals are having a hard time of it this summer after Baillie Gifford pulled out — not that they sponsored the Ilkley festival, but their withdrawal leaves less to go around. Every festival needs to balance its books, and by definition unknown writers aren’t going to attract people. But I still wish the Ilkley Literature Festival retained its fringe.
I really wanted to see Kate Atkinson; regular readers will know how much I rate her novels. On the morning sales opened to the general public I added one of the 4 remaining tickets to my basket but by the time I’d also selected non-discounted adult with a 50p donation to the festival, someone else had been quicker with their credit card and I missed out.
Gyles Brandreth was on the bill in 2014, he just wasn’t on the front cover
It is run by a charity and receives a certain amount of public funding
I've been to Ilkley Book Festival and even done events there, including for schools which is another part of literary festivals which is so important but kind of overlooked (usually hidden away at the back of the programme). Not being truly local (Leeds!) I never twigged about the importance of the fringe in bringing a range of people in though, this was really thought-provoking.
Sounds like it was really good and you're quite right about that sense community and ownership from a fringe. They probably thought they could achieve 80% of the same box office/results etc with 20% of the work, packing it all into a weekend. That's clearly not the way to go. But you're right about 'non-authors with books out' - twas ever thus. It always feels like a new thing, but it isn't. Also worth bearing in mind that these non-authors do at least have something to write about, even if it's themselves. Sometimes writers just want to 'be writers', which is another problem. Anyway, thanks for writing this. Enjoyed.