In the last couple of months I made - lemme see, carry the four, multiply by six and divide by the Leafs' chances of winning the Stanley Cup before I die and that's, er, not very much. So the International Festival of Authors breaking loose in Hogtown tomorrow Oct. 21 is off the menu for me again. Tickets are $18 each. And as much as I like books and reading when I have money I prefer to spend it on rent, food and utilities. I know: how silly of me.
I blogged about the cost of IFOA tickets in 2009 and was contacted by a PR type at Harbourfront, where the festival takes place. She told me writers could buy tickets cheap (they ought to be free) so I should get in touch for 2010. I did. I emailed said PR type but she had moved along. I emailed someone else. No reply. I called. No reply. I suppose I could have gone down to Harbourfront in person, but that's six dollars round trip and given my luck with email and the telephone I decided against it.
I especially wanted to hear Esi Edugyan and perhaps ask her the what and how of her research for her much praised novel Half Blood Blues since it is based on events in WWII. I also wanted to hear Ian Rankin, he of Rebus fame. I thought someone might ask him if he'd consider revisiting the thriller section - he once wrote one - if his publisher would let him. But it's not to be. And that's a real shame. I'm starting to fret that the IFOA is becoming like the COC and the legit theatres around town - likely to remain out of the reach of those of modest means. That's not healthy for us or them. Cultural institutions are the property of everyone, both through the tax system and on the broader societal plane and must stay that way.
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