It’s been a while since I last went to the summer book fair in Bucharest. It took place during the same week as TIFF (Transilvania International Film Festival) and I was always away in Cluj at this time. This year the two events took place in different weeks and so I went to Romexpo on Sunday, during the last fair day, June 13, on a terrible heat. I associated BookFest in my memories with crowds of people cramming in front of the bookstalls. People were like sardines in a tin can, and it took you a lot to go from one part of the hangar to the other; looking at books and buying them seemed quite complicated. But this time it wasn't quite so, and I needed to update the old scenario…
I went up around lunch time, as a guest speaker in the last debate under the title Who do we write for/ who is reading us?, within the events organised by Spain, the guest country of this edition. Romanian and Spanish writers together. There was some audience as well and the air conditioned helped us relax. The coffee at the Austrian stall contributed to that a great deal too. Next to Cezar Paul-Badescu, the participating Spanish writers were Milagros Frias, Ray Loriga and Rosa Montero. I previously met Ray Loriga last year, when he was invited by the Cervantes Institute, I read his Heroes (translated by Curtea Veche), but I didn’t know much about the two lady writers. The conversation was extremely pleasant and warm, and as soon as it was over I went to the Rao Publishing stall to get one of Rosa Montero’s books. I chose The Cannibal’s Daughter to begin with… This is how I learnt that this nice lady, shy when she has to address an audience, has an impressive carrier as an editorialist for El Pais. Ileana, my Romanian-Italian-Spanish friend, whispers to me that her father-in-law is getting the paper only to read Rosa Montero…
These public appearances, which for some writers may equal to sleepless nights or a calming pill, as it does to Rosa, reach their purpose. Readers are easier tamed when they like the writer and this is exactly what I did after the meeting with the Spanish writers.
I went for a stroll “out of Spain”, as I heard a lady saying over the phone to someone who asked her where exactly in the book fair she was. The crisis and the scorcher had many stay at home. And there was enough space to move, to breath, to look at books. I got several old titles published by Paralela 45 that I previously missed. There were plenty of tables displaying volumes for only 5 lei, which was not so common in the past.
The book launches at the book fair are somewhat packed and awkward. Neagu Djuvara gathered an impressive queue for autographs. I caught a half peep of him, calm and serene.
I met some friends that there’s no other place I can encounter, and after “window shopping” in front of the book stalls of all publishing houses, I went out of the pavilion on a side door. The book fair is also the place to discover tiny publishing houses that no one would even imagine exist. They have peculiar names and publish all sorts of things. From singing icons, orthodox calendars to other oddities, you can find anything here.
I took my last stop at this year’s BookFest at the Electrecord stall. Margareta Pâslaru was giving autographs, while the speakers played my childhood hit songs. Obsolete and charming. She was smiling to everyone and was signing CDs. At one time a slow song followed in the speakers. She asked the ones at the stall to play the next track: “young generation likes better rhythmic songs”, she added. With her word in my mind, I braced myself and went into the scorcher outside.
