February Book Slam

I went to Book Slam last week. For those of you who don't know it Book Slam is 'London's Best Literary Nightclub' according to the blurb. Its moved to the Tabernacle in Notting Hill and whilst I'm still debating if I prefer the cleaner, more theatrical and grand looking venue to its dark, dirty predecessor there's no doubt that Book Slam still rocks.

Thursday saw readings from poet Robin Robertson and author Joshua Ferris. Music came from the talented Tawiah.

Robin Robertson's Scottish drawl and dry wit had me captivated. He started with "Most of my poems are about drink, sex and death. It's vital they're kept in that order." Beat. "For legal reasons." Robin lived up to his word with a poem about an artichoke which was a barely disguised euphemism for, well a "stub root" as he affectionately called it.

Patrick Neate, the brainchild behind the night and occasional, host took to the stage in his usual non-style. Clutching at a can of beer he barely concealed his discomfort at having to stand in the spotlight. This familiar style is endearing (he'd probably hate that) and was particularly so when he mentioned that he was doing a book signing. He cringed and muttered and finished by saying "I hate myself a little now." Still I don't think anyone else felt the same way. I for one miss him when he gets a professional to take to the stage.

Anyway after Robin came Joshua Ferris reading from his new novel, The Unnamed, a novel about a man, Tim Farnsworth, with a psychological disorder that causes him to walk. This compulsion to walk can strike at any time and he has no power to stop it. Joshua read from the start of the novel in which Tim has been to see another doctor who has suggested a new cure.
Certainly the premise was interesting and I came away wondering whether Tim was ever going to be cured of his malady however I'm not sure I'm going to buy it... I'll keep you posted.