Thirsty Lunch is an ongoing series of free literary and musical events in Edinburgh, intended to profile both new and established writers. Thirsty Lunch also likes to profile smaller Scottish publishers and seeks to transport
In August 2006, Thirsty Lunch ran for two weeks at The Jazz Bar in Edinburgh, and a whole lot of fun was had.
"The compact Jazz Bar venue makes for great atmospherics, and when reading the poet is very much in touch with the audience. I found the audiences most receptive and felt appreciated.
The fifty-minute 'windows' indicate to the man in the street, that this is something well within his attention span, and make for an ideal lunch hour distraction; not to mention the diversity that each show provides.
I feel you have hit on a winning formula here, and have put the myth to bed that poets are all tweed suits and wooly jumpers; knocked the 'stuffiness' out of poetry readings, if you like."
Douglas W. Gray
Koo Press
A Little About Thirsty Lunch 2004
William Sutton, author of The Worms of Euston Square (Mercat Press)
"Without Thirsty Lunch, I probably wouldn't have been published.
I rolled up in Edinburgh, back from Brazil, clutching a typescript. Peter kindly squeezed into the programme at the last moment, a 10 minute slot which I fear I overran in my enthusiasm. What a great spot, what an enthused audience. After so long scribbling alone in a room, it's astonishing to come out and get a reaction.
At the interval, Sam Kelly (who was helping to organise the events) came up to me. Try Scottish publishers, she said. And I'll give you a few agents' names.
After the show, my girlfriend wanted to head off sharply. Not bloody likely, I said.
I grabbed Sam again and scribbled down the names she rattled off. One of the publishers she mentioned was Mercat Press: that's a really good idea, she said. You know their McLevy books? I said I didn't. Oh, they've republished these Victorian crime stories. They might go for your book.
The agents all read what I submitted to them (unlike some). One of them agonised for months about whether to take me on.
I also tried Mercat and some other Scottish publishers. I was surprised Mercat didn't got back to me, and, on the point of giving up, tried them with a reminder. This time they replied at once: they had written back to me; it must have got lost in my stupid email's junk filter.
Four months later they offered me a contract. And there I was, at the 2006 event, with the book in my hand. Thanks very much, Thirsty Lunch"
William Sutton
http://www.william-sutton.co.uk
I thought the venue was great, the audience attentive and appreciative, the ambience warm and the sound system sound. Sean's intros were amusing and apt!
Gerard Rochford, author of The Holy Family & other Poems
"I enjoyed the reading very much. It was a nice space and the audience seemed appreciative. I think the mix of readers was just right. It's good to see alternative poetry and reading events like this springing up on the Fringe and hope you will continue with them in future years. I'd be particularly keen to see mixed prose and poetry readings: so often the two get hived off into separate compartments which seems pointless to me. They can be difficult to manage but when they work they can be among the most stimulating events of any literature festival."
David Kinloch, author of In My Father's House and Un Tour D'Ecosse
The Real Book Festival
One Man's Account of Thirsty Lunch and its Accompanying Fringe.
In the month of August, whilst the EIBF presumably celebrated its greatest ever ticket, book and muffin sales, I attended a completely different literary phenomenon which occurred in the South Side of the Capital. For two weeks a free festival named Thirsty Lunch brought together some of the best talent from the four corners of Scotland to be enjoyed absolutely gratis in the louche surroundings of The Jazz Bar in Chambers Street. Amongst the delights on offer were first readings of new plays, challenging debates, uplifting songs, inspiring poetry and humorous tales. In fact, you name it, you got it; everything one would expect from a genuine grassroots literary festival. What was notable for its absence, however, was a 'writers' retreat', a safe haven to which performers generally skulk off once their duties are over, lest any contact with the general public taint their muse.
The absence of such an elitist convention led to the unwitting establishment of Thirsty Fringe, whereby performers and audience could mingle freely and chew the fat. Every day, after the Lunch had ended, a whole load of us would troop upstairs to commandeer seats outside Biblos cafe on the corner of Chambers Street and the South Bridge, a location that will be known as a Scottish scribes' equivalent of the Haight/Ashbury in years to come. The historical and literary implications of this venue were not lost upon us. Opposite a side elevation of Adam's Old College (although Gun pedant Michael Conway insisted upon informing us that most of the building was in fact completed by Playfair), the former bookseller James Thin's and on a street named after the illustrious Chambers brothers, even the cafe had a literary allusion. Whilst the patrons of Charlotte Square politely sipped their lattes and nibbled their pastries, feeling all the while ever so cultured, we caroused, roistered and above all tried to make ourselves heard over the seemingly never ending procession of tour buses, damn them.
To list all of the participants of Thirsty Fringe would be impossible (I think Angus Calder, Doctor Cathy and myself were usually the last to leave, so my powers of recall are not what they could be) but it didn't matter who you were, all were welcome and those who attended will, I'm sure, treasure the memories. Most of the Thirsty Lunch performers stopped for at least one drink and many stayed for more than that. In this way I found myself drinking in such illustrious company as Alasdair Gray, Jim Kelman (tough luck Ms Lockerbie, I don't think they graced your garden with their august presence) and a wealth of literati representing all Scotia. We made that corner our own for the whole fortnight. Amidst the literary and political debates there was much convivialia and many new friendships were established. We even occasionally provided our own form of street theatre for, as the liquor flowed, we were often moved to sing Jacobite songs (on one instance with a violin accompaniment) to applause from bemused tourists. Maybe we should have passed the hat around, in retrospect.
Regulars such as myself soon settled into a comfortable routine. We came to know all the freaks and fools that paraded by on a daily basis and it became nearly impossible to distinguish between the local jakies and the desperate touts, for their behaviour was similarly bizarre. Nonetheless, we felt at home in this environment, for our endeavours seemed to blend in agreeably to this melting pot of street-level insanity. As a result, we were rewarded with our very own musical entertainment courtesy of Majid Bouazza, who was promoting the show 'Clan of Divorcees' using a mobile sound system and liked to park it beside our tables every day at a certain time. Thank you Majid and I hope the show met with much success!
As the days passed I became accustomed to meeting fresh faces, exchanging ideas and contact details, and weathering fearsome hangovers. On many occasions I idly pondered what the so-called Book Festival in Charlotte Square actually represented to the likes of us. A corrupt, corpulent corporate book fair, an abomination far removed from the genuine concept of festivity was my conclusion, an opinion generally shared by many of my new colleagues. With our ceilidh mentality, I genuinely believe that we, in our humble way, were the true inheritors of the spirit of Milne's, the Abbotsford and Sandy's, albeit minus the exclusively masculine angle. This spirit cannot die as many seeds were sown over those two glorious weeks and the harvest will be bountiful when it happens, y'all wait and see.
Eventually, I came to feel as if I had been born on that corner and I was sorely aggrieved when the festivities ended as all good things must. Nevertheless, I left Thirsty Lunch and its accompanying Fringe positively elated and inspired as never before for I know Scotia's grassroots literary culture is alive and well. We are not merely surviving, we are positively thriving, with or without the help of those empowered!
I must end this reverie with a statement I heard, and used, many times outside Biblos cafe during that sacred fortnight:
This is the real Book Festival!
By Craig Gibson
(Editor, One O'Clock Gun)
Even though it was only 15 minutes I enjoyed myself. The only thing I would say that might make it a better gig is that the performing space could be a bit bigger. It was rather cramped in front of that stage and not very well lit.
As far as I know Thirsty Lunch is a unique happening in Edinburgh and deserves a better venue, it might be worth while talking to the Pleasance, or one of the other big venues, or even trying to get a tent up at the book festival. I think you need to up the profile. Thirsty Lunch attracted some good writers and poets and would be well able to compete with the best of them.
John Hegley was saying to me that what is needed is a more laid back and unstuffy approach to poetry readings especially at the Edin Fest and Thirsty Lunch would fit that bill and I think if you were to get a more high profile setting it would attract even more well known writers and poets. But maybe that's not what you want I don't know, but I think if you're going to go for it then...fucking go for it like! (last bit to be read aloud in Cork accent)
Owen O'Neill
Thirsty Lunch is a misnomer - we were forced to drink a bottle of wine.
Joanna Turner
