Book People
My sister-in-law Christina and I went to the Frankfurter Buchmesse (FBM) in October. It was her first time and I was more than excited to spend the day with her.
For me, it was the third, or perhaps even the fourth time I'd visited the fair. My first visit was in 1992, when I was 18 and fresh out of high school.
That summer, I'd worked at a police station and earned some money, which I promptly spent on an entrance ticket to FBM 1992 and a flight to Frankfurt. I flew there in the morning and back again that same evening. It was my first flight without my parents, and I was accompanied by a friend I'd made at work. It was an exhilarating day, the internationality of it, and so many people. And the best of all: books everywhere! Authors I had never heard of, colourful covers vying for my attention at every corner. Too bad most of it was in German (this, at least, has not changed), but at least, for the first time, I was on familiar territory and the reader in me went mad with FOMO: I wanted to buy ALL the books I could get my hands on, spend the next months reading, and maybe start writing more myself. I remember not really taking to Frankfurt, it was a cold and dreary day, and a far cry from the lovely city I would come to love 17 years later.
I’m pretty sure I attended the fair also during my years living in the Main metropolis, maybe even twice, but interestingly enough I mostly recall going to IAA, the Frankfurt Motor Show in 2009, with some friends from the car industry. So in any case it had been a few years, and my sister-in-law’s suggestion to go together was a fantastic one. We got there early, and headed straight to the Penguin exhibition stand, where friends of mine were on stage talking about their novel, which had come out in the Heartlines imprint. Natalie Erlach has fictionalised Nicole List's story: a young Viennese woman who decides on a whim to buy a bookshop, then struggles to free herself from a toxic relationship. Along the way, she finds success and new love. It's the perfect feel-good novel for a rainy autumn afternoon. Christina and I applauded as they were being interviewed, hugged them afterwards and took the obligatory selfies. I was genuinely proud of them.
My sister-in-law and I walked around quite a bit, entering all the huge halls one by one, and then even returning to stands that had had too many people crowding around them the first time we were there. We got books signed by a former footballer who had spent most of his career at our favourite club - when he ended his active period, he started writing novels, and had just published his second one. For the occasion I had dressed in a team t-shirt, and Christina snapped pictures of the player/author and me. I was so nervous that I actually forgot to tell him my name when he signed - I was busy making selfies, my club membership card proudly displayed between us.
More than 235.000 people were milling the FBM area over the entire weekend, and Saturday has been historically the most popular day to visit the Fair. Sometimes a crowd would form around a stage, heads started turning and people craned their necks. At one point I spotted the famous winged cap of Otto Waalkes in the distance, who was preparing himself to talk about the children’s book he had written. A couple next to us were not as tall and apparently mistook the celebrity for somebody else. The man said to his female companion, “Look, there’s Klaus Wowereit, the former mayor of Berlin. Didn’t he always say something about Berlin being sexy?” Comedian… politician… I can see why he mixed up one with the other.
Around noon my Christina and I got hungry and lined up at one of the many food stands. Everywhere bookish folks were sitting and standing, eating their noodles, hot dogs, or curry wurst. A few cosplayers were lolling around, turning heads with their creative outfits. And speaking of creative: when you wanted to toss your empty paper plate into the trash you had to play a game of Tetris since the trash cans were more than overflowing with discarded cups, plates, napkins, and the like. Balancing your garbage on top of what other had already deposited became a game of its own. I suppose the organisers hadn't anticipated quite so many hungry book lovers.
One thing struck us: we saw dozens of English titles, at every stand. But invariably, the book itself was actually in German, just using an international title for no apparent reason. To cater to an international audience? I doubt it. We were disappointed to finally find the international publishers tucked away upstairs, almost hidden from view. Americans, Koreans, Chinese, Indians all thrown together in one hall. By the time we got there in the early afternoon, most were already packing up, or had left altogether. There was not even any wifi in hall 4.2, so after one round we decided to move on.
As a writer myself, one of the things I particularly enjoy about visiting FBM is the feeling of being among my people. Like-minded folk who know what it means to labour over the perfect sentence and dread the empty page. Of course, there's a considerable distance between having your novel displayed at a major publisher's stand and publishing the occasional piece on your own website. But I still feel a sense of kinship. And who knows what the future holds? If I ever publish a book and get the chance to do a reading, anywhere at all, I'd jump at it.
Perhaps that’s why I enjoy these places so much. I have always been drawn to the world of books, initially as a reader, and increasingly as someone who hopes to contribute something of hr own. A few years ago, on my first visit to Boston in almost two decades, I found myself wandering around Harvard Square. On a whim I entered the Harvard Book Store, where I had, decades earlier, spent many pleasant hours browsing, and buying, novels. I circled the shelves probably four times in total, and in the end found myself in a section that was just being cleared out by an elderly man in a brown corduroy jacket. He moved low shelves and advertising racks to the side, and lined up folding chairs that he carried in from some back room. I felt a little stupid watching him work, so I picked up a chair, unfolded it, and set it down in the row he was working on. When he returned carrying more seating, I took some out of his arms and continued moving them to their places. Apparently a reading was going to happen later that day, and the man was preparing the room for the audience. For several minutes, we worked alongside each other in complete silence. Finally, when all the chairs had been distributed, he turned to me and asked, ”Are you my author?”
No, I’m not. Not yet, anyway. But I might be one day. Returning to Harvard bookstore, and of course to Atticus in New Haven, to read from a book of my own is definitely on my bucket list. I don’t even dream of the crowds at FBM, a more intimate setting would suit me much better.
All in all, it was a good day at the Frankfurt Book Fair. A great day, actually. Christina and I had fun, but by the time we got home in the afternoon, we were knackered, almost too tired even for dinner. Will we return next year? You bet.
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