It might not have been the case, but with a performance from Dries Roelvink who sang “A little love” by Andre Hazes, we got a lot closer. The entry of influencers Bas Smit and Nicolette Van Damme – who wrote a book about how beautiful Holland is – also seemed to detract from the “elitist” and mystical aura always revolving around this writing festival.
In any case, it was a striking contrast to the elegant and brave reception of Boekenweek author Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer with his mother (his beloved Stella stayed at home in Genoa), essayist Marek Lucas Reinfeldt (dual names were a feature this year), poet Bart Moyart and Secretary of State for Culture and Information Junay. Oslo. At the entrance to the disco, theater maker Nina de la Parra greeted everyone, compiling a podcast on the spot asking everyone about his “first love,” the theme of this book week.
Hannah Bervots, Raoul de Jong, Vemke van der Laan, Splinter Chabot, Briggy Hofstede, among others, have lent themselves to the fire of questions. But writer Jamal Warishi, who recently published the novel, autumn thread On the horrors of wake culture, he commented via social media: “The theme of Book Week is always childish and emotional, always vulgar, the sworn enemy of literature.” So he liked to keep his private life private.
Another Boekenbal dated March 6, 2020, exactly a week before Corona paralyzed the country. It remains to be seen if it will be another widespread event this year. Guests were given a time lock to enter in advance, but there was no longer any procedure inside. There was a nice hug.
Peter Omzigt shook hands again forcefully. It was his first book ball. He said his children made fun of him for saying, “Dad went to the disco.” The politician admitted that he reads several pages every day, but always read parliamentary reports and never read novels. His D66 teammates Sigrid Kaag and Robbert Dijkgraaf from The Hague also toured the dance floor.
There was also the British writing duo Nessie Gerrard and Sean French, who write thrillers like Nicci French. “No, we’re not each other’s first love. We were already in our thirties when we fell in love. But it’s about being each other’s last love, right?”
Nikki Gerrard had borrowed a pink suit from her daughter specifically for the occasion, which looked great on her. However, the duo could not stay long. After a celebratory red carpet moment, the couple were once again taken from the side to the studio where Jinek’s talk show is being taped. “We’re there first. Maybe if we’re not too tired after the TV interview, we’ll throw ourselves at the party later.”
Bart Chabot said with a smile that he had recently won another award, having previously won the Jip Golsteijn award. “Now I have also been awarded by the Sociëteit de Witte in The Hague.” Meanwhile, several colleagues entered the room, from Connie Balmain and Nielki Norderfleet to Twain Heigmans, Yvonne Cronenberg and Robert Foggs. “There are a lot of relatives in the literary world,” says Chabot, who prefers to be in the world of rock and roll.
In fact, this Boekenweek was supposed to take place again in March, but the regulator CPNB chose a one-month delay to ensure that Corona measures were no longer required. Stadsschouwburg – nowadays called the International Theater Amsterdam or ITA – could not adapt their programming to this: Hans Kesting was already on stage with Judas. But the lack of an in-house program was actually a relief to the guests, who came to catch up, drink and dance. CPNB Director Evelyn Indekirk realized just that, as was evident from her opening speech, after Birgit Lewis and Water Hamel developed a special version of the pastoral interpret.
“For two years, we’ve been dreaming of new times, of getting back to the old normal,” Andekirk said full of emotion. These new times have come, but they are not normal: certainly not in Ukraine. Love is the ultimate solution to war and hate. Love is our sanctuary, and night is love. Kind words, which are reinforced by the announcement of a CPNB donation of €5 for the Giro 555 per Boekenbalgast. A definitive excuse to ditch the dance floor.
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