Whip It Out. Go On. It’s Sydney Writers’ Festival!
Books are dead. As dead as Walkmans. As dead as the 8-track mixtape. As dead as LPs. Stop us when ready.
It’s that time of year or, perhaps, that time of humanity, wherein we find the need to reorient ourselves towards the past and embrace that which seems so contemporarily shit-upon: the written word. Though the original place in Walsh Bay is no longer the home for this willy-waggling of wordsmiths (it is undergoing refurbishment), the Sydney Writers’ Festival remains as technically alive as ever, bringing together a collection of participants the wide world over “from local and international contemporary novelists, screenwriters, musicians and writers of cutting-edge nonfiction, to some of the world’s leading public intellectuals, scientists and journalists“.
30th of April.