It was Friday, May 29, the first time Book Slam had ever been on a Friday.
And it was the last Book Slam at 12 Acklam Road.
The club is moving to the nearby Tabernacle.
A Friday night, a slightly different crowd, a more vibrant atmosphere.
David Simon had flown in from Baltimore with two associates to do the Hay Festival.
He’s a big, bald, Jewish fiftysomething with a snappy, staccato way of talking and when he got onstage he immediately made fun of his reputation with a liberal audience.
He said, “I flew in this morning and I bought The Guardian and there wasn’t one article about David Simon. No review, no editorial… Where’s the love?”
It was funny, the way he said it. But it doesn’t read funny. You had to be there.
I’d never seen The Wire until the previous night. I had Sky+ed the last episode(12/12) and watched it. That was a very unusual thing for me to do because I never watch a drama series on TV. I read books.
I’ve never seen one episode of West Wing or ER or The Sopranos or anything else. The kids nagged me to watch 24, so I saw a couple. I could see why they liked it, but I didn’t.
In the last three years the only drama series I’ve watched is Mad Men, which is about advertising men on Madison Avenue in the Fifties and Sixties. I watched the first episode because I used to work in advertising in London and I stayed with it. Got into the characters, the way the story jolts forward and surprises you. Jan and I have enjoyed every episode so far. Two series.
David Simon, I liked him. Really, really liked him. Respect him a lot.
But I wouldn’t read one of his books because they’re not my kind of crime novels. And I wouldn’t watch The Wire again because it’s not my kind of show.