Michael Pedersen on a 'dramatic' semester as Edinburgh University’s writer in residence

Bernadine Evaristo

As 2024 draws to a gripping close, I reflect back on the first term of my second (and final) year as Writer in Residence at Edinburgh University. Suffice to say, it’s been both triumphant and dramatic in equal measure.

I kicked off the term in-conversation with the heftily heralded author Bernardine Evaristo. We nattered about her glorious novel, Girl, Woman, Other, that won the world’s most acclaimed fiction prize, The Booker, back in 2019. She then unfurled upon us her tips for continued creativity and writerly stamina – the mettle implicit in not giving up in the face of many rejections (deftly captured in her memoir: Manifesto). Our focus finally shifted to the series adaption of Bernardine’s 2013 novel Mr Loverman that was about to premiere (and now has) on BBC1. I’ve since watched it (binged with brio) and it’s a total thrill - journey through it on the iPlayer this holiday season.

Next up was the most dramatic show I’ve ever unsheathed at Edinburgh University – it coincided with the closing of the UNESCO Cities of Literature World Conference, so we had delegates from over 30 cities around the world joining us. Them and a good few hundred audience members.

My illustrious guests included Hollie McNish, who this year lassoed her second Sunday Times Bestseller with the fantabulous Lobster. Alongside her, the sublime Afghan poet Sadaf Zahedi, flown over from Germany for the occasion (where she now lives, writing about the atrocities in Afghanistan from a safer distance). And on the musical front was the majestic Conor O’Brien of Irish band Villagers – a two times Mercury Prize shortlisted and Ivor Novello winning outfit. For Conor this was an Edinburgh launch for his book of lyrics and art with Faber Music (Passing a Message). Having recently been inaugurated as Edinburgh’s new Makar, this was also my first public outing in the role. A superlative specialness thronged around the occasion.

Hollie McNish | John Devlin

The drama arrived (befuddlingly) in the form of a distressed, and thus belligerent, magpie mysteriously occupying the rafters of Gordon Aikman Theatre. Despite our collective attempts to marshal / implore / bread-bribe the bird out of the space, it refused to leave. As Conor sweetly soundchecked, the bird increased its cavalcade of swooping and crapping letting us know it wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry – near daring us to bring in the punters and see what they got. The RSPCB couldn’t come out that evening and the most eager members of the audience had already started to arrive.

A super weird show cancellation beckoned – an alfresco unplugged event was not off the cards, but it being a dreich October night made that supremely unappealing.

Joyously, in a shrewd and show-saving move (an act of derring-do), UoE’s Lynn Tonner sourced a nearby lecture theatre still open for business, and so we packed up shop and dashed across Bristo Square carrying microphones, books and boxes galore.

The show went off with bravura, the audience mucking in and all the more enthralled for the histrionics. Each of the guests on my artsy chatshow (yes, watch out Graham Norton) delivered individually stirring and lushly congruent performances, and the cauliflower wings at Paradis Palms afterwards tasted all the more scrumptious for having clawed back the bash from the ashes.

Lou Sanders

Come November, I hosted one the UK’s kookiest and most original stand-up comics, Lou Sanders. Although touching upon her numerous TV appearances (Live at the Apollo, QI, Taskmaster, even Dancing on Ice), the focus was instead on her thrilling and vital memoir, What’s That Lady Doing?

Her sword-sharp wit oozed out and shone through as assorted belly laughs rippled through the Medical School’s (somewhat gothic) Anatomy Lecture Theatre, these sounds accompanied by real moments of rumination and realisation, given the often heart-throbbing content of the book.

I’ve plenty of tricks up my sleeve for the new year. That said, by the time I write my closing report card, a new Writer in Residence will be chomping at my heels, and I’ll be about to quest off on a muckle novel tour – still wearing my fresh-ish Edinburgh Makar stripes. All change, all glimmer & gusto, all eyes on 2025 in terms of searching for our various ports in the storm.