Notably, both Lieu and Harman refer to Volume as a “writers festival” rather than a book festival or an authors festival. Lieu explains, “I really hope that by having all those local literary organizations [involved], people can discover that their stories also matter, and that they can learn the craft themselves.” The message for attendees, she says, should be that “we can all be writers because we all have stories. There is a place for you, too.”
In the nearly two decades since Northwest Bookfest rolled over and died, an uncountable number of individuals and organizations have tried and failed to revive the concept of a citywide book festival. (Full disclosure: As books editor at The Stranger and as a co-founder of The Seattle Review of Books, I’ve sat in on eight to 10 different meetings over the years to discuss creating a new Seattle book festival. Only a handful made it to a second meeting, and zero progressed further.)
The problem always came down to abundance. In a book-loving city like Seattle, in which so many bookstores and literary organizations offered full calendars of literary events, it used to be that on any given spring or fall evening you could find three to seven literary events around town to meet any bookish taste. For much of the year, Seattle essentially hosted a literary festival five nights a week.
But with the pandemic and its lockdowns, Seattle’s never-ending literary party came to an abrupt halt. And as big corporate publishers swallow each other whole and engage in ferocious bouts of budget-cutting, it’s possible that the grand nationwide reading-tour tradition could become a quaint relic of pre-pandemic days.
We might just need a big, splashy book festival to ensure that Seattle’s literary scene continues to enjoy national prominence.
The idea behind Volume’s name is that with each annual edition the festival can return with a new theme. To build some institutional momentum, Harman convinced some of this year’s biggest donors to pledge funding for next year’s Volume 2. (He and organizational partners have already scheduled a postmortem to analyze this year’s festival and help improve next fall’s outing.) He hopes that with a year to prepare, the next Volume can be a truly citywide affair, with bookstores and organizations hosting their own events as part of the celebration and Town Hall at the center of the festival’s many spokes.
As Harman finishes his tenure at Town Hall (this past June he announced he’ll step down in December), he hopes that this writer’s festival will serve as part of his legacy. But for that dream to come true, readers have to show up this weekend and donors have to be willing to bankroll future expanded outings. “We really do have to see how it plays out, and to see if it’s something that people feel the need and the will to sustain,” he says.
“I hope that it will be a packed house this year so that our donors are excited and that this can continue,” Lieu says. “It really is an experiment to see if we can do this, and so the first year really matters.”
This is a very nerdy city,” Lieu adds. “I think it’s time that we came together and had our own ComicCon, or PAX West, or Bumbershoot — but for book nerds.”
