Since March 2020, Pakistan has witnessed a string of lockdowns and other containment measures that have made it difficult to host large social gatherings. At a time when the prospect for human interaction seems bleak and threatening, the digital sphere has emerged as a haven of sorts for businesses, schools and other entities in need of social interaction.

Literary festivals, which have gained currency in Pakistan over the last decade, have also found a home in our digital-centric world. The decision to take literary festivals online has spawned a mix of excitement and cynicism. While some regular participants find the new trend an unsettling break with the past; others have accepted it with a pragmatic zeal.

Nadya AR, a novelist who has participated in panel discussions at several literary festivals, believes that lit-fests in the digital realm cannot match the energy that pervades an on-ground literary extravaganza.

“Physical venues permit interaction at a level that is much more meaningful,” she says. She isn’t averse to the possibility of a hybrid arrangement whereby festivals can be held in both physical and digital spaces, but the novelist would like to see more festivals at physical venues. “We can enforce strict social distancing at these venues and encourage people to bring vaccination cards,” she says.

Mehvash Amin, poet and editor-in-chief of the Aleph Review, has been a speaker and participant at the Karachi and Islamabad Literature Festivals as well the Lahore Literary Festival and has seen them emerge as a “full-fledged feature” of the country’s social life.

“The buzz that one felt at [physical] venues was electric and undeniable,” she says. “Then Covid happened and like board meetings and school, the literary festivals became virtual events. The adrenaline rush that one felt at the approach of these festivals – the crowds and the laughter rippling through the audience at a repartee – took a beating.”

Amin feels that the absence of the social element drove down attendance at digital festivals. She says: “The adrenaline junkies, the young men out scouting the girls and the selfie crowd perhaps stopped bothering to hit the button to step into an hour of serious talk. With the audience gone, the compères and guests also had less of an opportunity to connect to the audience, to gauge whether they were on point or extrapolating their point a tad too long.”

Nevertheless, digital literary festivals have provided Amin the space “to be alone and listen, really listen, to [the] author[s]” she admires. She also argues that the digitisation of festivals has perhaps eliminated the risk of stage fright among panellists.

Writer and literary critic Muneeza Shamsie, who figures prominently at panels held at various literary festivals, has enjoyed being part of online sessions.

“[They] have given me access to events in cities and countries that I could have never attended,” she says. “[Online sessions] also made it possible for speakers in distant places to take part in festivals that they might not have been able to attend otherwise.”

Shamsie believes that literary festivals held at physical venues generate literary discourses by creating an interaction between speakers and audiences, as well as among delegates from different places specialising in different areas. She is, however, open to the idea of festival organisers adopting a hybrid arrangement.

“Live festivals with an element of livestreaming to audiences beyond the venue is certainly a good idea,” she says. “I’m not sure how it would work to have live events with speakers being beamed in through the internet. Perhaps lit-fests could expand and have a major live festival, and then continue with different sessions online at regular intervals throughout the year (which would be a lot of work).”

Afshan Shafi, a poet and an editor, thinks the immediacy of hosting a literary festival at a physical venue improves intellectual exchanges.

“Much more enthusiasm from those interested in culture is generated by literary festivals at physical venues,” she says. “A hybrid model is the way of the future, however, and digital festivals have contributed much to generating growth, debate and knowledge in the past few years.”

The planners

Over the last two years, the organisers of literary festivals have tried to put on a great show online despite the occasional pitfalls.

Muniza Ali, the events and direct marketing manager at Oxford University Press (OUP) Pakistan, believes that her organisation’s literary festivals at physical venues were always much-awaited social events.

“Our world hasn’t been the same since the pandemic,” she says. “Our lives were at a standstill and everything came to a halt.”

According to Ali, the lockdown affected business function and hampered mobility, which made it challenging for the OUP to keep organising these events.

“Nevertheless, we rose to the challenge by organising the first-ever digital edition of the Islamabad Literature Festival in 2020,” she says. “The trend has continued. We have had two more digital festivals, which were both hybrid events.”

However, the digital sphere isn’t as rose-tinted as it is sometimes made out to be. Ali asserts that technological problems tend to emerge with an alarming regularity as it is difficult to maintain “an uninterrupted and stable internet connection”. She adds that festival organisers have to reckon with stiff competition for the attention of viewers who can easily access other digital content at the click of a button.

Ali feels that online literary festivals can’t be easily written off as unsuitable alternatives to the literary gatherings held at physical venues.

“The biggest advantage [of going digital] is that we have a global reach,” Ali says. “We don’t need a high budget to organise a digital festival. There are no issues of logistics, venue or managing on-ground festivities.”

Ali believes that it’s difficult to choose whether festivals should be hosted at physical venues or online as both avenues have their strengths and weaknesses.

“The joy of organising a festival at a physical venue is a special experience for [our team] and our guests,” Ali says. “With the pandemic dominating our lives, a hybrid model seems to be the right fit currently. I still hope for a Covid-free world where we can gather and promote the love of literature freely without the fear of being infected.”

OUP Pakistan marketing director Raheela Baqai echoes Ali’s concerns about poor internet connectivity during digital literary festivals.

“It is always interesting to have speakers tune in live in a session [to build] audience engagement,” she says. “But this becomes a major challenge because we can never be sure of what might happen at the time of the session.”

According to Baqai, digital events are comparatively “hassle-free” as international speakers aren’t expected to travel. “They can simply make themselves available for their session(s),” she adds.

Yet, Baqai doesn’t view digital literary festivals as a long-term solution as they don’t provide readers with the opportunity to interact with authors. In addition, she believes that the ambience of a festival can only be achieved through face-to-face interactions.

Baqai feels that a hybrid arrangement, which combines elements of digital and face-to-face interactions, may be a suitable solution. As per OUP Pakistan MD, people throng to lit-fests to meet celebrities. “If they aren’t present, the charm of the event is lost,” Baqai says.

“Digital participation can be an option for international speakers,” she adds. “The audience has to be physically present, though.”

The booksellers

Literary festivals that were held at physical venues weren’t dominated by panel discussions. If the participants wandered out of the main halls and auditoriums where sessions were conducted, they were greeted with the sight of book stalls. Now that these festivals have been taken online, the experience of visiting these stalls seems like a distant memory.

“We cannot forget that on-ground events were social events,” Liberty Books director Sameer Saleem says. “When people attended festivals, they had lunch and drank coffee in addition to attending sessions and buying books. Another thing we cannot forget is that people got to speak to one another about books at festivals. If they planned to buy a book by one author, they frequently discovered another one and ended up buying his or her work as well.”

Saleem states that festival-driven book sales have dwindled by almost 75 percent – an alarming figure that remains a cause for concern. “A hybrid arrangement would be beneficial in our country,” he says. “However, online festivals need to be promoted better so they can reach a global audience and have a greater impact.”

Physical all the way

Many literary enthusiasts still believe that literary festivals should be held at physical venues.

“I prefer physical, outdoor venues,” says Erum Sultan, co-founder of the digital library MyBookshelf. “I don’t think festivals work online at all.”

Kamila Habib, the other co-founder of the initiative, too, feels that such literary extravaganzas should be “physical all the way”.

“The interpersonal connection and sensory experience that you get with an actual festival is incomparable,” Habib says. “As someone who had to suffer through a few online literature festivals during the lockdowns, I really do hope that I never have to go back to staring at a screen for three hours with unstable WiFi.”

The writer is a freelance   journalist and author of    Typically Tanya