Arjen Lubach saves his twin brother Johan Harstad #ILFU17

Writer and television presenter Arjen Lubach has been a fan of Norwegian writer Johan Harstad for years, whose mega-thick book Max, Micha & the Tet offensive has been published in Dutch. He even visited him in Norway. Lubach: 'I was worried that we were so much alike that we had nothing to say to each other.' That turned out to be gargantuan. So it was only logical that he interviewed the writer during Ilfu.

Romance

About the same size and age, same beard, and both in skinny trousers and trainers stung. Arjen Lubach and Johan Harstad look like twins as they climb the stage. No wonder Arjen Lubach immediately recognised himself in Harstad. Ok, that started more as a kindred spirit, Harstad was someone who wanted the same thing as Lubach with his books. Not cursive writing, but with some romance. He recognised himself in Harstad's main characters standing on the sidelines, struggling with the will to participate and at the same time not understanding life.

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But as is always the case with twins, more and more differences stand out the longer you see them. Lubach is the entertainer, involving us in the conversation and making jokes, of which it is unclear whether Harstad likes them too. Yet Harstad does say funny things himself, but it seems unintentional, with a stiff head. For instance, when asked if he himself appears in his book. Yep, namely on page 78. Lubach is taken aback: 'What - she completely missed that!'

He picks up the decimetre-thick pill, which can stand stably on its side, and flicks through to the sentence: 'Johan is not playing along.' According to Lubach, this makes Harstad a kind of reverse Knausgard, Harstad's autobiographical writing compatriot, who himself appears on each of his pages.

600 pages deleted

Asked about the Tet Offensive in the title of his new book, Harstad indulges. He's sitting there now anyway and talks at length about how important the Tet Offensive was to the whole world, unhindered by the sagging audience and the panic of Lubach intervening: 'I actually meant: 'Isn't it a bit weird for someone our age to be interested in the Vietnam War?'

Harstad readily admits that is strange. 'I knew I had to stop writing about the Vietnam War sometime.' (And talk.)

Harstad wrote seven years on this book, quite a long time. 'I am almost forty now, what I had in mind as the central idea seven years ago, I later found no longer interesting.' He soon realised that the book was heading in the direction of very many pages. His publisher did not stop him, but emphasised: each subsequent chapter should be more relevant. 'I deleted more in this book than any other, about six hundred pages.'

'And for this book, did you go to the places you use in this book?', Lubach wants to know. 'Last time you said you looked everything up on Google Streetview.'

Looking up again, Harstad did a lot, in addition to his trips to the United States. 'Writing has changed tremendously in the last 20 years. You can find anything on the internet, for instance the sound of a certain weapon. The point is that you still have to make a selection afterwards and you have to write it down so vividly that you don't notice you've only had the knowledge for three weeks.'  

Didgeridoo

When Lubach hears he has to finish, he asks the audience for help. 'I only have in-depth questions for longer than two minutes.'

What John Harstad thinks of the didgeridoo, a hooting woman wants to know. Harstad leaves little muscle. He doesn't think much of that, full stop, and Lubach gets to fill the remaining minute himself.
Something tells me that an interview with Johan Harstad could have been sleepily boring had it been conducted by anyone other than his entertaining Dutch twin brother.

Half an hour later in the same room, Abdelkader Benali interviewed Nino Haratischwili, who was The Eighth Life wrote about a Georgian family in the 20th century. That book is 100 pages more than Harstad's. A very different interview, with Benali as a polite, well-read interviewer who strikes up a conversation with Haratischwili about all sorts of people in her books that most of the audience does not yet know. We watch and clap just as politely.

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Reading or being read to

But that was an exception to the Ilfu. Almost all presenters and interviewers were smart, good and could improvise masterfully, which is vital for a successful festival. We should not rely on writers alone. I'd rather read those myself. (First Harstad, then Costello.)

Seen: ILFU 2017 day 3.