CLIVEDEN LITERARY FESTIVAL

Cliveden sits on a beautiful stretch of the Thames and each autumn, writers, politicians and public figures gather for its annual literary festival. Sarah Turner finds ideas, history and gossip flowing as easily as the river below

Cliveden has always been a place where ideas have space to develop and grow. Overseeing all the sessions in the Great Hall is John Singer’s Sargent’s portrait of Nancy Astor. Born in Virginia in 1879, she was the first woman to take a seat as an MP in the British parliament and, as Cliveden’s chatelaine, brought together figures as diverse as Winston Churchill, Henry James, Edith Wharton and FD Roosevelt at her house parties. Debate is part of Cliveden’s DNA.

Choosing speakers at a literary festival is also not unlike creating a house party guest list; there has to be balance – light and shade, humour as well as literary heft. At the 2021 weekend, Candace Owens took aim at Biden’s America, Conrad Black traded tales of prison and present-day politicians, while General David Petraeus detailed the highs and lows of his 37-year career in the American military.

Fearless and frank, at times the festival felt like a multi-layered state-of-the-nation discussion. Like all the best literary salons, though, there were also joyous amounts of gossip. Lady Antonia Fraser mentioned that in the 1960s she’d been lent a cottage at Cliveden and that, as a result, she could say that she’d swum with Stephen Ward and Christine Keeler during the Profumo scandal, while Sasha Swire and Michael Gove brought presentday pep to a discussion about political memoirs.

In parterres, rose gardens and across vistas, Cliveden is studded with 19th-century statues and follies, each one different yet contributing to a harmonious

Opposite from left: Lionel Shriver, Sebastian Faulks, Chibundu Onuzo and Kate Mosse. This page, top row from left: Lior Raz and Batia Ofer. Simon Sebag Montefiore and David Baddiel. Bottom row from left: Tina Brown and Leila Slimani. Michael Gove, Lionel Shriver and Dambisa Moyo

whole. And as I wandered around the grounds on the first evening, with twilight beginning to fall, it struck me that the Cliveden Literary Festival achieves the same thing: uniting disparate points of view and experiences into something joyous.

The link to everything in this glorious, mind-expanding weekend is the printed page. John Sandoe – Chelsea’s most charming and cerebral bookseller – took up residence for the weekend. Wander in and you’d find headlining authors both signing books and browsing like the rest of us.

The headliners may be world famous, but festival numbers at Cliveden are kept low and, as a result, authors mingled in the audience and sat in on other talks before taking their place on the stage. And Cliveden had other joys that can be traced back to its past life as a salon and its current role as a luxury hotel. There were the temptations of The Astor Grill, but also – outside Charles Barry’s portico entrance to Cliveden – a Champagne van and delightfully good street food. Unlike most literary festivals, the chairs were distinctly comfortable. And while the festival ricocheted with intelligence, the cleverest of all were those who had booked to stay at Cliveden for the weekend.

Amor Towles – who went from being an investment banker to becoming the bestselling author of A Gentleman in Moscow – brought copies of The Lincoln Highway, his new novel, for everyone in the audience. I was enchanted by Peter Frankopan’s love for the Silk Roads and Kate

Above, from left: Dominic Sandbrook, Sasha Swire, Andrew Roberts, Emma Soames and Michael Gove

Bingham’s role as the former chair of the UK vaccine task force, but also by the little girl who quietly read a book while her mother and grandmother listened to the discussion that Kate Mosse chaired about fiction writing in the 21st century.

Every speaker needs someone to spar with or tease out new information, whether it’s Emerald Fennell talking about being the first British woman to win an Academy Award for her screenplay and playing Camilla Parker-Bowles in The Crown or Turkish-British author Elif Shafak’s talk with Yana Peel, global head of arts and culture at Chanel. “I think,” said Shafak, a bestselling author who writes in two languages, “that these spaces are so precious – cultural festivals where we can slow down and have nuanced conversations.”

The third element in the relationship is the audience. Andrew Roberts fenced beautifully with Barbara Amiel about her no-holes-barred memoir, Friends and Enemies, which ends with a list of which category her acquaintances fall into. “Has anyone gone from your enemies list to becoming a friend?” asked one audience member. “No,” said Amiel, “and they never will,” while the audience – and Roberts – roared with laughter.

When William Waldorf Astor II – Nancy’s son – died, his hope in leaving the estate to the National Trust was that Cliveden would continue to be where important people meet and where US and British relations can flourish. All Cliveden’s owners, from the Duke of Buckingham in the 17th century to Lady Astor – would, I feel, agree that the Literary Festival achieves this beautifully and thoughtfully.

Peter Frankopan Natalie Livingstone and Hannah Rothschild Elif Shafak