ON 13 JANUARY, the first day of the Galle Literary Festival, I was torn. Pulled in different directions by a desire for a boozy lunch, or the promise of a walk through the architectural glory of the University of Ruhuna, or the chance to hear Sebastian Faulks discuss James Bond and his book Devil May Care, I gave in to none. Instead, with sweat dribbling down my back, I chose what most caught-without-a-hat-in-tropical-sunshine would choose—the closest venue, and it was air-conditioned.
The predicaments of the Galle Literary Festival (GLF), which is back after a four-year hiatus, are problems you would like to have. From garden and island excursions, exhibitions, parties and performances, to cooking and cocktail-making classes, to sessions that bring poets and the audience together, and if you want,…