Scottish writer Ali Smith is an engaging reader.

Beating one foot on the floor, her bracelets jangled as one hand conducted and punctuated the rhythmic bursts of her sentences, rising in midair to knock at the door behind which one character had barricaded himself.

Her latest novel There But For The contains four sections narrated by different characters. The excerpts she read showcased the diversity of registers and voices at her disposal.

One story, the tale of a dystopian future supposedly written by a precocious 17-year-old, had never been performed before.

Her imaginative wordplay led to unexpected connections: “Of course, there’s no such thing as inconsequence in a story…” which in turn sparked an animated debate about literary forms and the future of the short story.

The attentive audience were shy in asking questions, tentatively picking up on the musical references in the text. Smith described the peculiar research experience of listening to the pop hits of 1980 and noted the number of lyrics about surveillance and nuclear war in that “rough and raw English moment” emerging from a haze of disco and punk.

She explained the curious nature of a writer’s life: the writing self, with personality subsumed into the blank page in front; the editing self, analyzing and reworking with detachment; and finally the animated, enthusiastic presenter and literary advocate.

Smith’s curiosity and enthusiasm made an hour and a half in her company an invigorating breath of fresh air.