THE hills were a blaze of scarlet and orange, the roads a sea of golden leaves. It might have been New England in the Fall, but it was better. This was Perthshire in October – to be precise, Blairgowrie, where the sixth Bookmark Festival was taking place, a mile out of the town centre.

The venue was the primary school in the Community Campus. As one eight-year-old gleefully informed us, the authors’ green room had usurped their Contemplation Room, where pupils retreat to gather their thoughts. He was amused to see this oasis of calm filled with writers, gabbling as fast as football pundits while filling up on coffee, croissants and gossip. Come Monday morning, it would return to its intended purpose. So too the sports hall which had been transformed into a spacious festival theatre, decked with flowers and lanterns.

Bookmark was also blessed with that essential for any good event: a state-of-the-art sound system. Unlike some venues, where the mics hiss like Gollum or pack in midway through the talk, this impressive audio deck was under the control of two young techies who couldn’t believe their luck in being able to indulge their love of books during working hours. Some of their less fortunate colleagues, they said, had been assigned to a Marti Pellow concert in Perth.

As the leaves drop, so the festival circuit winds down. Blairgowrie’s three-day event is one of the last in the annual calendar, which opens in January and February with Further From Book Festival in Linlithgow and Winter Words in Pitlochry, and draws to a close in Shetland and Dumfries in November and December. Hats off to the director at Lerwick for managing to coax authors northwards at that inclement time of year. Not that Pitlochry is ever what you’d call balmy. There’s usually so much frost it looks as if they’ve spilt a wheelbarrow of glitter.

Blairgowrie might not have the same profile as the Edinburgh International Book Festival – the Mother Ship – but it is one of dozens of spin-offs devoted to books and writers that have taken root in the past couple of decades. From Lerwick to Glasgow, Tarbert to Stirling, Dumfries to Ullapool, Melrose to Inverness, these ventures have sprung up like mushrooms, testimony to an appetite for reading that grows with every year.

Some, such as Wigtown, are grant-aided, and run by salaried staff; others, like Bookmark, are small, relying entirely on volunteers. These bijou outfits are just as well run and inviting as the larger fixtures, with the added attraction of focussing on one event at a time, thereby creating an exceptionally relaxed, informal atmosphere. Certainly, during the first Sunday morning event in Blairgowrie, when the festival director’s husband crept into the hall a few minutes late, she could chide him from the platform. He could reply that he’d been doing the housework.

Since this is not a big country, some might ask how many book festivals do we need? To which there is no easy answer, other than a lot more than you’d think. I’ve only been to a fraction of the places on the circuit, yet from the many I’ve attended there is a running theme, an obvious lesson to learn.

Drawing writers from across the UK, and sometimes further afield, they act as a calling card for the area they serve. I overheard a bookseller in Wigtown last month telling a customer that after their first visit some years ago, a couple from the south of England now book into a local B&B every November, allowing them to explore the region, and browse the bookshops in peace. Fifteen years ago, whoever would have thought Wigtown could feel over-crowded? Its status as Scotland’s Book Town, enhanced by its ever-popular festival, has pulled the town up by its bootstraps. Businesses are doing better, the high street offers shops, cafes and galleries that previously would have shrivelled out-of-season, and the hospitality industry has been given an adrenaline shot.

Even more important than the economic benefits these festivals bring is the cultural connection and inspiration they offer. Readers in cities have far more opportunities to buy books and meet authors than those in the countryside or on the islands. Festivals such as Bookmark act as a hub for readers and thinkers, bringing people together in a lively, friendly environment to hear fresh ideas, or simply be entertained. Above all, they encourage attenders to indulge their interest in books.

As a speaker, you quickly get an idea of the sort of audience facing you. With a long heritage of world-class novelists and poets, and a flourishing literary scene today, we pride ourselves on the calibre of literary artist this nation produces. Far too little is said, though, about readers. In my experience, and without exception, whether in village halls or country mansions, rain-battered marquees or Victorian libraries, book festival audiences are engaged, informed and enquiring. Sometimes combative or challenging too. As a writer, they remind you who you’re writing for. What a spur to upping your game.