Magma has a new website and blog, both of them worthy counterparts to what is one of my favourite UK poetry mags (it's one that I tend to buy every issue of, whereas with some I pick and choose a bit more).
You can sample some of the poetry from the new issue, and there's also a couple of interesting pieces, one of them a review of Inventory, Linda Black's Shearsman collection of prose poems, and another Hannah Salt's look at exactly what a prose poem is. Don't ask me for any answers - I'm prepared to accept that a prose poem is a prose poem because the poet says it is.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Buzz
I was away for this year's Templar Poetry Festival, at Cromford, near Matlock, but last night the 2008 Pamphlet Competition anthology, Buzz, had arrived in the post. As ever from Templar, it's very nicely produced, with a good selection of poets and poems. You can also find more details on the 2009 pamphlet competition at the Templar site.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Collected or Selected?
I've just come across a piece advertising a reading by Lee Harwood, in Hove, to mark the launch of his Selected Poems, from Shearsman. Apart from cursing the fact that Hove is halfway across the country (admittedly, living slap bang in the middle of England, that's true of an awful lot of places), it set me thinking.
Two or three years ago I bought Harwood's Collected Poems, also from Shearsman, and enjoyed it hugely. I've gone back to it again and again (in fact, it's my current bedside reading). But several poets and readers have mentioned, in the past, that they much prefer the idea of a Selected to a Collected, the latter symbolically writing an emphatic full stop to the poet's career. Of course, they're often brought out after the poet is dead, but that brings its own problems, not least the fact that they can be packed with juvenilia or poems that the writer would rather had remained consigned to obscurity.
Selecteds, on the other hand, allow the poet to weed out work that he or she would rather they weren't associated with anymore, for whatever reason, and might be thought to provide a truer picture of the poet. They're a good way to spark interest in the poet's individual volumes. The slight problem is that, inevitably, there'll be occasions when they don't include work that the reader only discovers, much later, tucked away in those individual collections. I've had that happen a few times, often with Faber and Faber Selecteds, and as I say, it's probably inevitable.
On the whole, though, my preference would usually be for Selecteds, for the reasons suggested. I wouldn't, as I say, be without that Harwood Collected, nor would I swap my gargantuan Ted Hughes Collected for a slimmer volume. So I guess it comes down to the individual poet. Some need to be read in their entirety because their poetry depends on that much wider context, others simply because you like them so much.
But anyway, I'd be interested to know what anyone else thinks...
* As regards that reading, if you're in or around Hove, this Friday, November 7th, at 6.30pm, it's £6, and is at the Old Market, Upper Market Street, Hove. Ticket price includes free glass of wine and a reduction on books purchased, and is available from City Books, 23 Western Road, Hove, tel: 01273 725 306.
Two or three years ago I bought Harwood's Collected Poems, also from Shearsman, and enjoyed it hugely. I've gone back to it again and again (in fact, it's my current bedside reading). But several poets and readers have mentioned, in the past, that they much prefer the idea of a Selected to a Collected, the latter symbolically writing an emphatic full stop to the poet's career. Of course, they're often brought out after the poet is dead, but that brings its own problems, not least the fact that they can be packed with juvenilia or poems that the writer would rather had remained consigned to obscurity.
Selecteds, on the other hand, allow the poet to weed out work that he or she would rather they weren't associated with anymore, for whatever reason, and might be thought to provide a truer picture of the poet. They're a good way to spark interest in the poet's individual volumes. The slight problem is that, inevitably, there'll be occasions when they don't include work that the reader only discovers, much later, tucked away in those individual collections. I've had that happen a few times, often with Faber and Faber Selecteds, and as I say, it's probably inevitable.
On the whole, though, my preference would usually be for Selecteds, for the reasons suggested. I wouldn't, as I say, be without that Harwood Collected, nor would I swap my gargantuan Ted Hughes Collected for a slimmer volume. So I guess it comes down to the individual poet. Some need to be read in their entirety because their poetry depends on that much wider context, others simply because you like them so much.
But anyway, I'd be interested to know what anyone else thinks...
* As regards that reading, if you're in or around Hove, this Friday, November 7th, at 6.30pm, it's £6, and is at the Old Market, Upper Market Street, Hove. Ticket price includes free glass of wine and a reduction on books purchased, and is available from City Books, 23 Western Road, Hove, tel: 01273 725 306.
Monday, 3 November 2008
Zbigniew Herbert
Following on from Rob Mackenzie's recent posts on him over at Surroundings, there was this piece on Zbigniew Herbert in Friday's Guardian. As I mentioned to Rob, I don't know nearly enough about his poetry, but I remember years ago enjoying one called The Monster Of Mr Cogito so much that I copied it out. The current resurgence of interest in him, and the literary controversy that has gone with it, has given me the nudge I needed to go and seek out more of his work.
Friday, 31 October 2008
So Here We Are 18
I've been pretty poor at posting anything just lately, although for once it's been because I've actually been getting on with some proper writing.
But anyway, here's the latest of poet and Tears In The Fence editor David Caddy's So Here We Are letters. I'll be having a careful read of it over the weekend, because he touches on a few things close to my heart. One is John Clare, of course, but another is the whole idea of the forest in this country, bound up as it is with the Norman Conquest, Robin Hood, and so on. Over several years, I've been piecing together a sequence of poems about Leicestershire-based Hood inspiration Roger Godberd, and this might give me a bit of new impetus to get on with it and finish it.
He also touches on enclosures - although he's talking about events that took place in the 19th century, it was something that had been going on since at least the end of the 16th century, and was the main cause of another of my historical hobby-horses, the Midlands Revolt of 1607. So, read and enjoy, and expect a flood of historical poems from me some time around 2012.
But anyway, here's the latest of poet and Tears In The Fence editor David Caddy's So Here We Are letters. I'll be having a careful read of it over the weekend, because he touches on a few things close to my heart. One is John Clare, of course, but another is the whole idea of the forest in this country, bound up as it is with the Norman Conquest, Robin Hood, and so on. Over several years, I've been piecing together a sequence of poems about Leicestershire-based Hood inspiration Roger Godberd, and this might give me a bit of new impetus to get on with it and finish it.
He also touches on enclosures - although he's talking about events that took place in the 19th century, it was something that had been going on since at least the end of the 16th century, and was the main cause of another of my historical hobby-horses, the Midlands Revolt of 1607. So, read and enjoy, and expect a flood of historical poems from me some time around 2012.
Friday, 24 October 2008
Vote now!
If you've ever looked at the results of a poetry competition and thought "that's all wrong", then here's your chance to influence the outcome of one. The shortlisted poems in this year's Times Literary Supplement Poetry Competition are here, and you can vote for your favourite. I've had a quick scan through, and already have an idea which one I favour, but I'll read them all a few more times before I make a decision. Enjoy!
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Back in Blighty
I’ve just come back from a week in the Azores, where I went to write a couple of articles – one about the archipelago as a birding location generally, and the other about the Priolo Life project, which has been fighting to save the Priolo, or Azores Bullfinch, from extinction.After a brief stopover on Sao Miguel, it was off to Corvo, the smallest and most westerly of the islands, seven square miles of extinct volcano with just enough flat land for a runway and a village. Like the rest of the Azores, it’s covered with lush vegetation, with lots of small cow pastures between thickly wooded valleys and ravines.
In between some torrential rain, we found a Red-eyed Vireo high up on the mountain, but things really took off just after a large container ship had passed the island.
First, Belgian birder David Monticelli found a Common Yellowthroat in a patch of scrubby bushes close to the village. He couldn’t find any of us to tell us until breakfast the next day, so we headed back to the same spot at first light praying it hadn’t disappeared.
It hadn’t. We thought we heard it call once or twice, and then I found it flitting around a patch of maize in the company of some Blackcaps. Later, David found another (or more likely, his original). As we were waiting, though, he also spotted a chunky, strongly marked passerine, and we both got great views of a Rose-breasted Grosbeak.
It’s well-known that a lot of rare transatlantic vagrants hitch a ride part of the way, and here it was in practice. Unfortunately, I had to fly back to the main island, Sao Miguel, at this point, but the others have since found a variety of North American birds of Corvo.
After a slightly hair-raising night drive along the fog-bound, rain-lashed coast road from Ponta Delgado to Nordeste, I met up with the Priolo Life people. The idea was to get stuck in as a volunteer, to give our readers an idea of how to combine a birding holiday with a bit of practical conservation. So, I spent my time high up in the mountains, clambering up and down steep, muddy trails and getting ripped to shreds by brambles while surveying the native plants the Priolo needs if it’s to survive. And of course, we saw plenty of the birds themselves. They’re not, you’d have to say, as colourful or striking as the European Bullfinch, but they’re a fine sight all the same, and thanks to the project, their future looks a little brighter.
Finally, driving back to Ponta Delgado airport, I stopped on a headland along the coast to stretch my legs and tried to tune into BBC Radio 4, to get the India vs Australia cricket score. Instead, I got Start The Week, and by a strange chance the first voice I heard was of poet Jane Holland!
The pictures show (from top): Corvo; Belgian birder David Monticelli trying to photograph the Common Yellowthroat on Corvo; the north coast of Sao Miguel; and Nordeste.
Sunday, 19 October 2008
You Are Here - Simon Turner
You Are Here - Simon Turner(Heaventree Press, 2007) £7.99
Birmingham gets a raw deal, if you ask me. For far too long, the mere name of the city has been a byword for industrial decline and an urban landscape embodying the worst of post-war town planning and architecture.
Me, though, I’ve always liked the place. A lot. The train journey from Leicester to Brum always seemed to involve mile after mile of fragmented, semi-neglected suburbia, and yet it was always exciting. And then the centre, whatever the lack of fit between its Victorian glories and its more recent experiments, was never less than vibrantly alive, yet never managed to attain the sort of glamour or cool that Manchester, for example, has managed.
In the poetry world, though, it does get the celebration it deserves. That’s been down to Roy Fisher, most notably, and in the notes to this remarkably assured first collection, Simon Turner says: “I avoided reading Roy Fisher for a long time, worried that, as a fellow Midlands-based writer, he would come to dominate my style once I had. I was right.”
He’s being far too modest, because while Turner’s poetry does at times bear the trace of Fisher’s relaxed, inclusive modernism, he’s far too good a writer not to let his own voice come through loud and clear.
This is a book in four sections, some relatively lyrical, others dominated by linguistic experimentation, but that fragmented landscape I talked about is a constant presence throughout. It’s there in the nature poems, such as Storm Journal, which choose less obvious subjects than most poets would, and which combine acute observation with a subtle, suggestive language. And importantly, the poet himself is never foregrounded in these works, even when he’s aware of his presence within the scene. The excellent Swifts even references this, being split into the two sections what I say and what they say which wittily rewrite each other from different viewpoints, while in Geographies he even asks: “Why write? These things / are so much themselves.” They are, but his poetry allows for that fact rather than diminishing it.
Turner isn’t afraid to return to the same territory again and again, sometimes within individual poems, but it never gets repetitive because he’s always aware that language has the power to freshen it up each time. The result is a bit like one of those train journeys I mentioned earlier – at times you find yourself moving into a new part of town that looks uncannily similar to where you came from; at others, the passing of time has wrought subtle changes. And so the city is simultaneously ugly and beautiful.
I’ll be honest. A few of the most experimental pieces left me cold, but it’s a good-sized collection and none the worse for taking the opportunity to try things out, take risks. And one of the most impressive features is the way that Turner doesn’t play with language merely for its own sake. Instead, it’s a constant part of the landscape too – crows scry their new alphabet “on the scorched parchment sky”; “the town’s frayed outskirts” become the “furthest edges of speech”; high rise blocks are “a stuttered plea” that the “crazed sky ponders and declines”.
Oh, and one last thing. I’d only come across one Heaventree publication before, Andy Brown’s pamphlet The Trust Territory, but this book confirms the good physical impression made by that. It’s a really nicely put together paperback, with a splendid cover by David Dewis. I know I’ve said it before, but that matters to me.
Of course, it would matter too if the contents didn’t live up to the package, but there’s no problem on that count. Simon Turner is here, to stay I hope.
Birmingham gets a raw deal, if you ask me. For far too long, the mere name of the city has been a byword for industrial decline and an urban landscape embodying the worst of post-war town planning and architecture.
Me, though, I’ve always liked the place. A lot. The train journey from Leicester to Brum always seemed to involve mile after mile of fragmented, semi-neglected suburbia, and yet it was always exciting. And then the centre, whatever the lack of fit between its Victorian glories and its more recent experiments, was never less than vibrantly alive, yet never managed to attain the sort of glamour or cool that Manchester, for example, has managed.
In the poetry world, though, it does get the celebration it deserves. That’s been down to Roy Fisher, most notably, and in the notes to this remarkably assured first collection, Simon Turner says: “I avoided reading Roy Fisher for a long time, worried that, as a fellow Midlands-based writer, he would come to dominate my style once I had. I was right.”
He’s being far too modest, because while Turner’s poetry does at times bear the trace of Fisher’s relaxed, inclusive modernism, he’s far too good a writer not to let his own voice come through loud and clear.
This is a book in four sections, some relatively lyrical, others dominated by linguistic experimentation, but that fragmented landscape I talked about is a constant presence throughout. It’s there in the nature poems, such as Storm Journal, which choose less obvious subjects than most poets would, and which combine acute observation with a subtle, suggestive language. And importantly, the poet himself is never foregrounded in these works, even when he’s aware of his presence within the scene. The excellent Swifts even references this, being split into the two sections what I say and what they say which wittily rewrite each other from different viewpoints, while in Geographies he even asks: “Why write? These things / are so much themselves.” They are, but his poetry allows for that fact rather than diminishing it.
Turner isn’t afraid to return to the same territory again and again, sometimes within individual poems, but it never gets repetitive because he’s always aware that language has the power to freshen it up each time. The result is a bit like one of those train journeys I mentioned earlier – at times you find yourself moving into a new part of town that looks uncannily similar to where you came from; at others, the passing of time has wrought subtle changes. And so the city is simultaneously ugly and beautiful.
I’ll be honest. A few of the most experimental pieces left me cold, but it’s a good-sized collection and none the worse for taking the opportunity to try things out, take risks. And one of the most impressive features is the way that Turner doesn’t play with language merely for its own sake. Instead, it’s a constant part of the landscape too – crows scry their new alphabet “on the scorched parchment sky”; “the town’s frayed outskirts” become the “furthest edges of speech”; high rise blocks are “a stuttered plea” that the “crazed sky ponders and declines”.
Oh, and one last thing. I’d only come across one Heaventree publication before, Andy Brown’s pamphlet The Trust Territory, but this book confirms the good physical impression made by that. It’s a really nicely put together paperback, with a splendid cover by David Dewis. I know I’ve said it before, but that matters to me.
Of course, it would matter too if the contents didn’t live up to the package, but there’s no problem on that count. Simon Turner is here, to stay I hope.
Friday, 17 October 2008
Why chapbooks matter
Go to Alan Baker's blog, Litterbug, and scroll down to the post for September 21st (there are no titles). He makes what is, I think, a very good point, and one that I touched on earlier in the year - the fact that poetry collections seem to be getting longer, sometimes at the expense of quality, rather in the same way that the advent of the CD encouraged bands to fill every album with 70 minutes worth of music, regardless of whether it was worth recording in the first place.
Of course, it's not always true, and there are plenty of collections of which I'm glad that the poet kept going well beyond the old 64-page mark. But Alan's point still stands, I think. In such times, chapbooks can offer the perfect format for a writer who wants to get work out there in between increasingly chunky full collections.
Of course, it's not always true, and there are plenty of collections of which I'm glad that the poet kept going well beyond the old 64-page mark. But Alan's point still stands, I think. In such times, chapbooks can offer the perfect format for a writer who wants to get work out there in between increasingly chunky full collections.
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
So Here We Are 17
More good stuff over at David Caddy's blog - here's the latest of his So Here We Are letters.
Monday, 13 October 2008
Weekend reading
I enjoyed this review of Michael Symmons Roberts' new book, The Half-healed, in The Guardian on Saturday. Roberts is a poet I've not really read enough of, but I really ought to catch up some time soon.
I spent most of the weekend reading in the ridiculously summery weather (someone on the radio this morning said that we'd had the sort of day yesterday "that poets mean when they talk about autumn"), and writing one or two reviews. I even attempted to write some poetry.
I spent most of the weekend reading in the ridiculously summery weather (someone on the radio this morning said that we'd had the sort of day yesterday "that poets mean when they talk about autumn"), and writing one or two reviews. I even attempted to write some poetry.
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Not exactly breaking news, but...
Still a bit bleary-eyed after getting back from London in the middle of the night, having been to the Forward Prize announcement. Not the best of journeys, but even the vagaries of Britain’s railway system couldn’t ruin a really enjoyable day.
You may well have seen by now that Mick Imlah took the Best Collection Prize for The Lost Leader – I’ve only skimmed it so far, but will be taking it with me when I’m away next week for a proper read. I don’t think there’ll be too much argument – from what I’ve read so far, it looks like a worthy winner. It’s terrible to read of his illness, though.
Best First Collection went to Kathryn Simmonds, for her Sunday At The Skin Launderette. That might have qualified as something of a surprise, because I’d guess that most people’s money was on Frances Leviston, but I think this would have been the closest category of all. Anyway, Kathryn’s book was my favourite of those I’ve read, so I was pleased by her win.
Best Individual Poem was won by Don Paterson’s Love Poem For Natalie ‘Tusja’ Beridze. I think Roddy Lumsden hit the nail on the head by describing it as a ‘Marmite poem’ – most readers will either love it or hate it. I’m not a big fan myself, and would like to have seen Tim Turnbull’s Ode On A Grayson Perry Urn win, but never mind.
Anyway, it was good to finally meet Roddy in person, and to chat with some of the judges, publishers and other poets. Congratulations to all the winners and shortlisted poets.
You may well have seen by now that Mick Imlah took the Best Collection Prize for The Lost Leader – I’ve only skimmed it so far, but will be taking it with me when I’m away next week for a proper read. I don’t think there’ll be too much argument – from what I’ve read so far, it looks like a worthy winner. It’s terrible to read of his illness, though.
Best First Collection went to Kathryn Simmonds, for her Sunday At The Skin Launderette. That might have qualified as something of a surprise, because I’d guess that most people’s money was on Frances Leviston, but I think this would have been the closest category of all. Anyway, Kathryn’s book was my favourite of those I’ve read, so I was pleased by her win.
Best Individual Poem was won by Don Paterson’s Love Poem For Natalie ‘Tusja’ Beridze. I think Roddy Lumsden hit the nail on the head by describing it as a ‘Marmite poem’ – most readers will either love it or hate it. I’m not a big fan myself, and would like to have seen Tim Turnbull’s Ode On A Grayson Perry Urn win, but never mind.
Anyway, it was good to finally meet Roddy in person, and to chat with some of the judges, publishers and other poets. Congratulations to all the winners and shortlisted poets.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
New Sphinx
I got home late last night to find the new issue of Sphinx waiting for me. I made the mistake of dipping into it for what was supposed to be five minutes, and ended up reading Rob Mackenzie’s excellent piece on poetry blogging, a fine interview with poet, artist and Stride Magazine editor Rupert Loydell, and Tia Ballantine’s perceptive (and glowing) review of James Wood’s Inextinguishable. Who needs sleep?
There's plenty more still to read, and of course the website contains a wealth of reviews that complement the printed version. Sphinx editor Helena Nelson mentions that it is likely to go totally online in the near future. It’s a shame in some respects, but on the other hand it will give it the opportunity to maintain its high standards without running up huge bills. Stride itself serves as a good example of just how well an independent online mag can work.
Whatever the format, Sphinx remains an essential read for anyone interested in the poetry pamphlet world. Buy one now.
There's plenty more still to read, and of course the website contains a wealth of reviews that complement the printed version. Sphinx editor Helena Nelson mentions that it is likely to go totally online in the near future. It’s a shame in some respects, but on the other hand it will give it the opportunity to maintain its high standards without running up huge bills. Stride itself serves as a good example of just how well an independent online mag can work.
Whatever the format, Sphinx remains an essential read for anyone interested in the poetry pamphlet world. Buy one now.
Monday, 6 October 2008
At last!
Well, who'd have thought it? Only a few weeks ago I was bemoaning the lack of honour accorded to this blog's inspiration, Polyolbion poet Michael Drayton, in his home town of Polesworth, and then this turns up in today's Coventry Evening Telegraph. They've wisely decided against spending any of the cash on a one-off recital of his masterwork, but this will do just fine.
It's that time of year again
A few of the Sunday broadsheets featured poetry yesterday, as always happens the weekend before National Poetry Day. Some talked about the launch of a new initiative to encourage children to learn poetry by heart, while one took a more general approach of asking various celebs and literary luminaries what their favourite poem was.
Of course, that set me thinking what an impossible task it is trying to pick out a single poem (I’d managed to reduce my shortlist to 28 by late last night), but it was also interesting that a lot of the responses were in favour of pre-20th century poetry. Tennyson featured more than once, for example. I’m not sure that says anything significant, other than the fact that in the normal course of things, most people aren’t exposed to a huge amount of contemporary poetry.
Against the odds, the one that particularly caught my eye was Jason Donovan’s choice, which was one of the poems of Harry 'Breaker' Morant, which he had learnt as a kid when his dad was playing Morant in the play of the same name. If my memory serves me correctly, Donovan Senior went on to play an Australian general in the film version, where Edward Woodward took the lead. I’ve no idea about Morant’s merits as a ‘bush poet’, but it’s a great film, and it’s high time it was repeated again (it usually turns up on BBC2 at about 12.15 on a Sunday night).
Of course, that set me thinking what an impossible task it is trying to pick out a single poem (I’d managed to reduce my shortlist to 28 by late last night), but it was also interesting that a lot of the responses were in favour of pre-20th century poetry. Tennyson featured more than once, for example. I’m not sure that says anything significant, other than the fact that in the normal course of things, most people aren’t exposed to a huge amount of contemporary poetry.
Against the odds, the one that particularly caught my eye was Jason Donovan’s choice, which was one of the poems of Harry 'Breaker' Morant, which he had learnt as a kid when his dad was playing Morant in the play of the same name. If my memory serves me correctly, Donovan Senior went on to play an Australian general in the film version, where Edward Woodward took the lead. I’ve no idea about Morant’s merits as a ‘bush poet’, but it’s a great film, and it’s high time it was repeated again (it usually turns up on BBC2 at about 12.15 on a Sunday night).
Thursday, 2 October 2008
Day jobs
I came across this piece on the Poetry Society’s website the other day. It would have been nice to see a bit more on each person, maybe, and a wider cross-section of poets generally, but it’s interesting stuff.
There are certainly occasions when I curse the fact that a day job leaves far too little time for writing poetry (not least at the moment), but on the whole I think my attitude probably comes closest to Dennis O’Driscoll’s. Which is to say, however much I think I like the idea of having nothing to do all day except write, in reality I know it would involve a rapid descent into friendless, Crunchy Nut Cornflake addiction in front of repeats of Minder.
On reflection, I think having a day job forces me to be a bit more disciplined in my poetry writing, to make full use of my spare time. Plus, luckily, parts of my job are quite conducive to poetry – long drives, lots of yomping around looking for birds, and easy access to a computer, for example. So what do you think?
There are certainly occasions when I curse the fact that a day job leaves far too little time for writing poetry (not least at the moment), but on the whole I think my attitude probably comes closest to Dennis O’Driscoll’s. Which is to say, however much I think I like the idea of having nothing to do all day except write, in reality I know it would involve a rapid descent into friendless, Crunchy Nut Cornflake addiction in front of repeats of Minder.
On reflection, I think having a day job forces me to be a bit more disciplined in my poetry writing, to make full use of my spare time. Plus, luckily, parts of my job are quite conducive to poetry – long drives, lots of yomping around looking for birds, and easy access to a computer, for example. So what do you think?
Monday, 29 September 2008
Busy, busy, busy
I was a bit surprised to receive my copy of The Forward Book Of Poetry 2009 this morning (I’d sort of assumed they’d hand them out at the launch, or post them out after that). Anyway, it’s pretty exciting and a little bit unreal to find my name in there among a host of well-known and justifiably lauded poets, and I was intrigued to see which of my poems they’d picked. It turned out to be Holiday, 1939, which you can read here (and scroll down further to find my comments on it).
At the weekend, it was good to hear Jane Holland, Simon Turner, Matt Nunn, Jane Commane, George Ttoouli and Tony Walsh read at Atherstone – a variety of styles, from Simon’s modernist urban pastorals, to Tony’s polished and thought-provoking slam poetry. But it was all excellent, and it was nice to put some faces to names, too. I bought Simon’s book, You Are Here, from Heaventree Press, and what I’ve read so far is extremely impressive. Very nicely produced, too, with an eyecatching cover.
Finally, I got two poems accepted by Under The Radar magazine – A Fixer-Upper, and St Beuno Meets The English. Oh, and I seem to have lost my voice.
At the weekend, it was good to hear Jane Holland, Simon Turner, Matt Nunn, Jane Commane, George Ttoouli and Tony Walsh read at Atherstone – a variety of styles, from Simon’s modernist urban pastorals, to Tony’s polished and thought-provoking slam poetry. But it was all excellent, and it was nice to put some faces to names, too. I bought Simon’s book, You Are Here, from Heaventree Press, and what I’ve read so far is extremely impressive. Very nicely produced, too, with an eyecatching cover.
Finally, I got two poems accepted by Under The Radar magazine – A Fixer-Upper, and St Beuno Meets The English. Oh, and I seem to have lost my voice.
Thursday, 25 September 2008
Deva (not diva)
I’m ashamed to say that until Monday, I’d never been to Chester before. Not properly, anyway, just zoomed past on the way to Liverpool, or North Wales, or wherever. So, it’s always good when a poetry reading allows you to fill large gap in your knowledge, and it won’t be the last time I visit. For starters, it was surprisingly quick and easy to get to, now that there's a quick cut-through from the M1 to the M6.
More to the point, it’s a lovely small city. No surprise there, really. Roman ruins, a medieval street layout including almost intact city walls and gateways and plenty of half-timbered houses (although a lot of these are actually Victorian). What’s not to like?
The main business of my trip, though, was to read as guest poet at the Zest! Open Mic, at Alexander’s Jazz Theatre Bar. Zest! is a monthly event, run by fellow HappenStance poet Gill McEvoy (her pamphlet Uncertain Days is highly recommended, and she has a full collection forthcoming from Cinnamon Press in 2010).
Alexander’s is a terrific venue. Tucked just below the city walls, it’s intimate enough that you feel part of a tight-knit group, but large enough to accommodate audiences of 70-80. I’m not sure how many were in on Monday – maybe 40-50?
Anyway, there was a good mix of young and old, and a fair few got up to read poems too, whether their own or other people’s. And read them very well, for the most part. Among the highlights were a chap called Miguel’s heartfelt and animated recitation from memory, Len’s beautifully scanned elegy, Aled’s use of Welsh, and (I think) Phil’s excellent poem on Klimt. Oh, and Gill read two fine pieces, and her Zest! colleagues Leih and Caroline also read very well.
There was also Chris Kinsey, whose name I know of old from countless magazines and whose Ragged Raven collection Kung Fu Lullabies I must get hold of (not least for that great title). She read very well, and when I got to work this morning I flicked through the new issue of BBC Wildlife and found that she’s the winner of this year’s BBC Wildlife Poet Of The Year award – fully deserved, too, because her The Morning After The Clocks Went Back, in the space of 12 short lines, manages to observe nature acutely, remain beautifully understated and poised, and still spring a surprising image on the reader.
I’ve already posted my set-list, but it was interesting that chatting to people afterwards, the one poem that people kept mentioning as a favourite was Knots. I’m glad, partly because it’s always intriguing when people pick out less obvious pieces, and partly because I always worry that it’s a bit too bird-y. And I sold a few books and pamphlets on the back of it, which is a bonus!
The following day, I was out at Ness Marshes by just after 9. There are wide grazing marshes overlooking the Dee Estuary, and although it’s a bit early in the year for most of the waders and wildfowl, there were good numbers of Lapwings and plenty of corvids and small passerines around the path. Ravens gronked over at intervals, two Buzzards and a handful of Kestrels hunted close to the road, and then things really hotted up, with a female Hen Harrier quartering the fields, a Peregrine perched on one of the fenceposts, and a male Merlin on another until it was chased away by an irate Crow.
After that it was back into Chester to soak up a bit of history, and of course to search the bookshops. Bluecoat Books, on the city walls just next to Alexander’s, was excellent, so I bought Robin Robertson’s Swithering for £4, to replace a copy I lent to someone. It’s reminded me what an excellent collection it is. In the little Waterstones in town, I bought Bernard O’Donoghue’s Selected and a history of the Spanish Civil War. I’ve been meaning to get the latter for a while, because my knowledge of it is very sketchy – at university, I remember realising in horror the day before my Industrial Europe exam that it was one of the mandatory subjects, and spending 12 hours reading a book on it from cover to cover in an only-just-successful attempt to avert disaster.
More to the point, it’s a lovely small city. No surprise there, really. Roman ruins, a medieval street layout including almost intact city walls and gateways and plenty of half-timbered houses (although a lot of these are actually Victorian). What’s not to like?
The main business of my trip, though, was to read as guest poet at the Zest! Open Mic, at Alexander’s Jazz Theatre Bar. Zest! is a monthly event, run by fellow HappenStance poet Gill McEvoy (her pamphlet Uncertain Days is highly recommended, and she has a full collection forthcoming from Cinnamon Press in 2010).
Alexander’s is a terrific venue. Tucked just below the city walls, it’s intimate enough that you feel part of a tight-knit group, but large enough to accommodate audiences of 70-80. I’m not sure how many were in on Monday – maybe 40-50?
Anyway, there was a good mix of young and old, and a fair few got up to read poems too, whether their own or other people’s. And read them very well, for the most part. Among the highlights were a chap called Miguel’s heartfelt and animated recitation from memory, Len’s beautifully scanned elegy, Aled’s use of Welsh, and (I think) Phil’s excellent poem on Klimt. Oh, and Gill read two fine pieces, and her Zest! colleagues Leih and Caroline also read very well.
There was also Chris Kinsey, whose name I know of old from countless magazines and whose Ragged Raven collection Kung Fu Lullabies I must get hold of (not least for that great title). She read very well, and when I got to work this morning I flicked through the new issue of BBC Wildlife and found that she’s the winner of this year’s BBC Wildlife Poet Of The Year award – fully deserved, too, because her The Morning After The Clocks Went Back, in the space of 12 short lines, manages to observe nature acutely, remain beautifully understated and poised, and still spring a surprising image on the reader.
I’ve already posted my set-list, but it was interesting that chatting to people afterwards, the one poem that people kept mentioning as a favourite was Knots. I’m glad, partly because it’s always intriguing when people pick out less obvious pieces, and partly because I always worry that it’s a bit too bird-y. And I sold a few books and pamphlets on the back of it, which is a bonus!
The following day, I was out at Ness Marshes by just after 9. There are wide grazing marshes overlooking the Dee Estuary, and although it’s a bit early in the year for most of the waders and wildfowl, there were good numbers of Lapwings and plenty of corvids and small passerines around the path. Ravens gronked over at intervals, two Buzzards and a handful of Kestrels hunted close to the road, and then things really hotted up, with a female Hen Harrier quartering the fields, a Peregrine perched on one of the fenceposts, and a male Merlin on another until it was chased away by an irate Crow.
After that it was back into Chester to soak up a bit of history, and of course to search the bookshops. Bluecoat Books, on the city walls just next to Alexander’s, was excellent, so I bought Robin Robertson’s Swithering for £4, to replace a copy I lent to someone. It’s reminded me what an excellent collection it is. In the little Waterstones in town, I bought Bernard O’Donoghue’s Selected and a history of the Spanish Civil War. I’ve been meaning to get the latter for a while, because my knowledge of it is very sketchy – at university, I remember realising in horror the day before my Industrial Europe exam that it was one of the mandatory subjects, and spending 12 hours reading a book on it from cover to cover in an only-just-successful attempt to avert disaster.
Tuesday, 23 September 2008
Zest!
Just back from Chester after reading as the guest poet at the Zest! open mic last night - very enjoyable indeed. It's a really vibrant monthly event, and there were plenty of really good poets and poems on show.
Anyway, I'll post about it properly later in the week (I also managed to do a bit of birding and a lot of rummaging through bookshops), but for now, here's my set-list.
Set One
Familiar
Knots
The Meeting Place
Probably The Ponzo Illusion
Poem ("Today we haven't stopped to think...")
The Memory Of Water
Scorpio Over La Selva
Troy Town
Set Two
At Home
Show, Don't Tell
To A Flame
Ringing Redstarts
Another
The Mad Mile
Raining, Craswall, Evening
Anyway, I'll post about it properly later in the week (I also managed to do a bit of birding and a lot of rummaging through bookshops), but for now, here's my set-list.
Set One
Familiar
Knots
The Meeting Place
Probably The Ponzo Illusion
Poem ("Today we haven't stopped to think...")
The Memory Of Water
Scorpio Over La Selva
Troy Town
Set Two
At Home
Show, Don't Tell
To A Flame
Ringing Redstarts
Another
The Mad Mile
Raining, Craswall, Evening
Friday, 19 September 2008
Coming soon...
Just a quick reminder - I'll be reading as part of the Zest! Open Floor Poetry Night, at Alexander's Jazz Theatre Bar, Chester, at 8pm on Monday (September 22nd). There's also an open mic spot, so you can bring along your own or a favourite poem to read.
The venue is in Rufus Court, off Northgate Street, and entry is £3/£2. See you there.
The venue is in Rufus Court, off Northgate Street, and entry is £3/£2. See you there.
Thursday, 18 September 2008
And another review
The latest issue of Iota (No82) was waiting when I got home last night. It's the last one produced by the current editors, Bob Mee and Janet Murch, who have turned it into a really good small press magazine, IMHO. Sometimes the poetry is a little hit or miss, but to be honest I think that's what I want from a magazine. It means there are always surprises, and that's not always true of some rather more feted publications.
From next issue, it's going to be produced by a new editorial team, and published and distributed by Bluechrome Press, so there's every chance it will go from strength to strength.
Anyway, I had a new poem, St Martin's Summer, in No82, plus there was this review of Troy Town, by Bob Mee, which was a pleasant surprise. Good to see Adrian Buckner's collection Contains Mild Peril reviewed extensively and positively too - it's on my To Buy list, and not just because it contains a section of cricket poems.
From next issue, it's going to be produced by a new editorial team, and published and distributed by Bluechrome Press, so there's every chance it will go from strength to strength.
Anyway, I had a new poem, St Martin's Summer, in No82, plus there was this review of Troy Town, by Bob Mee, which was a pleasant surprise. Good to see Adrian Buckner's collection Contains Mild Peril reviewed extensively and positively too - it's on my To Buy list, and not just because it contains a section of cricket poems.
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
A walk in the country
A couple of yards from my desk in the office, the good people of Country Walking magazine go about their business. Speaking as someone partial to yomping round the Peak District on a regular basis, it's a magazine I've always enjoyed, but the new (October) issue is particularly good.
It's a Yorkshire special, and contains a fine piece by editor Jonathan Manning about Ian McMillan. There are a couple of newish poems included, and as ever, McMillan is good company.
It strikes me that, should he be interested, they could do a lot worse than McMillan as the next Poet Laureate, because he seems completely lacking in self-consciousness about mixing populist and less accessible poetry. A couple of years ago, for example, I bought one of those issues of The North in which the poems are presented anonymously, and you have to turn to a key at the back to find out who wrote what. There was a really fine poem from McMillan in there, and at the time I'd never have guessed that it was from him, so far was it from the rather lighter stuff you often see and hear from him on TV and radio.
The same issue contains my own article about walking on Ilkley Moor with Yorkshire and England fast bowling legend Matthew Hoggard, and all the usual features. Oh, and it recommends Timothy Taylor Landlord, Black Sheep and Sam Smith's Bitter - surely three of the finest beers ever to be supped.
It's a Yorkshire special, and contains a fine piece by editor Jonathan Manning about Ian McMillan. There are a couple of newish poems included, and as ever, McMillan is good company.
It strikes me that, should he be interested, they could do a lot worse than McMillan as the next Poet Laureate, because he seems completely lacking in self-consciousness about mixing populist and less accessible poetry. A couple of years ago, for example, I bought one of those issues of The North in which the poems are presented anonymously, and you have to turn to a key at the back to find out who wrote what. There was a really fine poem from McMillan in there, and at the time I'd never have guessed that it was from him, so far was it from the rather lighter stuff you often see and hear from him on TV and radio.
The same issue contains my own article about walking on Ilkley Moor with Yorkshire and England fast bowling legend Matthew Hoggard, and all the usual features. Oh, and it recommends Timothy Taylor Landlord, Black Sheep and Sam Smith's Bitter - surely three of the finest beers ever to be supped.
Titchwell update
Here are some of Mike Weedon's wader shots from Monday's big day's filming, over at Weedon's World Of Nature. Love the phalarope, and it's alwaays nice to see Turnstones.
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
Titchwell time
We were over at the RSPB reserve at Titchwell yesterday, taking advantage of the good weather to crack on with filming of the next Bird Watching DVD. It's good fun, whispering to camera David Attenborough style and fighting the urge to shout excitedly every time a good bird comes into view.
We quickly found the juvenile Red-necked Phalarope that had been reported there, and although it flew off to the far side of the lagoons for a while, it gradually worked its way back during the day, until we were able to get good views of it behaving in typical phalarope fashion - swimming frantically in tiny circles to stir up food, and jabbing at the water with its needle-thin bill.
There was a Pectoral Sandpiper, too, although only fairly briefly, but we did get great views of four Little Stints that fed only a few yards from the path along the bank. Plenty of other waders, too - Avocets, Curlew, Curlew Sandpipers, Lapwings, Redshanks, Greenshanks, Ruff, Bar-tailed Godwits, Turnstones and Oystercatchers.
We had a quick trip to the fen hide, and saw a male Redstart (my more patient colleague Mr Weedon hung around longer and was rewarded with good views of a Bittern, plus two Whinchats), then picked up an early male Hen Harrier hunting over the saltmarsh and fields just outside the reserve, over towards Thornham.
As I prepared to do a piece to camera scanning over the lagoons, virtually every wader, gull and goose on the reserve rose into the air making a huge clamour, a sure sign that a raptor was around, and sure enough a Peregrine dived into the heart of the flocks, although it seemed to come up empty-taloned. It was truly spectacular, though.
And the thing is, Titchwell is set to change over the next few years, as the sea encroaches. The policy of managed retreat means that some of the freshwater marsh will inevitably disappear. In the meantime, if you have any interest in birds and happen to be around north Norfolk, go and enjoy what is still, in my opinion, the RSPB's best reserve - accessible, compact, family-friendly and always packed with superb birds.
We quickly found the juvenile Red-necked Phalarope that had been reported there, and although it flew off to the far side of the lagoons for a while, it gradually worked its way back during the day, until we were able to get good views of it behaving in typical phalarope fashion - swimming frantically in tiny circles to stir up food, and jabbing at the water with its needle-thin bill.
There was a Pectoral Sandpiper, too, although only fairly briefly, but we did get great views of four Little Stints that fed only a few yards from the path along the bank. Plenty of other waders, too - Avocets, Curlew, Curlew Sandpipers, Lapwings, Redshanks, Greenshanks, Ruff, Bar-tailed Godwits, Turnstones and Oystercatchers.
We had a quick trip to the fen hide, and saw a male Redstart (my more patient colleague Mr Weedon hung around longer and was rewarded with good views of a Bittern, plus two Whinchats), then picked up an early male Hen Harrier hunting over the saltmarsh and fields just outside the reserve, over towards Thornham.
As I prepared to do a piece to camera scanning over the lagoons, virtually every wader, gull and goose on the reserve rose into the air making a huge clamour, a sure sign that a raptor was around, and sure enough a Peregrine dived into the heart of the flocks, although it seemed to come up empty-taloned. It was truly spectacular, though.
And the thing is, Titchwell is set to change over the next few years, as the sea encroaches. The policy of managed retreat means that some of the freshwater marsh will inevitably disappear. In the meantime, if you have any interest in birds and happen to be around north Norfolk, go and enjoy what is still, in my opinion, the RSPB's best reserve - accessible, compact, family-friendly and always packed with superb birds.
Sunday, 14 September 2008
On the Horizon
The first edition of Horizon Review, Salt Publishing's new online magazine, is now live. Edited by Jane Holland, it includes poems by, among others, Alison Brackenbury, George Szirtes, James Midgeley, Rob Mackenzie, Andrew Shields, Andrew Philip, Zoe Brigley and Katy Evans-Bush, plus art, fiction, reviews and articles. It looks a great read - ideal for a quiet Sunday afternoon.
I also received the new Tears In The Fence yesterday and have been dipping in and out of it since. So far I've liked Julie Lumsden's poems, and enjoyed Tom Chivers' regular column and a review of a book by Elisabeth Bletsoe. I like the look of her poems a lot, and will have to get hold of the volume in question.
Finally, Poetry Nottingham arrived in the week. I've got a poem, Troglodyte, in there, and there's loads of good stuff by the likes of DA Prince.
I also received the new Tears In The Fence yesterday and have been dipping in and out of it since. So far I've liked Julie Lumsden's poems, and enjoyed Tom Chivers' regular column and a review of a book by Elisabeth Bletsoe. I like the look of her poems a lot, and will have to get hold of the volume in question.
Finally, Poetry Nottingham arrived in the week. I've got a poem, Troglodyte, in there, and there's loads of good stuff by the likes of DA Prince.
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