It's been a strange sort of Christmas. I was away in Northumberland helping host our Readers' Christmas Holiday on the big day itself, which was great fun. Plenty of good food, a few drinks, quizzes, some poetry, and of course lots of birds. On Boxing Day, we watched a few sites along Druridge Bay, and among other highlights got great views of a dog Otter and a Bittern.
Unfortunately, since getting back, I've been struggling badly with a cold, but it has at least allowed me to get on with plenty of reading and writing. And of course, I've been fine-tuning my Best of 2008 lists.
As ever, they're far from comprehensive, due to me having a less than reliable memory, and the fact that there are quite a few books that I bought this year that I'm only now getting round to reading. But for what it's worth, here they are:
Best new poetry collections (some might be 2007 books)
The Bestiary - Sam Meekings
A Winged Head - Graham Hartill
You Are Here - Simon Turner
The Yellow Studio - Stephen Romer
Breaking The Glass - LouAnn Muhm
Singing In The Dark - Alison Brackenbury
Backward Turning Sea - Kelvin Corcoran
Best chapbooks
Inextinguishable - James W Wood
Lady Godiva and Me - Liam Guilar
Rebuilding A Number 39 - Marilyn Ricci
Paper Run - Jim C Wilson
Lament of the Wanderer - Jane Holland
Persephone In Hades - Ruth Pitter (a new edition from HappenStance)
Best Collected/Selecteds (of those I've read this year - they're not necessarily recent)
Selected Poems - Michael Hofmann
Selected Poems - Bernard O'Donoghue (as mainstream poets go, undeservedly overlooked and underrated, I think)
Magpie Words - Richard Caddel
Collected Poems - Lynette Roberts
Gyrfalcon Poems - Colin Simms (a sort of Collected on a single theme, I suppose. One for the birdwatcher, maybe, but excellent)
Collected Later Poems - RS Thomas
Best anthology
In Person: 30 Poets (Bloodaxe) - not perfect, but a great idea, well executed, and for £12. A format we'll be seeing a lot more of, I think.
Best 'back catalogue' books
Almost - Oliver Reynolds
A Robin Hood Book - Alan Halsey
Best fiction
The Dig - John Preston
Engleby - Sebastian Faulks
Best non-fiction books
Bloodfeud: Murder and Revenge In Anglo-Saxon England – Richard Fletcher
The Man Who Went Into The West – Byron Rogers
Poetry Wars - Peter Barry
The Peregrine - J A Baker
Oh, and best bird of the year? Well, I think it's a toss-up between the Red-footed Falcon at Ingleby at the end of May, or the migrating Black Redstart that appeared just outside my front door earlier in the spring.
So, here's to a happy and peaceful 2009 for everyone. I'll be back in 2009...
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Friday, 26 December 2008
Common Yellowthroat
This superb picture of a Common Yellowthroat was taken by Belgian birder and photographer David Monticelli on Corvo, in The Azores, back in mid-October.It was one of a number of American vagrants that were turning up on the tiny mid-Atlantic island at the time, and David searched patiently for it to get this shot, in the meantime finding a Rose-breasted Grosbeak, and helping the rest of us uncover another Common Yellowthroat.
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
Merry Christmas!
No sign of any snow (a couple of weeks back a white Christmas was looking a good bet here), but who cares? It's well and truly holiday time, so I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, that you all get exactly the presents you wanted, and that none of you has to eat any more sprouts than a human being can reasonably be expected to.
Friday, 19 December 2008
How had I never heard of him?
Merritt (with this particular spelling) isn't a very common surname in the UK (although it seems much more widespread in the USA), so I've always struggled hard to find anyone famous or just prominent in a particular field who shares it.
There's Stephin Merritt, mastermind behind The Magnetic Fields. And then there's country star Tift Merritt, who I once interviewed for a local paper. But how come I'd never heard of this bloke?
I feel duty-bound to go out and try to find some of his records now.
There's Stephin Merritt, mastermind behind The Magnetic Fields. And then there's country star Tift Merritt, who I once interviewed for a local paper. But how come I'd never heard of this bloke?
I feel duty-bound to go out and try to find some of his records now.
Thursday, 18 December 2008
Brittle Star online
You can click here to read and hear the contents of Issue 19 of Brittle Star, including my poem Treaty House. Lots of good stuff in there - enjoy!
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Rom coms ruin your life
Nothing entirely surprising in that conclusion, but there's nothing like overstating the results of a single, not especially scientific study, and I can't help feeling that the researchers failed to follow up on a second, much more interesting point.
We're told: "As part of the project, 100 student volunteers were asked to watch the 2001 romantic comedy Serendipity, while a further 100 watched a David Lynch drama. Students watching the romantic film were later found to be more likely to believe in fate and destiny. A further study found that fans of romantic comedies had a stronger belief in predestined love."
What I'd really like to know is, were the students who watched the David Lynch film later found to be more likely to believe in extraordinary revelations made through surreal nightmares involving backwards-talking dwarfs? I know I am.
We're told: "As part of the project, 100 student volunteers were asked to watch the 2001 romantic comedy Serendipity, while a further 100 watched a David Lynch drama. Students watching the romantic film were later found to be more likely to believe in fate and destiny. A further study found that fans of romantic comedies had a stronger belief in predestined love."
What I'd really like to know is, were the students who watched the David Lynch film later found to be more likely to believe in extraordinary revelations made through surreal nightmares involving backwards-talking dwarfs? I know I am.
They're here!
At last, the promised Waxwing invasion has reached north west Leicestershire. They've been reported in good numbers along the UK's east coast, but had seemed determined to skirt my patch, resolutely staying just a couple of miles outside.
Today, though, a couple were occasionally visible but very elusive down at the Gracedieu end of Thringstone, and another two were much more obliging on trees alongside Sileby Road, Barrow-on-Soar. So, more of a reconnaissance than an actual invasion, but at the latter site, I noticed a tree not far down the road absolutely dripping with berries, so maybe more will follow.
UPDATE: Apparently there's now (Thursday the 18th) a dozen or so in the Castle Park / St Nicholas's Circle area of Leicester City Centre. That's more like it!
Today, though, a couple were occasionally visible but very elusive down at the Gracedieu end of Thringstone, and another two were much more obliging on trees alongside Sileby Road, Barrow-on-Soar. So, more of a reconnaissance than an actual invasion, but at the latter site, I noticed a tree not far down the road absolutely dripping with berries, so maybe more will follow.
UPDATE: Apparently there's now (Thursday the 18th) a dozen or so in the Castle Park / St Nicholas's Circle area of Leicester City Centre. That's more like it!
Friday, 12 December 2008
Shindig!
Well, despite my fears that the miserable weather and the attractions of late-night shopping would keep people away, there was a really good turnout at last night's reading at the Friends Meeting House, on Queen's Road in Leicester. Several familiar faces, from Leicester Poetry Society and elsewhere, including HappenStance poets DA Prince and Marilyn Ricci.
Jane Commane kicked things off, but unfortunately I missed most of her set. Matt Nunn, one of the other poets reading, had got lost on one of the more unfathomable bits of Leicester's road system, so I had to try to guide him in on the mobile. The audience response was very good, though, and her poems in Under The Radar 2, which was being launched, are really excellent.
I read next, and thoroughly enjoyed myself, which is always a good sign. I tried a couple of new, or at least new-ish poems, and they seemed to go down well, which was encouraging.
After the interval, we had an open mic slot, and very possibly the performance of the night came from a Nottingham poet called Chris (I've forgotten his surname, stupidly - drop me a line if you read this, Chris!), who read from memory and was absolutely electrifying. Several people afterwards said just how much they had enjoyed his reading, and I hope I'll be seeing him again round Leicester or Nottingham soon. There was Mark Goodwin, who's been published by Shearsman and whose work I've enjoyed in a number of magazines over the years; Caroline Cook, another small press mag stalwart and whose poem Sex With Larkin proved popular; and Colin Derrick, who bravely read his first-ever poems, very well.
Matt had arrived by then, and a good thing too. He's very, very funny, and yet at the same time always utterly serious. There's anger and poignancy in there too, and his delivery is, I think, spot-on. He's got a new collection coming out next year - keep an eye out for it.
Finally, Jane Holland read from her new Salt collection, Camper Van Blues, plus one poem from On Warwick. It was a good way to round things off, because CVB seemed to touch on quite a few strands that other poets had brushed up against earlier in the evening. And everybody seemed to go home pleased with what they'd seen and heard, so I hope it will be the first of a series of similar events. I've spent most of today writing for work and watching England surprise everyone in Chennai, but I'll get moving with organising a follow-up ASAP.
Oh, and of course, here's the set-list:
The Meeting Place
At Home
Scorpio Over La Selva
Things Left In Hotel Rooms
Troy Town
At Gedney Hill
The Memory Of Water
January
Midstream
Window Seat
Raining, Craswall, Evening
Jane Commane kicked things off, but unfortunately I missed most of her set. Matt Nunn, one of the other poets reading, had got lost on one of the more unfathomable bits of Leicester's road system, so I had to try to guide him in on the mobile. The audience response was very good, though, and her poems in Under The Radar 2, which was being launched, are really excellent.
I read next, and thoroughly enjoyed myself, which is always a good sign. I tried a couple of new, or at least new-ish poems, and they seemed to go down well, which was encouraging.
After the interval, we had an open mic slot, and very possibly the performance of the night came from a Nottingham poet called Chris (I've forgotten his surname, stupidly - drop me a line if you read this, Chris!), who read from memory and was absolutely electrifying. Several people afterwards said just how much they had enjoyed his reading, and I hope I'll be seeing him again round Leicester or Nottingham soon. There was Mark Goodwin, who's been published by Shearsman and whose work I've enjoyed in a number of magazines over the years; Caroline Cook, another small press mag stalwart and whose poem Sex With Larkin proved popular; and Colin Derrick, who bravely read his first-ever poems, very well.
Matt had arrived by then, and a good thing too. He's very, very funny, and yet at the same time always utterly serious. There's anger and poignancy in there too, and his delivery is, I think, spot-on. He's got a new collection coming out next year - keep an eye out for it.
Finally, Jane Holland read from her new Salt collection, Camper Van Blues, plus one poem from On Warwick. It was a good way to round things off, because CVB seemed to touch on quite a few strands that other poets had brushed up against earlier in the evening. And everybody seemed to go home pleased with what they'd seen and heard, so I hope it will be the first of a series of similar events. I've spent most of today writing for work and watching England surprise everyone in Chennai, but I'll get moving with organising a follow-up ASAP.
Oh, and of course, here's the set-list:
The Meeting Place
At Home
Scorpio Over La Selva
Things Left In Hotel Rooms
Troy Town
At Gedney Hill
The Memory Of Water
January
Midstream
Window Seat
Raining, Craswall, Evening
Wednesday, 10 December 2008
A final reminder...
Just to mention (yet again!) that there'll be live poetry and an open mic at the launch of Issue 2 of Under The Radar magazine, at Friends Meeting House, Queen’s Road, Leicester, at 7.30pm tomorrow.
Jane Holland, editor of Horizon Review, will be reading from her latest collection, Camper Van Blues; Matt Nunn, one of UTR's editors and a very funny man, will read from his forthcoming collection, Sounds in the Grass; UTR's other driving force, Jane Commane, will read a selection of her recent work; and I'll be reading from Troy Town and one or two newer pieces. It's all free, and open mic slots are available, so turn up early to register for a place. We're not allowed alcohol in there, sadly, but there will be soft drinks and a few nibbles.
More information at www.ninearchespress.com
Jane Holland, editor of Horizon Review, will be reading from her latest collection, Camper Van Blues; Matt Nunn, one of UTR's editors and a very funny man, will read from his forthcoming collection, Sounds in the Grass; UTR's other driving force, Jane Commane, will read a selection of her recent work; and I'll be reading from Troy Town and one or two newer pieces. It's all free, and open mic slots are available, so turn up early to register for a place. We're not allowed alcohol in there, sadly, but there will be soft drinks and a few nibbles.
More information at www.ninearchespress.com
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Oliver Postgate
I know banal and repetitive reminiscences about 1970s childhoods are a staple of stand-up comics, novelists and TV talking heads these days, but I couldn’t let the death of animator extraordinaire Oliver Postgate, aged 83, go unmarked.
Never mind what the actual animation was like – in those days long before Pixar, we didn’t care anyway, and I can’t help feeling that these days, it’s too often the be-all and end-all (see, didn't take me long to start sounding like my dad!). Postgate concentrated on story and mood, and was completely unafraid to let his imagination roam freely and trust young viewers to keep up. Noggin The Nog, for example, definitely had a sinister side to it, while Bagpuss used to throw bits of folk songs into the very strange stories. Ivor The Engine would even stray into Dylan Thomas territory.
One of the reasons Postgate is being remembered so fondly, I think, is the realisation that programmes of that sort just wouldn’t get made today, even at the BBC. Not that there’s not good kids’ TV programmes around, just that (and this is probably true of adult TV too) the viewers are rarely trusted the same way these days.
Never mind what the actual animation was like – in those days long before Pixar, we didn’t care anyway, and I can’t help feeling that these days, it’s too often the be-all and end-all (see, didn't take me long to start sounding like my dad!). Postgate concentrated on story and mood, and was completely unafraid to let his imagination roam freely and trust young viewers to keep up. Noggin The Nog, for example, definitely had a sinister side to it, while Bagpuss used to throw bits of folk songs into the very strange stories. Ivor The Engine would even stray into Dylan Thomas territory.
One of the reasons Postgate is being remembered so fondly, I think, is the realisation that programmes of that sort just wouldn’t get made today, even at the BBC. Not that there’s not good kids’ TV programmes around, just that (and this is probably true of adult TV too) the viewers are rarely trusted the same way these days.
Saturday, 6 December 2008
John Clare
If you didn't tune in to Radio 3 on Tuesday night to listen to The Essay, in which Alison Brackenbury talked about John Clare's influence on her work, you still have four days left to catch it here.
It was excellent, I thought, and I especially enjoyed hearing the poem The Cuckoo. And it all set me thinking about Clare. He's very difficult to get away from here, around Peterborough where I work, because his name gets attached to all sorts of public buildings, streets and even businesses. And it was when I lived over here in the late 90s that I first really got into his poetry, out of curiosity more than anything, I think. I lived in Bourne, and used to get the bus to and from work, and it wound its way past Helpston, where he was born and raised, and through Northborough, to which he was moved, unhappily, later in his life.
While both villages have so far resisted being swallowed up by the city, the countryside is pretty unrecognisable from the one Clare wrote about, intensive agriculture having put paid to it. Emmonsails (now Ailsworth) Heath, for example, subject of one of my favourite Clare poems, is now pretty much farmland, and elsewhere roads and gravel pits have carved up the landscape.
And that, I suppose, is why Clare has enjoyed a resurgence of popularity, and a critical reappraisal. It's not merely nostalgia for an imagined England of days gone by - it's the fact that in his exact and first-hand writing about the natural world, he was making the now extremely relevant point (without ever trying to hammer home 'a message') that no one part of it exists in isolation.
Finally, I just found this article on Clare, particularly interesting for what it says about how well read he was.
It was excellent, I thought, and I especially enjoyed hearing the poem The Cuckoo. And it all set me thinking about Clare. He's very difficult to get away from here, around Peterborough where I work, because his name gets attached to all sorts of public buildings, streets and even businesses. And it was when I lived over here in the late 90s that I first really got into his poetry, out of curiosity more than anything, I think. I lived in Bourne, and used to get the bus to and from work, and it wound its way past Helpston, where he was born and raised, and through Northborough, to which he was moved, unhappily, later in his life.
While both villages have so far resisted being swallowed up by the city, the countryside is pretty unrecognisable from the one Clare wrote about, intensive agriculture having put paid to it. Emmonsails (now Ailsworth) Heath, for example, subject of one of my favourite Clare poems, is now pretty much farmland, and elsewhere roads and gravel pits have carved up the landscape.
And that, I suppose, is why Clare has enjoyed a resurgence of popularity, and a critical reappraisal. It's not merely nostalgia for an imagined England of days gone by - it's the fact that in his exact and first-hand writing about the natural world, he was making the now extremely relevant point (without ever trying to hammer home 'a message') that no one part of it exists in isolation.
Finally, I just found this article on Clare, particularly interesting for what it says about how well read he was.
Friday, 5 December 2008
HappenStance blog
To my great shame, I've only just noticed that HappenStance now has a blog. Have a browse and learn a bit more about the world of poetry chapbook publishing.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
Godiva rides again
Last night, I went to Coventry's Herbert Art Gallery and Museum for the launch of Lady Godiva & Me, Liam Guilar's new chapbook from Nine Arches Press. In fact, chapbook is selling it short - it's 50 pages of poetry that uses all sorts of voicves, including the iconic figure of Godiva, to explore the history of Coventry (Liam's home city, although he now lives in Australia). He read very well, confirming the point he made himself, that a genuine sequence (and this is a very well constructed one) allows you to try things that just aren't possible in a collection of more or less standalone poems.
Despite arriving late because of the traffic (I had 25 miles to travel, Liam had to come from Queensland, guess who was there first) I read a few poems myself as the warm-up. They were:
Troy Town
Knots
To A Flame
Poem
Show, Don't Tell
Afterwards we adjourned to the cafe bar next door, and I chatted with Liam, Matt Nunn and Jane Commane of Nine Arches, and some of the other Coventry regulars. They included Barry Patterson, who's not only a fellow birder but also a fellow Julian Cope enthusiast! I swapped books with him - his, Nature Mystic, is from Heaventree. I only had time to read Brandon Marsh Winter Light last night, and it's excellent.
Oh, and I picked up a copy of Issue 2 of Under The Radar (to be launched next Thursday at a reading at Friends Meeting House, Leicester). It contains poems by the likes of Mario Petrucci, David Hart, Jane Commane and myself (A Fixer-Upper and St Beuno Meets The English), and reviews including Jacqui Rowe on Marilyn Ricci's Rebuilding A Number 39 and Simon Turner on Geoffrey Holloway's Collected Poems (and any review which mentions JA Baker's The Peregrine, as this does, is OK by me. There's a short story competition too, so buy a copy.
Despite arriving late because of the traffic (I had 25 miles to travel, Liam had to come from Queensland, guess who was there first) I read a few poems myself as the warm-up. They were:
Troy Town
Knots
To A Flame
Poem
Show, Don't Tell
Afterwards we adjourned to the cafe bar next door, and I chatted with Liam, Matt Nunn and Jane Commane of Nine Arches, and some of the other Coventry regulars. They included Barry Patterson, who's not only a fellow birder but also a fellow Julian Cope enthusiast! I swapped books with him - his, Nature Mystic, is from Heaventree. I only had time to read Brandon Marsh Winter Light last night, and it's excellent.
Oh, and I picked up a copy of Issue 2 of Under The Radar (to be launched next Thursday at a reading at Friends Meeting House, Leicester). It contains poems by the likes of Mario Petrucci, David Hart, Jane Commane and myself (A Fixer-Upper and St Beuno Meets The English), and reviews including Jacqui Rowe on Marilyn Ricci's Rebuilding A Number 39 and Simon Turner on Geoffrey Holloway's Collected Poems (and any review which mentions JA Baker's The Peregrine, as this does, is OK by me. There's a short story competition too, so buy a copy.
Thursday, 27 November 2008
Brackenbury on Clare
Alison Brackenbury tells me that she has a short talk on John Clare being broadcast on Radio 3 next Tuesday (December 2), at 11pm. A bit late, but I like a bit of radio last thing at night. Far better that than in the day, too, when it's difficult to listen.
The talk contains extracts from a poem called The Cuckoo, and the great storm scene from The Shepherd’s Calendar.
The programme will also be available (during the rest of the week) on Listen Again, at:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/bbc_radio_three
(Look under E for The Essay).
The other Essays during the week also sound excellent. They are:
Monday, 1st December: Michael Symmons Roberts on David Jones.
Wednesday, 3rd December: W N Herbert on Edwin Morgan (including a recording of Morgan performing his Loch Ness Monster poem).
Thursday, 4th December: Menna Elfyn on T Gwynn Jones.
Friday, 5th December: Fred D’Aguiar on Wilson Harris.
Enjoy!
The talk contains extracts from a poem called The Cuckoo, and the great storm scene from The Shepherd’s Calendar.
The programme will also be available (during the rest of the week) on Listen Again, at:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplay
(Look under E for The Essay).
The other Essays during the week also sound excellent. They are:
Monday, 1st December: Michael Symmons Roberts on David Jones.
Wednesday, 3rd December: W N Herbert on Edwin Morgan (including a recording of Morgan performing his Loch Ness Monster poem).
Thursday, 4th December: Menna Elfyn on T Gwynn Jones.
Friday, 5th December: Fred D’Aguiar on Wilson Harris.
Enjoy!
The next laureate
As I was driving home last night, there was an item on the Radio 5 news about Poet Laureate Andrew Motion, specifically the fact that he would like to see the public have a say in who succeeds him in the post next year.
They had Ian McMillan on to talk about what the successful candidate would need, and he not unreasonably identified a combination of a popular touch and the ability to write poetry that also works on a number of other levels. He also said he'd like to see the term reduced to five years, and I'd agree - that seems a good compromise between the current 10 and the much shorter terms they have in the USA.
They didn't (and I was surprised at this), name any names in terms of speculating who the leading candidates would be. Me? I wouldn't be unhappy to see McMillan himself get the post, although I think there are plenty of good candidates, and as he pointed out, it would be good to see the job go to a woman for a complete change of perspective (amazing, really, that it hasn't happened before, especially given that the PLs have been writing for female monarchs for large parts of the last 200 years).
They had Ian McMillan on to talk about what the successful candidate would need, and he not unreasonably identified a combination of a popular touch and the ability to write poetry that also works on a number of other levels. He also said he'd like to see the term reduced to five years, and I'd agree - that seems a good compromise between the current 10 and the much shorter terms they have in the USA.
They didn't (and I was surprised at this), name any names in terms of speculating who the leading candidates would be. Me? I wouldn't be unhappy to see McMillan himself get the post, although I think there are plenty of good candidates, and as he pointed out, it would be good to see the job go to a woman for a complete change of perspective (amazing, really, that it hasn't happened before, especially given that the PLs have been writing for female monarchs for large parts of the last 200 years).
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
The LBJ
I've just received Issue 1 of The LBJ. The initials, as all you birders out there will know, stands for Little Brown Job (not Lyndon B Johnson), and is sometimes rather dismissively applied to all those less colourful small birds such as sparrows, many finches and buntings and, in Europe at least, most warblers.Here, though, it also stands for Literary Bird Journal, and is subtitled Avian Life, Literary Arts. It's a handy notebook size, but the full colour picture of the Ovenbird on the cover serves notice that it isn't going to do things by halves. Alongside poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction and literary journalism, all of an ornothological bent, it also contains a number of full-colour plates.
I'll post a full review when I've had chance to read it properly, but it's a fine publication, from the Department of English at the University of Nevada, Reno, and a nice addition to the magazine world for those of us (and there are many) who like to mix our birding and literature.
It costs $9 per issue, and you can find out more about subscribing by logging on here.
Englyns
Also while in Wales, I bought a couple of books of poetry. One was Chase Twichell's Perdido, which I haven't started yet, and the other was Lynette Roberts' Collected Poems, which I've barely put down since.
Roberts is a very interesting figure. She was undoubtedly a modernist, but a highly idiosyncratic one (not surprisingly given her background, born in Argentina to Australian parents of Welsh descent), and much of her work wasn't widely available until quite recently.
She touches on one of my recurring poetic obsessions - englyns. These are a Welsh form of verse, involving very strict rules, but although I can think of quite a few poets who have had a go at them (Gillian Clarke, Richard Caddel, Robert Graves, for starters), I think they often tend to be rather anglicised versions, without adhering strictly to the cynghanned pattern. I might be doing those poets a disservice, though, and must go back to their books to check.
Anyway, I even included a (again very anglicised) version of one in my own book, and I often mess about with them, even if it's just to get me writing. They're satisfyingly compact and punchy, I think.
Roberts is a very interesting figure. She was undoubtedly a modernist, but a highly idiosyncratic one (not surprisingly given her background, born in Argentina to Australian parents of Welsh descent), and much of her work wasn't widely available until quite recently.
She touches on one of my recurring poetic obsessions - englyns. These are a Welsh form of verse, involving very strict rules, but although I can think of quite a few poets who have had a go at them (Gillian Clarke, Richard Caddel, Robert Graves, for starters), I think they often tend to be rather anglicised versions, without adhering strictly to the cynghanned pattern. I might be doing those poets a disservice, though, and must go back to their books to check.
Anyway, I even included a (again very anglicised) version of one in my own book, and I often mess about with them, even if it's just to get me writing. They're satisfyingly compact and punchy, I think.
Tuesday, 25 November 2008
Ramblings
I was in South Wales at the weekend, and bought a copy of Saturday's Western Mail. There was a (mostly positive) review of Patrick Jones' book darkness is where the stars are, just out from Cinnamon, the launch of which in Cardiff, you'll remember, provoked all sorts of controversy.
Now while I haven't changed my view that Waterstones acted pretty badly in the whole affair, I can't say I'm grabbed by what I've read of the poetry. But the reviewer pointed out that in a recent online search for the top 100 Welsh heroes, Jones made it to No.32, and was top poet behind RS Thomas, Dylan Thomas and Dafydd ap Gwilym, which suggests that his poetry does engage with a wider public than usual.
So, is it a bit churlish of us as poets to complain that too few of our kind tackle real issues and attempt to get the general public interested in poetry, and then complain again when a poet does exactly that, just because the poetry isn't to our taste? No, it's perfectly reasonable, I think, but I can't help thinking Patrick Jones could teach most of us something about marketing.
On the opposite page, there's a column called The Insider by Peter Finch, chief executive of Academi, the literature promotion agency for Wales. His occupation of that role might be seen as giving the lie to the claim that the avant-garde are excluded from all positions of power in the literati, given that he has been, at times, as 'out there' as any British poet. But maybe he's just an exception - whatever, it's a fine column, looking at a number of writers who are turning out fine work in their later years. Among them are Meic Stephens and Herbert Williams. The latter's Come Out Wherever You Are, about a mass German POW breakout from Island Farm, Bridgend, has been reissued. I remember reading it as a kid at my grandparents' house, almost within sight of the abandoned camp, and my mother telling me about seeing General Von Runstedt being marched from Bridgend station to the camp when she was a child. I must get hold of the book again.
Now while I haven't changed my view that Waterstones acted pretty badly in the whole affair, I can't say I'm grabbed by what I've read of the poetry. But the reviewer pointed out that in a recent online search for the top 100 Welsh heroes, Jones made it to No.32, and was top poet behind RS Thomas, Dylan Thomas and Dafydd ap Gwilym, which suggests that his poetry does engage with a wider public than usual.
So, is it a bit churlish of us as poets to complain that too few of our kind tackle real issues and attempt to get the general public interested in poetry, and then complain again when a poet does exactly that, just because the poetry isn't to our taste? No, it's perfectly reasonable, I think, but I can't help thinking Patrick Jones could teach most of us something about marketing.
On the opposite page, there's a column called The Insider by Peter Finch, chief executive of Academi, the literature promotion agency for Wales. His occupation of that role might be seen as giving the lie to the claim that the avant-garde are excluded from all positions of power in the literati, given that he has been, at times, as 'out there' as any British poet. But maybe he's just an exception - whatever, it's a fine column, looking at a number of writers who are turning out fine work in their later years. Among them are Meic Stephens and Herbert Williams. The latter's Come Out Wherever You Are, about a mass German POW breakout from Island Farm, Bridgend, has been reissued. I remember reading it as a kid at my grandparents' house, almost within sight of the abandoned camp, and my mother telling me about seeing General Von Runstedt being marched from Bridgend station to the camp when she was a child. I must get hold of the book again.
Lady Godiva & Me
Next Wednesday, December 3rd, Liam Guilar's new Nine Arches pamphlet Lady Godiva & Me is being launched with a reading at The Herbert Art Gallery and Museum, Jordan Well, Coventry, at 7pm.
You might already have seen some of the poems through the e-mail tasters Nine Arches have sent out - if not, you've missed out, because they've been excellent, going way beyond simply retelling the story of Coventry's most famous daughter. Instead, a whole cast of voices from the city are brought to life by Liam, who's Coventry-born, but now lives in Australia.
The support will come from yours truly - I'll be reading from Troy Town and some newer poems.
You might already have seen some of the poems through the e-mail tasters Nine Arches have sent out - if not, you've missed out, because they've been excellent, going way beyond simply retelling the story of Coventry's most famous daughter. Instead, a whole cast of voices from the city are brought to life by Liam, who's Coventry-born, but now lives in Australia.
The support will come from yours truly - I'll be reading from Troy Town and some newer poems.
Monday, 24 November 2008
Two new links
Scottish poet Eleanor Livingstone has a new website here (and about time too!). There's poetry, links, and even YouTube footage of Eleanor reading, so take the time to have a browse. Eleanor's excellent HappenStance pamphlet, The Last King Of Fife, was launched the same night as mine, and I also read with her last year, and she's always good to hear. Her poems are a lot steelier than they sometimes appear at first glance, too - they always repay a bit of close attention.
I also came across this superb blog, Fades In Slowly, while browsing earlier. It contains all manner of things related to John Peel, so it's essential for anyone who, at this time of year, sets about compiling their own Festive 50.
I also came across this superb blog, Fades In Slowly, while browsing earlier. It contains all manner of things related to John Peel, so it's essential for anyone who, at this time of year, sets about compiling their own Festive 50.
Friday, 21 November 2008
Shindig! in Leicester
There's live poetry and an open mic at the launch of Issue 2 of Under The Radar magazine, at
Friends Meeting House, Queen’s Road, Leicester, at 7.30pm on Thursday, December 11th.
Readers include:
Jane Holland – editor of Horizon Review, reading from her latest collection Camper Van Blues; Matt Nunn – Birmingham’s finest poetic export, reading from his forthcoming collection, Sounds in the Grass; Warwickshire-based poet Jane Commane reading a selection of her recent work; and yours truly, reading from Troy Town and some newer poems.
It's free, and open mic slots are available - turn up early to register for a place.
More information at www.ninearchespress.com
Friends Meeting House, Queen’s Road, Leicester, at 7.30pm on Thursday, December 11th.
Readers include:
Jane Holland – editor of Horizon Review, reading from her latest collection Camper Van Blues; Matt Nunn – Birmingham’s finest poetic export, reading from his forthcoming collection, Sounds in the Grass; Warwickshire-based poet Jane Commane reading a selection of her recent work; and yours truly, reading from Troy Town and some newer poems.
It's free, and open mic slots are available - turn up early to register for a place.
More information at www.ninearchespress.com
Thursday, 20 November 2008
Quiet here, isn't it?
I haven't posted much recently, having been tied up with work and writing, and that's not about to change for a few days. Not many out of the ordinary birds about (a few White-fronted Geese, and a Marsh Harrier over at Willington Gravel Pits), although I've been happy enough watching some good-sized flocks of Redwings and Fieldfares, and a few local Stonechats.
Last night, I watched Channel 4's much touted new drama series The Devil's Whore, being a bit of a sucker for all things 1640s. I have to say, I rather liked it - they resisted the temptation to go sex it up along the lines of The Tudors, and they seemed to get the tone of the dialogue about right. Not that they went for wholly authentic 17th century language, but at least they avoided any jarringly modern-sounding passages. Promising - I'll be interested to see how it develops.
Last night, I watched Channel 4's much touted new drama series The Devil's Whore, being a bit of a sucker for all things 1640s. I have to say, I rather liked it - they resisted the temptation to go sex it up along the lines of The Tudors, and they seemed to get the tone of the dialogue about right. Not that they went for wholly authentic 17th century language, but at least they avoided any jarringly modern-sounding passages. Promising - I'll be interested to see how it develops.
Thursday, 13 November 2008
Free speech?
This from the Western Mail - had it been a little independent bookshop in a small town somewhere, I could understand how they might be bullied into submission, but Waterstones' main Cardiff branch? I think they're creating a pretty bad precedent here.
Monday, 10 November 2008
Overheard
I was in London at the weekend, and among other things went along to the Southbank Centre to record a reading of one of my poems, Treaty House, that appeared in Brittle Star No19. As well as the texts of magazines appearing at the Poetry Library’s Poetry Magazines site, some are to feature sound files too.
Elsewhere I bought a few books, including John Preston’s The Dig, having just popped into the British Museum and been reminded of it by the Sutton Hoo collection and the Franks Casket. It’s a novel about the excavation of Sutton Hoo, in 1939 – I’m looking forward to it.
In the little branch of Foyles nearby, I was browsing in the poetry section and couldn’t help but overhear a young woman explaining to her partner exactly who Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were. She reached the tragic end of the story, saying “and she killed herself by putting her head in the oven”.
There was a long pause, and then the young man asked, in perfect seriousness: “Was it a gas oven?” Every head within earshot turned their way, with faces wearing expressions that were a mixture of horror and disbelief.
Elsewhere I bought a few books, including John Preston’s The Dig, having just popped into the British Museum and been reminded of it by the Sutton Hoo collection and the Franks Casket. It’s a novel about the excavation of Sutton Hoo, in 1939 – I’m looking forward to it.
In the little branch of Foyles nearby, I was browsing in the poetry section and couldn’t help but overhear a young woman explaining to her partner exactly who Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were. She reached the tragic end of the story, saying “and she killed herself by putting her head in the oven”.
There was a long pause, and then the young man asked, in perfect seriousness: “Was it a gas oven?” Every head within earshot turned their way, with faces wearing expressions that were a mixture of horror and disbelief.
Thursday, 6 November 2008
Magma's new look
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.
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.
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