The King In Yellow

I'd read a lot of Twitter and Facebook posts praising True Detective to the heavens, so I recorded the first episode when it made its UK debut last weekend, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

It's a slow-burner, and inevitably there's a lot of scene-setting, but there was a real sense of menace and impending doom all the way through, so it didn't really surprise me to read this article this morning, about the links between the series and Robert W Chambers' classic 1895 collection of short stories. It's a long time since I read it, but I'll have to get hold of a copy - interesting to see that new electronic versions have already been rushed out in response to the publicity through the show.

I'm going to be interested to see how far down the Lovecraftian route True Detective goes - my guess is that it'll steer clear of the explicitly supernatural, and instead explore the 'cosmic horror' that HPL was so fond of - the Matthew McConaughey character already has the look and sound of one of his protagonists, a man who'd probably prefer not to piece together the sum of his knowledge.

A poetry blog tour

The excellent Roy Marshall invited me to take part in this tour of poetry blogs. How does it work? Well, I answer four standard questions about my own work, then link to the blogs of three more poets, who will answer the same questions over the next few weeks.

Now, you'll notice that there are just two links posted so far - to Gill McEvoy and Tim Love. That's because most of the poets I know had already been approached. If you'd like to take part, then, drop me a line, and I'll add your link. Anyway, here goes...

What am I working on?
I've been working with a photographer, Phil Harris, on a project looking at landscape and particularly the landscape of John Clare's poetry, although it's started to take us down some quite different routes, too. It's been a really exciting and challenging way of working - neither of us wants to end up effectively illustrating each other's work, so we've just been figuring stuff out as we go along.

I've also got a long-standing sequence that I've been working on, and that I'm thinking of polishing up and sending out to pamphlet publishers some time this year.

Alongside both of those I've been writing some very occasional occasional poems, but it's pretty slow going (for reasons that will become clear later in this post).

Finally, I'm planning a prose project - if it gets approved, it would certainly feed into my poetry, I think, so I'm looking forward to working on it.

How does my work differ from others in the genre?
Hmmm. Difficult, and probably not really for me to say. I'm always slightly conscious that, not having done an English or Creative Writing degree, my reading of poetry has been a bit haphazard (although voracious), so maybe that shows up in my own work, but I'm not sure. I do tend to write a lot of nature poems, too, and for the most part I tend to dislike enlisting birds or animals or whatever for obvious symbolic or metaphorical effect, but having said that my latest book, The Elephant Tests, contains several very obviously symbolic elephants (I know next to nothing about the actual animals).

Why do I write what I write?
Well, I suppose I'd say because I have to, although that can end up sounding a bit pretentious. I do get physically uneasy when I have something I want to write but work or whatever else is getting in the way.

As regards subject matter it does tend, for the most part, to be rooted in the subject areas I know most about, although I'd also say that by doing so I find out more about them. I'm interested in the potential of all the arts to change attitudes about environmental issues (this is something that New Networks for Nature has pioneered), so that has been increasingly important in driving my work, I think, but it is very much about the poetry first and foremost - I don't like the idea of browbeating readers at all.

How does your writing process work?
It's changed quite a bit over the years, and continues to change. I make notes for poems all the time, and although I like a Moleskine as much as the next person, I scribble on any scrap of paper to hand. More and more I also make notes on my phone or iPad. More and more, too, I remind myself to write something, anything, including blog posts, diary entries, etc., rather than waiting around for inspiration. I mine a lot of my other writing for poetry 'prompts' and ideas.

Having done that, I usually write the first full draft by hand, then later put it on my PC. I've been trying to take far longer over revising poems, giving myself a set period to let them 'mature', so I'll then go back to a piece a few times over several months. I generally have quite a few poems on the go at once, so I don't worry too much if one gets abandoned for a lengthy period - last week, I went back to a piece that had sat untouched for four years, and reworked and 'finished' it within 10 minutes. I think the time away just made its flaws so obvious, as well as the potential solutions.

In physical terms, while I make notes all the time, I tend to do all the hard work in the evenings and at night. I'm not sure why, but I struggle to write poetry much before 6pm. I can't listen to music while I write, and I stay away from Twitter and Facebook, but I sometimes quite like having something undemanding on the TV or radio, such as cricket or snooker, that I can dip in and out of.

The blogging tour continues...
For more answers to these questions, see:
Gill McEvoy, http://redbotinki.blogspot.co.uk/
Tim Love, http://litrefs.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/a-poetry-blog-tour.html

Poetry Alight

I've been terrible at updating this blog recently, but intend to do much better, starting with last night's Poetry Alight reading at Lichfield.

In the new venue of the King's Head, the upstairs room is just about spot-on for a night of this type - large enough that you're not all piled in on top of each other, even with an excellent turn-out like last night's, but compact enough that you can hear the poets read without any trouble.

Gary Longden hosts it superbly, and I liked the format of open mic slots to begin and end the evening, as well as between the featured guests in the middle. Importantly, too, there was time to talk. Feeling part of a poetry community is a more important aspect of events like this than it's sometimes given credit for, but here we all went home having had the chance to make new friends and catch up with old ones.

I didn't make notes, so I'm afraid I haven't got the names of most of the open mic readers, but a high standard was maintained throughout, not just by the familiar faces such as Tom Wyre and Malcolm Dewhirst.

Michelle Crosbie's feature set was excellent. She read entirely from memory, and even sang her last piece acapella, and I'd like to hear more of her work, as well as to see it on paper. She used rhyme skilfully, I thought (as did many of the open mic-ers) - not something that's easy to do, and something that an audience immediately picks up on if it's not done well.

I read entirely from The Elephant Tests, and Jo Bell helped me out on Ravens, Newborough Warren, reading the second voice. It was a pleasure to read for such an appreciative audience, and there was lots of good feedback later on (plus plenty of books sold).

Jo's own set was the highlight of the evening, taking in poems from the excellent Navigation (available again now), as well as newer material. She will, I hope, have a new book coming out before too long, burt in the meantime, take any opportunity you get to hear her read. She can flit between laugh-out-loud funny and lump-in-the-throat moving in the space of a line, and that's a rare thing indeed.

Poetry Alight, at Lichfield

Next Tuesday (February 18th), I'm reading at Poetry Alight, in Lichfield, with the wonderful Jo Bell and Michelle Crosbie. It's a well-established and popular regular poetry night, complete with plenty of open mic slots, hosted by the excellent Gary Longden. I'm looking forward to reading in the city of Dr Johnson very much.

Just a word of warning - in case you haven't already noticed from following that link, it's at a new venue, the King's Head, 21 Bird Street, Lichfield, WS13 6PW. Hot food is available (always a bonus).

If you'd like to sign up for an open mic slot, email Lichfield.Poets@hotmail.co.uk as soon as possible, as they tend to get snapped up pretty quickly.

Writing In The Dark, by Richard Caddel

This arrived this morning - Alan Baker posted a link about it on Facebook last week, and it sounded right up my street. I enjoyed Caddel's Magpie Words - a selected poems - a few years back, but this had passed me by until now. I know I probably shouldn't be so bothered by the physical quality of books, too, but this is a very handsomely produced volume from West House Books, and that's always a good start. I suspect I'll be writing more about it over the next few weeks - can't wait to start reading it.

European Hoatzins?

The Hoatzin, found in the Amazon and Orinoco rainforests of South America, is one of the world's more bizarre creatures, a bird with the digestive system of a cow. This gives it a rather unpleasant smell - the locals where I saw them, in Ecuador, called them 'stinking turkeys'. The youngsters also have claws halfway along their wings, adding to their distinctly prehistoric appearance. Anyway, an interesting article here suggests that they may originally have come from Europe.

Frances Corkey Thompson

A few years back, Frances Corkey Thompson brought out a superb chapbook - The Long Acre - with HappenStance Press. Among other highlights, it contained one of my favourite bird poems, Stonechat, a piece that manages to pack a huge amount into a few brief lines.

She now has a website/blog here, at which you can find out more about her writing, as well as contact her for feedback on your own writing.

New look for Nine Arches

Nine Arches Press has a new-look website, which is the perfect excuse to remind you that you can buy my latest collection, The Elephant Tests, here.

There's also a wealth of other individual poetry collections, the magazine Under The Radar, short story collections, and the anthology Maps and Legends, which is a great sampler of the best of Nine Arches' poetry output in the last five years. Have a browse, and I hope you'll find something there to ancourage you to dip your hand in your pocket.

Don't get me wrong

Several initially unconnected trains of thought have come together this week, and now I'm going to subject you to my efforts to string them together.

I tend to like poetry that leaves itself open to the reader's own imagination*. I don't mean deliberately ambiguous or obscure, or so vague as to defy any attempt to impose meaning, but poetry that doesn't set out to shepherd the reader down one particular route. It isn't the old mainstream/alternative divide, I don't think, because looking down my bookshelves I can find good examples of this in both camps.

So, I also like it when, in a review, say, my own poetry gets read in a way that hadn't occurred to me, or that at least hadn't been the initial driving force behind the poem. This happened recently with Roy Marshall's review of The Elephant Tests in Hinterland - his reading of a couple of the poems makes more sense, now, than what I had assumed would be the 'obvious' reading.

I was thinking about this at Monday's Shindig, and afterwards. I enjoy hearing poetry read or recited a lot (at least, when it's being read by the poets themselves), but do I like to be able to read the poems later too, if at all possible, because there are always going to be nuances that you miss (my hearing isn't the greatest, either, which doesn't help).

Then yesterday, I started thinking about pop songs that, even after years, continue to be misinterpreted, no matter how often journalists or their writers point out the 'real' meaning. I don't mean misheard lyrics, but things like Ronald Reagan's attempt to co-opt Springsteen's Born In The USA as a patriotic flag-waver, rather than the outburst of disappointment and disgust that it is, or the way that Every Breath You Take is trotted out as the sort of romantic 'our tune' that gets played at weddings, rather than the stalker-ish creepfest that it is. In both those cases, and several more, the song's huge commercial popularity probably depended to a great deal on being misunderstood, although neither make any particular effort to hide their true 'meaning'.

So I started wondering a couple of things.
1 Whether there are any poems that have become popular in a similar way (in as much as poems ever become popular these days)?
2 Why there's the difference between poets and songwriters in this respect. The former generally say they want their work to remain open to the reader's interpretation, while the latter are more prone to pointing out the real 'meaning', yet the latter seem to get misinterpreted more often (partly, of course, because most of us don't sit down to read song lyrics very often).

* There are exceptions. Some of my favourite RS Thomas poems (and there are few poets I like better) seem to me to do an awful lot of telling, rather than showing. By rights, I oughtn't to like them, but I do.

Leicester Shindig, 20.01.14

Last night's Shindig at The Western was a slightly unusual one, from my point of view, in that the featured poets were, largely, new to me, although I've always enjoyed what I've read from Cathy Grindrod, and Lindsay Waller-Wilkinson's open mic spots at previous Shindigs have always been worth hearing.

I'll certainly seek out more from both after last night's readings. Both were quietly assured and nicely paced, no mean feat when, during Lindsay's set, there were a certain amount of slightly comic interruptions.

After the break, Charlie Jordan was perhaps more obviously polished in her presentation, but none the worse for that, while Joe Coghlan built momentum almost hypnotically from a slightly nervous start. He recited two long poems, and it would be interesting to hear and read a greater variety of his work, but this was a fine introduction to a writer and performer I suspect we'll hear a lot more from.

The open mic spots were of their usual high quality. Rebecca Bird's poem was a highlight for me, as was Caroline Cook's, and Martin Malone read what might be the best football poem I've ever heard, partly because, of course, it was far more than a football poem.

Poets On Fire - a new look

Over the past six months or so, I found less and less time to update Poets On Fire, so late last year I looked for someone to give the blog a good home.

That someone is Carl Griffin, and you'll see that he's already beginning to take the site in a new direction. There'll still be news on forthcoming live poetry events, but he's also going to be using it to help build a network of poets, SPIN, offering feedback and support for writers. It's a great idea, and I wish him every success.

The Anvil's Prayer, by James W Wood

Ward Wood Publishing, 2013, £8.99
Surprise in poetry, most readers would probably say, can only be a good thing. The surprise of new forms, of words used to create new sounds, new music, or the surprise of original and wholly distinctive subject matter.
There's another sort though, and that's the surprise achieved by all really good poetry, of making you feel that something's been said the only possible way it could be said. The surprise of an effect that's both emotional and intellectual, but that creeps up on you unannounced.
That's how James Wood's poetry works. His technical skill and ear for language are outstanding, but what repeatedly catches you off-guard in this memorable debut collection is the emotional heft that he asks them to carry.
I found that all the more impressive given that I'd seen the manuscript of the book well before publication, and have read and re-read the two chapbooks - The Theory of Everything (HappenStance, 2006) and Inextinguishable (Knucker Press, 2008) - that contribute to its contents.
(I should add, at this point, that another more surprise occurs to me, namely that it took this long for a publisher to offer a full collection).
The book is split into three sections, Hymn, Elegy, and Exaltation, but while that broadly deals with themes of praise, grief and mourning, and celebration, one of its strengths, I think, is that all those elements are present throughout.

Take the wonderful The Craws, from the middle section:

                                                     You were
no prizewinner, sportsman, or great thinker,


just a man like any other, and one
whose life asks us for little grieving.

It's bracingly clear-eyed and honest, and it manages to perfectly balance mourning with recollection of a life well-lived. There's no attempt by the poet to distance himself from difficult or uncomfortable subject matter - the understated precision of the language is trusted throughout to steer clear of the pitfall of sentimentality.
Catherine Wheel, dealing with a suicide, is another good example, asking its questions gracefully and without a hint of melodrama or straining for easy emotional effect.

                                           you were
a Catherine Wheel blazing brilliantly

in a ploughed field at midsummer, a spark
that might have cloaked us all in fire
if only we could have seen it.

We're talking about restraint, here (sometimes abetted by Wood's skilful use of the constraints of form), rather than the sort of buttoned-down politeness of which much mainstream British poetry is often accused. When Wood wants to, he can really put the spurs to the language and positively gallop across the page. A poem like The Theory Of Everything is exhilarating for the way it pulls together a whirlwind of diverse ideas and images to celebrate the sheer variousness of the world (no, the universe), while there's a similar joy in both language and life itself to be found in Fantaisie De Fruits and Buccaneers.
Wood's control of pacing is evident not just in individual poems, but in the structure of the collection, closing with the superb An Fraoch Mor and Departures, both perfectly controlled in their reflectiveness after some more free-ranging excursions just before. The latter is again clear-eyed, refusing to look for excuses or distractions, closing with "So set sail for life, / keep steel in your eyes. Hold hard to your course / and let the storm clouds rise."
The love poems are highlights too, and I'll close by pointing out one further surprise that involves them. I suspect many poets would have kept the opening piece here, The Same Page, towards the end of the book, a sort of pay-off after the difficult journeys that have gone before, what with its potential for a happy ending of sorts. Here, though, it's an interrogation of both the nature of love and of poetry, and the hold it takes on you isn't released until the end of this very fine book.

On the money

Northern Irish poet Sinead Morrissey won the TS Eliot Prize on Monday night, for her collection Parallax. I must say I'd thought Michael Symmons Roberts the likely winner, so this came as something of a surprise, but it's a pleasant one.

I haven't read the book, but I've encountered quite a lot of Morrissey's poetry in the past and have enjoyed it. It's hard to make a real judgement on what should have won, as of the 10 contenders, I've only read three so far (Michael Symmons Roberts, Dannie Abse and Helen Mort). I think either of those last two would have been a worthy winner, although I suspect it might have been seen as a sort of lifetime achievement award if it had gone to Abse.

But anyway, congratulations to Sinead Morrissey - I'll look forward to reading Parallax.

The Elephant Tests reviewed at the Magma blog

There's a lovely review of The Elephant Tests by Katherine Stansfield over at the Magma blog. To be honest, I'm always delighted to get any kind of review, what with all publicity being good publicity and so on, but it's even better when the reviewer makes you think about your own work in a different way, and this one does exactly that (as Roy Marshall's in Hinterland did).

As I mentioned then, you can buy the collection through Nine Arches and Inpress by clicking here.

All change at Sphinx

Sphinx, Happenstance Press's online poetry pamphlet 'zine, has got a new look, and a new purpose in life, too, by the looks of it.

The pamphlet reviews have gone sadly, although there are certainly more journals and magazines reviewing them now than when Sphinx started, something for which it can claim some of the credit. It's now blossoming into a much more wide-ranging poetry pamphlet mag, including features, interviews, news and resources for poets and publishers alike. I recommend it highly.

Reviewed at Hinterland

Roy Marshall's very kind (and very full) review of The Elephant Tests has appeared at Hinterland - I'm very grateful to them and Roy for taking such care and time over the book. If it piques your interest in the collection, there's more about it, including how to buy it, here.

While you're there, take a look at some of the other recent posts, as it's a journal that updates regularly and with a great deal of variety.

Here we go again...

Two days in and not a single New Year's resolution has fallen by the wayside, mainly because I never got round to making any. 2013 was so hectic (largely in a good way, I should add) that it was a relief to stumble drowsily over the line at the end.

I don't really go in for resolutions, anyway, but I do have a few plans for my writing that I intend to put into motion, starting this weekend. If you want to get energised and inspired about writing yourself, in the company of a lot of fine writers, then Jo Bell's new blog 52 is the place to be, with weekly exercises and prompts and an aim of producing a poem every week.

End of year lists

I'd like to beg forgiveness for a little bit of own-trumpet-blowing now, as Rob Mackenzie has selected The Elephant Tests as one of his favourite books of 2013, over at his excellent blog, Surroundings.

It's an intriguing list all-round. I'd agree with pretty much everything Rob says about the Luke Kennard and Ahren Warner collections. The latter, I know, seems to have divided opinions pretty sharply, but as Rob says, the sheer ambition and individuality at the very least mean that it forces you to have an opinion about it.

Andy Philip's collection is awaiting me at home, and I look forward to reading it over the holiday. He set himself a very high standard to maintain with his debut, The Ambulance Box, but the poems that I've read from the new book raise the bar even higher, if anything.

The Gillian Allnutt and Dai George books both sound right up my street, so I'll be looking to get hold of them soon, and the Robert Bly/Tomas Transtromer letters too.

Finally, Rob's own excellent second collection, The Good News, is available here, and deserves to be on more than a few end of year lists itself - it's a genuinely questioning, intellectually curious book, yet every bit as readable and playful as his debut.

All of which reminds me, I need to compile my own lists...

Some people try to pick up girls...

...and get called asshole. This never happened to Pablo Picasso.

An evening in Swindon

Swindon's one of those place-names beloved of British comedians. Not because it's intrinsically funny (like, say, Nether Wallop, or Pratt's Bottom), but because (oh, and Penistone, of course) it's somehow seen as a byword for dull, red-brick provincialism. Thinking about it, Birmingham has suffered in the same way over the years, and just as unfairly.

I've always had a very large soft spot for both, the former not least because it was the home town of XTC, a neglected national treasure if ever there was one. The proximity of White Horse Hill, one of my very favourite spots in these islands, also helps. After last night, I have another reason.

The Bluegate Poets Open Mic was held at Lower Shaw Farm, which by day is a city farm sort of affair, but which by night provides a thoroughly relaxed and creative atmosphere for reading poetry.

An open mic night stands or falls by the quality of its audience and readers, though, and Bluegate scores highly there. There was great variety and quality in the open mic readers, and if I pick out Michael Scott and Hilda Sheehan's work as highlights, that's not to say that there wasn't a lot of other really fine work. I particularly enjoyed the sky lark poem from James (sorry, didn't catch the last name), and the excellent poem on apartheid-era South Africa by another gentleman whose name I didn't catch (it was authentically angry, yet measured).

I read a couple of 10-minute sets, sold plenty of books, and had a thoroughly good time. It's always great, too, to finally come face to face with people who you 'know' through Facebook or Twitter, so meeting the likes of Stephen Payne and Hilda was lovely.

As if all that wasn't enough, there were cupcakes, and a poetry quiz to finish the night (I started promisingly, but fell away badly). I headed home up the Fosse Way with a smile on my face and a head full of poetry.

Maps and Legends launch

Last night saw the official launch of Maps and Legends, the new anthology celebrating five years of Nine Arches Press, at the Library of Birmingham.

Jo Bell compered, and her introductions were poetry in themselves. In particular, she paid fitting tribute to Nine Arches editor Jane Commane, whose tireless work has seen the press go from strength to strength. She's a very active editor, working through manuscripts with poets with great perception, supportiveness and patience, and I know I'm not the only Nine Arches poet who would say that that, above all, is what makes being published by the press such an honour.

Readings were by Angela France, Daniel Sluman, Maria Taylor, Roz Goddard, Myra Connell, Deborah Tyler-Bennett, David Morley and myself, plus Jo and Jane reading the work of David Hart and the much-missed Milorad Krystanovich respectively. It was great to hear so many fine poets together, and I think the occasion also brought out some poems that don't always get an airing otherwise. In keeping with the book's theme, I read Warning Against Using These Poems As A Map, plus Watching Woodcocks (well, once Jo had teased the appreciative audience with the clitoris reference, I felt I couldn't let them down). We adjourned to the Prince of Wales for a swift one afterwards - I only wish it had been longer.

Finally, a word about the library itself. What a glorious building! I'd seen a lot of it on the regional news, but I was still taken aback by just how big it is, and it looks fantastic, inside and out (especially at the moment, with the surrounding square and streets lit up for Christmas). It is, I suspect, the only reading I'll ever give/hear in which a huge illuminated ferris wheel is the backdrop to the readers. Birmingham has always had a lot of fine civic buildings, and this one is a more than worthy addition.

Oh, and one more thing. The anthology is priced just £10.99, and you can find full details here.

Bluegate Poets reading

Next Thursday, December 12th, I'm delighted to be the featured reader at the Bluegate Poets Open Mic night, at Lower Shaw Farm, Swindon.

It all starts at 7.30pm, and I'll be reading a couple of short sets in between the open mic slots. I'll have plenty of copies of The Elephant Tests available on the night, at a reduced price, and also a few of hydrodaktulopsychicharmonica, so come along and enjoy the readings and maybe pick up a Christmas present or two.

Maps and Legends launch

As I mentioned the other day, I'll be reading at the launch of the new Nine Arches anthology - Maps and Legends - at the Library of Birmingham next Wednesday, December 11th. Full details, including how to book tickets, can be found here.

Maps and Legends

This is out from Nine Arches Press next week, just in time for Christmas. It's an anthology celebrating five years of Nine Arches, and is edited by Jo Bell, featuring poetry from Claire Crowther, David Morley, Luke Kennard, Maria Taylor, Angela France, Daniel Sluman, Alistair Noon, Tom Chivers, David Hart, Roz Goddard, Phil Brown, Deborah Tyler-Bennett, Ruth Larbey and myself.

The anthology will be launched with a reading next Wednesday, December 11th, from 7.15-9pm, at Room 101, Library of Birmingham. Tickets are £6 / £4.

Last post from Scotland

Here's a little group of waders on the harbour wall at Hopeman - Redshanks, Turnstones and a couple of Purple Sandpipers, plus a Shag in the harbour at Burghead. And yes, you do have permission to snigger at that.