Tag: claire dyer

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City walk, a workshop, Van Halen & Jo Bell’s ‘Kith’

This is the first year in a while that I haven’t been driving up to the Southbank for the T S Eliot Prize readings this evening. I’ll look forward to reading all about it on various blogs.

I’m having a catchup day between jaunts. Last week was the first session in Katy Evans-Bush‘s fortnightly small-group poetry workshop up in Clerkenwell. I’m planning to make these Wednesdays into interesting trips to London by adding on other activities. The way the train tickets work is that you can’t leave London between 4 and 7pm on a weekday, without paying another £34. So since I can’t come straight home after the workshop, why not do something else?

detail from the Queen Victoria statue in front of Buckingham Palace, London

Last month when Nick and I were in town for a night, we spent a lovely morning just walking around and discovering so many quirky things we’d never noticed before. So after the workshop this week I decided to walk back to Victoria from Clerkenwell, taking my time, looking at statues and interesting buildings as I go and just being a pedestrian. I didn’t dawdle but I didn’t rush – along Theobalds Road towards Holborn, past the lovely gardens of Gray’s Inn, through Theatreland to Piccadilly Circus, down through leafy St James’s and Pall Mall, past the looming Duke of York’s monument and down steps to The Mall, up to Buckingham Palace and onto Victoria Station. I may have been the only pedestrian who wasn’t in a hurry. I didn’t check Google Maps or stress about best roads to take, just followed my nose. It was brilliant. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my ‘city walks’, and I plan to try different routes each time. The nice thing is that if I change my mind there’s always a bus to get part or all of the way. I know it sounds silly but I’m so used to getting around central London on public transport that it’s a real revelation to find how easy it is to walk places.

The workshop itself was really useful, so much so that the poem I’d taken for feedback was tidied up the next day and sent out. Yes! In fact I’ve gone a bit crazy since my last blog post and sent out no less than fourteen poems. You read that right! I just looked through all my current stuff and thought, this is ridiculous, what am I waiting for? So they’re out the door. Amazingly, three have already found a home: Charles Johnson at Obsessed with Pipework is so good at responding quickly, and JUMPED on my poem ‘The Metallurgy of Eddie van Halen’ (see what I did there?). In fact I think I probably wrote it with OWP in mind. Anyway, it’s given me an immediate shot of confidence for the new year. Huzzah! This is how I feel!

On Friday I was in Reading at the excellent Poets’ Cafe at the invitation of Claire Dyer, and I have to say it was brilliant. The organisation, promotion of the event, the venue, the lovely audience and everything was so good. Things like being asked ‘can I just check how you pronounce your name’ is the sign of a professional set-up. I want to mention in particular the lovely hosting by Becci Louise Fearnley. Do get along to the Poets’ Cafe in Reading if you can, it’s every month at South Street Arts Centre. Highly recommended.

In the post this week, a little treat:

Kith by Jo Bell

I started reading it over a cup of tea and couldn’t stop. Consumed in one sitting! That has to be a recommendation. I loved it, and kept thinking OOH I wish I’d written that. So, another good omen for the year ahead. It’s not brand new, but dammit it’s good. Kith by Jo Bell (Nine Arches Press) is currently on offer for just £4.99 – Yes! You read that right! Half price! Buy it!

Events/

Standing room only at the Troubadour

Anne-Marie Fyfe at the Troubadour Coffee-House poetry

To be fair, I did have a seat for the first half, but with the sciatica playing up I was happy to stand for the second. Plus it meant a quick getaway at the end with poet friend Jan, and the last (viable) train home.

Coffee-House Poetry at the Troubadour (run by the indefatigable Anne-Marie Fyfe) is always worth the trip to London – I always feel I’m being introduced to interesting and often very fine poets who aren’t necessarily on my radar (for example, who don’t frequent social media and/or are not over-exposed at poetry readings and/or are not UK-based). It’s an intense reminder of the very wide poetry world out there.

On Monday, we heard eight poets, six of whom were new to me, and musical entertainment from Henry Fajemirokun.

Michael Scott (who I know from Swindon Poetry Festival) kicked things off, with a series of poems ostensibly addressed to a ‘little usherette’, but he told us were actually about all the big themes – love, loss, death, family and so forth. I was transfixed for most of the time by his ‘Attack of the 50ft Woman’ T-shirt (which did come into one of the poems). Also in the first half were Alistair Noon, Penny Boxall and Claire Dyer. I knew Penny’s name but don’t think I had heard her read before, and I found her engaging. Claire I met originally at an Interpreter’s House launch, and who I always enjoy hearing read, plus we’re also social media friends. I admire both her poetry and her calm delivery.

Boxall-Dyer-Noon- Troubadour poetry readings
Penny Boxall, Claire Dyer, Alistair Noon

Poetry readings always seem to offer up a myriad ways in which I might put my foot it in. This time the only seat I could find happened to be at close quarters to a table with a plate of half-finished food. It appeared to have been pushed to the edge. I assumed the people at the table had finished with it. It smelt. This was a hot, crowded room, after all. So I picked up the plate and started to take it away to the bar, when someone at the table said ‘excuse me’ and asked for it back. Fair enough. But it never did get finished, or cleared away. But by the time the interval came, the air was ripe with the combined respiration of 70 or 80 people in a basement room, so maybe this is a moot point.

Second half, as seen from a different viewpoint – Ruth Sharman read poems about the slow and desperately sad demise of her father. She is incredibly well-spoken (a slightly old-fashioned phrase, I know) and delivered her work with great style. We also heard from Jon Stone (who I remember as co-editor of Fuselit with Kirsten Irving) who looks far younger than he could POSSIBLY be (now that’s the kind of compliment I would relish), Elaine Gaston (whose work I enjoyed so much I forgot to take a photo – and who had the confidence to finish when we were expecting and wanting more) and Nick Makoha to end, whose introductions were excellent but I liked so much of his poetry, although he suffered from one or two stumbles during the poems.

Sharman, Stone, Mahoka - Troubadour poetry readings
Henry Fajemirokun, Ruth Sharman, Jon Stone and Nick Mahoka

I came away with a distinct impression of which of the poets I would like to read more of, and also quite a few takeaway thoughts – on what to wear for a reading, on engaging with the audience, on improving my diction and vocal tone (I couldn’t help cringing again thinking about my recent performance at the Eyewear launch), on practising, practising, practising…

Jan kindly took the same train as me until we parted at Haywards Heath, and I continued in the company of a zillion Chelsea fans as far as Lewes, then onto a replacement bus to Eastbourne, and to my bed by 1am.

It had been an excellent day in many ways – before even the Troubadour night earlier the day I’d had a poem accepted by the excellent Prole magazine, been to the hospital for the dreaded tests and finally (after a week of worry) pronounced ALL CLEAR. For now, of course. Everything is for now. But no less the sweeter for it.

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Seven Questions for Poets #6 – Claire Dyer

Claire Dyer is a fine poet and novelist who I first met at a launch reading for The Interpreter’s House. She seems to be one of those people who quietly produce one good book after another, without any of the kind of angsty fuss some of us like to indulge in. If you get a chance to hear her read, do so, she has a relaxed but commanding style. Here’s how she responded to ‘Seven Questions’…

1 – What was the last poetry book you read, that you would recommend?

Slant Light by Sarah Westcott (Liverpool University Press, 2016)

2 – What would be your ideal place for a writing retreat?

Somewhere quiet and near the sea.

3 – Do you enter poetry competitions?

Yes.

4 – If someone has never read any poetry, where would you suggest they start?

I’d suggest they read ‘Ode to Autumn’ by John Keats and The Mersey Sound by McGough, Henri and Patten.

5 – You’re asked to give a reading at the Royal Festival Hall, to thousands of people. What goes through your mind?

I’d panic, worry about tripping over my feet as I walked across the stage but then once behind the mic and lectern, I hope I’d think I’m just at home rehearsing in front of my cats as is my wont!

6 – Can you remember the first poem you wrote – what was it about?

Yes, it was about being stuck in the lounge at my grandmother’s house and not being allowed out to play. I can’t remember why I’d been told to stay indoors, maybe it looked like it might rain, or something like that!

7 – A murmuration of starlings, a murder of crows etc – what would you call a group of poets?

A doubt of poets!

QUICK PLUG: Claire’s novels are published by Quercus and her latest collection, Interference Effects, is due from Two Rivers Press in October 2016. She also runs Fresh Eyes, an editorial and critiquing service.

Previous ‘Seven Questions for Poets’:
#1 – Clare Best
#2 – Jill Abram
#3 – Antony Mair
#4 – Hilda Sheehan
#5 – Ian Humphreys

Events/

Launch of The Interpreter’s House #55

Launch of The Interpreter's House 55

And so to Oxford, or the Albion Beatnik Bookstore in Jericho, to be precise. Martin Malone took over the editorship of The Interpreter’s House after the untimely death of Simon Curtis last year, and this is his second issue. I have to say, the production quality is great, I love the cover design, and it’s a cracking issue. It’s now on my ‘rotating subs’ list of magazines – I can’t subscribe to them all for ever, but I try to take 2 or 3 titles each year and then change my subs to another publication after a couple of years, which seems a fair way to do it.

It’s a generous move to introduce launch events for every issue – I wish more magazines would hold them! – but there’s a LOT of work involved, and that’s alongside having the small matter of a magazine to get done and out. With fifty-two contributors in this issue, and three issues a year… plus Martin has a new baby to cope with … well you can imagine.

I’ve had one poem in the magazine once before, when Simon was the editor, so I was thrilled to have another accepted by Martin for this issue, and even more excited to be able to read at the launch. Although there were 14 readers, the evening was beautifully paced – everyone stuck to the ‘two poem’ rule, there was plenty of time for Martin to introduce everyone, enjoy a bit of friendly banter and encourage people to mingle, drink and chat. Very relaxed and very warm. The evening ended with Merryn Williams, the IH’s first editor, reading her own poem from the magazine but also one by Simon Curtis, a fitting tribute.

For my part I was very pleased to meet Claire Dyer, whose name I knew straight away from having seen it in magazines, Stephen Bone, a Brighton Stanza member, and Helen Fletcher, who I hadn’t come across before but whose poem ‘The Drowned’ in IH 55 stood out for me, and she read a poem that had appeared in the Frogmore Papers 82 which I remembered seeing and enjoying at the time.

In the break, Martin Monahan came up to tell me he enjoyed reading my blog, which was a very nice surprise. I’m very grateful to everyone who takes the time to read this, whether or not they’re active in the Comments or ‘Likes’, and it’s always nice when someone introduces themselves and tells me what they get from it. In the second half, Martin read his witty ekphrastic poem ‘Fried eggs’. He’s widely published, including in such hardcore journals as PN Review (respect!) and clearly up and coming: watch for his name.

I didn’t win a mug in the raffle (boo!) but I did win a lovely mix tape (well, CD) – thanks, Martin! – which I listened to on the long drive home. It was the perfect soundtrack for that time of night, when the cones and ‘workers in road’ signs come out, and you’re sent on all kinds of strange diversions and motorways empty in a David Lynch moment. But that’s another story.