I was doing a bit of editing yesterday and looked back on some of the notes I’d made from various workshops, and then I remember this blog post from 2012. Yes, nearly 8 years ago, a heck of a long time in politics but a few seconds in poetics. Anyway, I thought I’d reblog it, as it still made me think (and laugh):
The first two and a half weeks of January have been a bit of a poetry whirl (in the sense of lots of events) and although I’m now happy I’m a bit exhausted, not to mention in need of a reality-check catchup with, er, work stuff.
Last week was the excitement of the T S Eliot Prize readings (and a rather cold car journey there and back since the heating packed up.) Some excellent readings and a super atmosphere – I won’t review it here but there are plenty of interesting accounts of the evening, and photos – for example on Peter Kenny’s blog and Hilaire’s blog.
Then the very next day I hauled my smart-ish self up to London again, this time to the V & A for the T S Eliot prize giving ceremony. I won’t lie to you, this was daunting. I looked around and knew virtually nobody, at least, nobody who would greet me as someone they knew. Even the lovely folks from the Poetry Society, who I thought did know me, were a bit vague when I said hello in the queue to get in, and didn’t give off the ‘come chat to us’ vibe. I was very grateful to Anne-Marie Fyfe, who I did approach and who greeted me warmly by name. (It always impresses me when people who encounter hundreds of people every week are able to remember names of those they’ve maybe only met once or twice, with apparent ease. I’ve seen Anne-Marie do this at the Troubadour and it’s awe-inspiring. ) Anne-Marie reassured me that many of the folks in the room were friends, family and publishers of the shortlisted poets, and therefore unlikely to be familiar anyway. Nonetheless it was a strange feeling to be so at sea among what was undoubtedly a poetry circle to which I don’t have (and probably never will have) the key.
Confession time: I managed to snatch a few photos, and was standing next to Don Paterson (help!) when the winner was announced, hoping to look nonchalant and like someone who wasn’t a gatecrasher. Actually I was thrilled it was Sarah Howe, for several reasons –
Meanwhile, back in the safety of my familiar milieu… Telltale Press had a snack-fuelled AGM last week at Peter’s house and now have plans for the rest of the year and beyond. I’m very grateful to be a part of such a supportive and enthusiastic group of poets. Hurrah!
And latest submissions news is that I decided rather hurriedly to throw out some poems to competitions. One of them was too hurried – after paying £5 to enter the Magma comp, like an idiot I found 3 typos and at least two other things I needed to improve. What’s the matter with me? Could I not have been a bit more careful? So that’s £5 wasted. ACK! Meanwhile, no new or acceptances or declines. So business as usual for now! Now back to work.
As the wind howls outside and the next five-day block of rain chunters towards our heads, I’m feeling very grateful for some poetry relief this dark month.
Last Thursday we got things going at the Poetry Cafe in London, for the first Telltale Press & Friends reading of 2016. It was super to hear Faber poet Jack Underwood perform a set that included poems from his collection Happiness which I loved reading, plus some great new material. He is so original and interesting, as well as being a thoroughly nice chap. And two other thoroughly nice chaps also read – Telltale’s own Peter Kenny and Siegfried Baber. Great to see Sieg settling into a lovely reading style. (I got some nice footage of PK and Jack on my new teensy video cam, and I can see myself getting a lot of mileage from it this year.) Our fourth reader was Kitty Coles, who’s very widely published but relatively undiscovered. A talent worth looking out for – you’ve probably already seen her work in various magazines.
Then this coming Thursday it’s the first Needlewriters event of the year, in my old home town of Lewes, featuring the lovely, talented and hard-working poet Clare Best, debuting yet another of her many projects, this time a collaboration with David Pullan. Really looking forward to that. Also on the bill is Tara Gould, and in the second half a tribute to the late Irving Weinman. Irving was a founder member of the Needlewriters and was working on his eighth novel when he died aged 78 in October.
Tomorrow of course is the Big One – the TS Eliot Prize readings at London’s South Bank. It gets more glittery and sold out every year. Can’t wait to see and hear the mighty DP, whose 40 Sonnets has just won the Costa poetry prize, and my newest hero Sarah Howe reading from the wonderful Loop of Jade (here’s my short review.)
Peter Kenny and I have second row seats this year, so we’ll be up close and personal with the poets reading. Not as up close as I’ll be the following evening though, at the award ceremony. Oh yes, Robin shall go to the ball!
These pocket-sized reviews have been getting a bit long lately and that’s not good, because I start thinking “do I have time to write a 1,500 word post today?” and tend to put it off. So here goes, this is me trying to cut back on the waffle. A couple of paragraphs, a taster… then over to you.
Faithful and Virtuous Night – Louise Glück (Carcanet 2014)
I picked this up at the Poetry Book Fair as part of my drive to read more US poetry, and Glück’s name has since come up twice. Firstly at John McCullough’s course at New Writing South, and secondly at Aldeburgh last week where Tony Hoagland suggested her career has paralleled that of Sharon Olds, but with Glück enjoying the imprimatur of the US poetry establishment while Olds has been the more ‘accessible’ and popular.
Faithful and Virtuous Night is unlike anything I’ve read before, except perhaps D M Thomas’s The White Hotel, a strange and disturbing book where the reader is pulled into an unreliable and dreamlike narrative and left without a handhold. The first poem, ‘Parable’, hints that we may about to be going on a journey, or maybe not. The narrator and his/her companions appear to go through various trials – extreme weather, endless discussions. ‘…we had changed although / we never moved..’ The poems that follow are intriguing – I wanted to keep reading, not just because I wanted to decode the secrets but also because of the storytelling – it brought to mind A Thousand and One Nights…. night, what happens at night, what happens in the shadows of the mind – just when we think we’ve got somewhere we find ourselves still and square one. The narrator has questions and the reader has them too.
A number of poems read as a someone recalling childhood memories but always half in the dark – either literally or metaphorically. The older brother comes in and out of the narrative, as does an aunt, and the dead parents. The narrator retells the fine details of dreams, episodes that may have actually happened, and stories much in the style of Aesop’s Fables. Glück often writes in a flat, unemotional tone but the sense of wonder and mystery is never far off:
I soon found myself
at my narrow table; to my right
the remains of a small meal.
Language was filling my head, wild exhilaration
alternated with profound despair –
But if the essence of time is change,
how can anything become nothing?
(‘The Story of a Day’)
Favourite poem: ‘The Sword in the Stone’.
40 Sonnets – Don Paterson (Faber, 2015)
There are reviews aplenty of this one, shortlisted for the T S Eliot prize this year, but I’ve resisted them even though they may have helped me with some of the poems in this collection.
I wasn’t really expecting 40 Shakespearean sonnets from DP. But the majority of these poems are fourteen lines long, many of them do employ traditional end-rhyme and conventional layouts and quite of few of them are celebratory, if not out-and-out love poems. Sorry if I’m sounding a bit bogged down with technicalities but any book with such a title invites it. But … To The Poems:
I confess I took a while to get into the book. A cluster of existential openers held me back a little on first reading, as did some of the poems for or about people I’m not familiar with left me. That feeling of being at a glamorous or intellectual get-together and not quite being in the know. TV character ‘House’ and Tony Blair get the ironic treatment (the latter somewhat less sympathetically – ‘They are your dead, who still rose to the birds / the day we filled the booths and made the cross, / before you’d forced them howling to their knees / to suffer your attentions. Spare us. Please.’ (‘The Big Listener’). Frustration with bureaucracy (‘To Dundee City Council’, ‘An Incarnation’) rubs along with humour, allegory and experimental pieces such as ‘Seance’ and ‘The Version’. With two poems referencing Francesca Woodman, I gave in to curiosity and looked her up.
The final sonnet (they’re not numbered, although once again the book title made me want to know where I was in the sequence) is for me one of the most beautiful, the discovery and uncovering of an old roundabout by a father and his sons, who after much effort get it moving again
‘ … Our hands still burning
we lay and looked up at a sky so clear
there was nothing in the world to prove our turning
but our light heads, and the wind’s lung.’
Favourite poem: ‘The Roundabout’
Of course in my mind the sainted DP can do no wrong. So I hope you appreciate the effort I’ve made to not gush. I’ll save that for after I see him reading next month – ha!
Incense – Claire Crowther, (Flarestack 2010)
There is so much about this pamphlet that’s clever. I have poem-title envy in spades – ‘This Poem Must Take Clothes Off’, ‘Over is Almost All of Lover’, are just two examples. The sequence consists of 23 poems all of which are fatras – ‘a medieval form consisting of eleven lines and an introductory couplet composed of the first and last lines of the poem.’ We’re also learn on the back cover that the form is associated with ‘nonsense poems’. This, together with the information that Crowther worked for many years as a journalist in the weight management industry, is the key to enjoying the collection. The sense and nonsense of fat, the stories told about it, its vilification, the full physical, emotional and psychological weight of it, is all explored. ‘Even academics / believe fat-calories / are laid down / as fat without / the brain / knowing.’ (‘Fataboo’). ‘Size is my name. / It’s stated on the tiny labels in my clothes. / I want to change it.’ (‘Check, Check, Check the Even Number.’)
Body image and identity are subjects close to my heart and I wanted to love this pamphlet. Although technically and intellectually I found it very satisfying, the poems didn’t move me beyond a sense of sadness and recognition. I think I wanted more anger, or less coolness, less detachment. I wanted to be incensed. The control and precision of the writing, although no doubt deliberate and referencing the fight for control over the enemy ‘fat’, left me a little flat. Nevertheless, Crowther is a fine poet whose work I enjoy, and reading ‘Incense’ has made me want to seek out more recent stuff.
Favourite poem: ‘Say No and Skip It’
Just a quick update and a look ahead to the weekend …
I was excited to see the T S Eliot Prize shortlist, especially as it included the excellent debut collection from Sarah Howe – Loop of Jade – which I mini-reviewed on this blog a short while ago. I’ve already signed up for Katy Evans-Bush‘s excellent preview day when we look at all the shortlisted collections as curated by Katy. I went this a couple of years ago and it really enhanced my enjoyment of the readings night. Recommended! I’ve also bought a couple of the books on the list – Mark Doty’s Deep Lane and Don Paterson’s 40 Sonnets. I’m trying not to read any reviews of the books before I talk about them on the The Reading List, in case they influence me, and I’m trying so hard to learn how to review/critique.
Speaking of DP – I’ve booked to go hear him and Liz Berry read at The Print Room on 15th December…actually off the back of hearing Liz read on the podcast Transatlantic Poetry – definitely worth a browse, there’s a wonderful archive of poetry reading there.
Meanwhile I’m three sessions in to New Writing South’s ‘Advanced Poetry’ course with John McCullough and it’s really warming up. With a large number of students I suppose it always takes a while to settle down. But John’s enthusiasm and support is great. He’s giving us a crash course in poets many of us are unfamiliar with and it’s very exciting. I’m keeping notes on all the writing prompts and tips he gives us in the hope they will be useful to dip into. He’s also suggested we create an ‘anthology’ of poems that we like – in magazines, on the web, etc – type them each out and save them in a ring binder under categories that will help us refer to them later, for inspiration. It sounds a bit analogue but I thought this was a fine idea – I so often read a poem in a mag, think ‘ooh this is good’ then have trouble recalling who wrote it or where I saw it – duh! Mind you, these days one needs to be careful not to fall into the ‘I must have subconsciously been influenced by XYZ and yes my own poem came out pretty much word-for-word the same but it was all an innocent mistake!’
Last week we had a whistle-stop tour of rellie-visiting and on the way we stopped at Bradford upon Avon for Dawn Gorman‘s excellent Words & Ears event. What a privilege to be invited to read there – so many good poets in the room, and a lovely atmosphere. Thank you to everyone who came and also to those who bought pamphlets – I think this was my best reading in terms of sales!
Now I’m looking forward to the official launch of Sarah Barnsley’s debut pamphlet The Fire Station next Thursday 12th November at Goldsmiths in London. The Telltale Press massive is, well, massively excited about it, so do come along if you’re able.
And now to Aldeburgh! It’s my first visit to the Aldeburgh Poetry Festival and I think it’s going to be a wonderful weekend. I’m sharing a ‘sorority house’ with poet friends Clare Best and Charlotte Gann on the bracing Aldeburgh seafront. If you’re coming too, please say hello if our paths cross!
Earlier this week I had two tasks on the go: firstly to whip my pamphlet into shape before sending it off to the Mslexia comp (well, someone has to win it!) and secondly to have an initial read through of several hundred poems in my ‘guest co-selector’ role for a magazine.
It was interesting to do the jobs pretty much side-by-side: to put myself in the shoes of the submitter and the selector at the same time. Of course there are aspects to a pamphlet submission that don’t apply when sending off individual poems. I’ll probably talk more about putting the pamphlet together in another post. But one of the first things I realised as I made my way through the pile (and which made me look again at my pamphlet) was the importance of titles.
I don’t know about you but I often struggle with titles. I know there are many guidelines about this, and everyone has their preferences. I’ve often heard it said that the title is an opportunity: a first chance to get the reader’s attention. Personally, I have an aversion to those obviously attention-seeking titles you see on competition shortlists. So that leaves us with ‘try to be original, but not too cute.’
Sometimes I start with what I think is a great title, then work backwards and try to write a poem that fits. This rarely results in a fine poem, but is a fun exercise. Am I the only one with several pages of a notebook filled with (what I think are) great titles? I’ve also got a few magazine titles up my sleeve, which of course can be as bizarre as you like. And because there are so many small journals in existence, it’s hard to tell the real from the fictional, and does it really matter? Certainly not on social media where things often get blurred. Every now and then I’m tempted to poet to Facebook something like “Delighted to have had a poem selected for Builder’s Bum Magazine!” and wait for the likes and the congratulatory replies. I’ll put money on nobody saying “What the hell magazine is that??”
But seriously … as Don Paterson says, “The title is where you can put a clue as to what the poem is about. Once you stated that, don’t keep saying it.” Obviously I wouldn’t dream of messing with the DP, but this isn’t as easy as it sounds, is it? In my anxiety to avoid a boredom-inducing title I’m aware of sometimes being a tad too obscure. It’s as if the title and the poem used to be attached, but after all the edits there is now a huge gap between the two. Nevertheless, I like a title that makes you work. I saw this poem by Jack Underwood the other day and was so intrigued by the title I read right through to the end, something I confess I’m not always good at with long-ish poems, if I’m not gripped early on. Then I wanted to read it again.
I do think a title can make or break a poem, in the sense that a good poem can probably get away with a poor title, but a mediocre poem can rise if the title has been given some thought. I also think it’s a wasted opportunity to give a poem about a cat the title ‘My Cat’.
What do you think? Read any good titles lately? What goes through your mind when giving a poem a title?
There may only have been four of us at the Stanza reading group last night but we had plenty to talk about. The poems we looked at were ‘Reprimands’ by Michael Donaghy, ‘Calcium’ by Deryn Rees Jones, ‘Substance & Shadow by John Hewitt and ‘A gift’ by Don Paterson. So America, Wales, ireland and Scotland all represented.
Michael Donaghy is a poet I’d heard of but hadn’t read before, and a bit of digging revealed more about him. A group of his former students at Birkbeck College and City University, London formed ‘The King’s Poets’ a decade ago, and one of their number (Lucy Ingrams) recently took 2nd place in the Magma Poetry Competition I believe. There’s a bit of trivia for you.
Meanwhile the mission was on to rescue Deryn Rees Jones from the mixed impression she gave at the TS Eliot readings (the poem she read included the word ‘dog’ 594 times, or thereabouts.) We all enjoyed ‘Calcium’ I think, and managed to interpret it in many different ways,with increasing vehemence!
I think perhaps John Hewitt’s ‘Substance and Shadow’ was my favourite poem of the night, despite the unpromising title – how many times are we told in workshops to avoid abstract subjects? In fact there was little that was abstract about the poem. Like ‘Reprimands’ it followed a fairly strict form of iambic pentameter with an abab type rhyme scheme. (Although there were noticeably deliberate breaks with this in the Donaghy poem). I want to call ‘Substance and Shadow’ a sonnet, and maybe it is – 16 lines followed by 8 lines – not a Shakespearean sonnet, but another type? Please put me right if I’m showing my ignorance.
Don Paterson’s ‘A Gift’ was the one I brought, from his 2003 collection ‘Landing Light’. It’s actually not my favourite in the book, but I chose it for technical reasons not worth going into. It has a mysterious, almost biblical quality about it (nice link with the Donaghy poem here). I love the way Paterson works with form; in this collection there is everything from sonnets to prose poems to ballads. And always very clever.
The Mimi Khalvati workshop notes I posted here recently went down well, so I thought I’d share with you some gems from Don Paterson. Don came down to Sussex for the Pighog Poetry Festival in 2010, and as a tea-making volunteer I was lucky enough to sit in on his masterclass. (Actually that sounds very grand – the way Don described it was ‘you can ask me questions and I’ll just talk’ – in other words, no workshopping or advice on individual work.)
Clearly the man doesn’t beat about the bush. I have to say I came away with so many great tips, and I go back to them OFTEN – I know I still commit some of the ‘sins’ mentioned here and need reminding not to do it! So if you’re sitting comfortably, here goes:
Themes, titles, general tips
Language
And while we’re on the subject of DP, this video of him in some windswept location reading ‘Rain’ is one of my favourites:
Saw a tweet about the new Arvon course list for 2012 being up. So couldn’t resist taking a look.
I’m going through this thing at the moment where I feel a desperate need for some sort of mentoring, or at least workshopping, with better poets than myself. Better writers, more experienced… I guess I don’t necessarily define ‘better’ in terms of recognition or success, but of course that’s part of it.
But it’s funny, sometimes, when I meet someone in a poetry setting, I get an immediate feeling that they’re ‘good’ – it’s hard to describe really, but I get a little ‘ping’, a lightbulb moment I suppose.
I can think of three people who’ve given me this feeling in the last few years. But I’m too shy to name them right now 🙂 The point is, they’re not all obvious candidates for the ‘lightbulb moment’. And I’ve come across many others who you’d think would qualify, but don’t.
It’s probably nothing to do with poetry wisdom or anything. Just a spark, a perceived (and possible one-sided) rapport.
Anyway, the Arvon courses that jumped out at me were a week on ‘Advanced Poetry’ with Carol Ann Duffy (quality-controlled entry, which I like) – but it’s a) in Scotland and b) overlapping with family holiday (already booked) …. a week in Devon with Mimi Khalvati and Sean O’Brien (I think… if I remember that correctly) – I haven’t yet been able to infiltrate the Lewes Live Lit monthly workshops with Mimi Khalvati, something that frustrates me NO END – and the idea of travelling to darkest Devon JUST to get into a workshop with her, when I can’t do so in my HOME TOWN, seems deliciously perverse.
And then there’s the possibility of a week with Don Paterson, albeit a ‘fiction and poetry’ week, when fiction interests me not one iota…. but Don Paterson? Oh my. Don. Paterson.
So I probably won’t be shelling out my £650 this year to the Arvon Foundation. And anyway, all these courses…. they’re a business, right? Just how many courses have the successful poets actually been on, at least, those who’ve been plying their trade since before the MA Creative Writing boom?
Isn’t writing better poetry down to reading good poetry, attempting to write stuff that’s as good, and practising again and again?
