Tag: jack underwood

What I’ve been doing (and While you were Sleeping)

It’s three and a half weeks until my first term essay is due, and I’m starting to relax into it. Which may sound strange, as I know the usual narrative around deadlines is that the tension rises and the panic grows the closer they get. But instead I did all the panicking early on, when I couldn’t decide what to write about and the vastness of possibilities rose in front of me like Mount Everest. Now I have a loose topic, not exactly a plan yet, but I’m getting there. Today, a flurry of post-its. Soon: an essay plan.

post its

One of the texts I’m focusing on is a book suggested by Peter Kenny who promptly sent me his copy, which is generous of him as it appears to be out of print: Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, a poet who died too young, which may be why she’s not more well-known, certainly it seems in the UK. It’s completely gripped me and I’m going to be scrutinising it alongside Anne Carson’s brilliant Nox, another book that I’ve only recently discovered even though it’s a few years old now. Woop!

Last week was Episode 5 of Planet Poetry, in which I interviewed Jack Underwood and Peter and I talked about some of the poetry collections we’ve enjoyed this year. We’re having a few weeks off now so the next episode will be on January 7th. It’s been hard work getting ‘the Planet’ off the ground, but so stimulating and great fun to work with Peter on it.

I’ve not submitted a great many poems this year, in fact nothing in the last six months. Alongside the usual rejections it’s been super to have work published in Stand, The Frogmore Papers, The North, and I do have two poems forthcoming in Prole. But then… nothing. I hope I can get something out soon, or in 2021 I might vanish.

On a more positive note, I’m going to be taking part in an online reading for the Mary Evans Picture Library in January, and Chichester poetry are going to have me as their ‘featured poet’ in February/March. Come on Robin, write some bloody new poems why don’t you.

Meanwhile my wee group the Lewes Singers have had a quiet year, but a few of us got together for a very small, socially-distanced concert last weekend. It was so wonderful to sing with others again, if a bit tricky having to stand so far apart. And emotional. I felt myself welling up during a couple of the carols. I know there’s a lot of discussion about how to take care of our mental health at the moment, but the subtext I always hear is ‘yes but of course physical health is much more important.’ I do wonder if it shouldn’t be a more equal balance.

Yesterday I had what turns out was my last gym workout for while, so jogs on the windy seafront beckon.  And good news today: the arrival of half a dozen favourite feelgood films on second hand DVD from World of Books which Nick and I plan to hunker down with over the coming weeks. (Overboard, It’s a Wonderful Life, While you were Sleeping, Green card etc) I know what you’re thinking: only six? What about the rest of January? But some of those are going to get watched several times, I’m sure. Plus there’s always Netflix.

Thanks so much for reading/commenting on this blog. Wishing you a peaceful Christmas, and (as someone said on a card) a Happier New Year.

Poems for a Christmas concert

I was recently asked to select some readings to go in between the movements of a choral piece. The piece is Bob Chilcott’s On Christmas Night. In it, Chilcott sets a number of carols in a sequence, telling the Christmas story from the fall of Adam and Eve (yes, it hadn’t occurred to me that it starts there – Nativity Plays usually skip straight to the shepherds in the fields) – to the birth of Jesus.

I’ll come clean now – it was my husband who asked me, on behalf of the East Sussex Community Choir which he conducts. The project interested me, so even though I knew there wouldn’t be any payment on this occasion (!) I was happy to take it on.

The score suggests which readings would be suitable, but that others may be substituted. Now, I’ve been to plenty of concerts (especially at Christmas) where there are readings in between the music. Almost without exception they are either the standard Bible readings of ‘lessons and carols’ (such as the one that’s broadcast each year from King’s College Cambridge), or they are ‘light’ – passages from Dickens or ‘The night before Christmas’ by Clement Clark Moore, amusing Christmas-themed stories or anecdotes. Or else it’s Eliot’s Journey of the Magi.

I wasn’t interested in doing the ‘same old’, so I set out to find poems or texts that were by living/contemporary writers. I wanted secular, not sacred – words that would complement the religious story being told by the choir, and invite contemplation of the wider spiritual context – themes of wonder, joy, love, birth, death and the cycle of nature.

I topped and tailed with two extracts from A C Grayling‘s extraordinary The Good Book, a kind of secular Bible and a fascinating compilation of thousands of texts by philosophers, teachers, prophets, leaders, literary figures and writers. So, alongside the carol about Adam eating the apple and falling from grace, we are reminded how a tree bears both flowers and fruit, and its fruit is knowledge, which teaches the good gardener how to understand the world.  The closing extract is a short passage about the nature of wisdom, which parallels the Biblical story of the ‘wise men’.

For the rest of the readings I chose poems:

Janet Sutherland‘s ‘line’ from her collection Hangman’s Acre takes us into a wintry but beautiful landscape where geese ‘carve a soundless line’, where ‘simple shapes’ and ‘muffled earth’ set a scene of waiting and anticipation, before ‘the line sets out alone’. There is both apprehension and wonder in this – to navigate a path (through life?) with ‘no compass   no margin’ and yet not to hesitate, but to simply wait for the moment. For me, this approximates to the journey facing Mary, and indeed Christ after her – they face up to the unknown because they have no choice – they have faith and they accept.

‘Prayer’ by Carol Ann Duffy is a favourite of mine, and I knew that it would be familiar to at least some of the audience. For me it examines self-doubt, sadness, possibly even grief, in a way that uplifts by showing us the hope and love present when we open our ears to the quotidian sounds around us. Life goes on, children practise their piano scales, we cope with bad days – all this and more expressed in a sonnet which concludes with an extract from the Shipping Forecast, an enduring and recognisable ritual not unlike daily prayers and ‘Latin chants’. And as with ‘line’, there are musical references in ‘Prayer’ which felt appropriate for this context.

When it came to the nativity, I wanted a poem to express all the wonder, hope, and love felt by a parent at the birth of a child. ‘William’ by Jack Underwood (from his collection Happiness) is a creative, exuberant and highly original love poem to a new baby, from his father. Starting from the point of what he is familiar with, the speaker then finds himself at a loss when faced with ‘your fine melon head, your innocent daring-to-be’ – completely ‘uncooked’ at the newness and intensity of his feelings – ‘I can feel my socks being on’ – pure joy and a lot of fun.

The final poem I chose was the wonderful song-like ‘A short story of falling’ by Alice Oswald from her collection Falling Awake. It takes the audience back to the theme of birth, lifecycles, regeneration and the wonder of nature. The title also plays on the idea of the Biblical ‘fall’ with which we began. There is so much beauty in this poem – the summer shower that ‘steals the light and hides it in a flower’ and the narrator wanting to know how to ‘balance/ the weight of hope against the light of patience’. Like a song, we reach the end and feel we are ready to being again – ‘the story of the falling rain / that rises to the light and falls again’.

I can’t say yet whether all this will work or not, as the concert is this evening in Lewes! The reader will be a member of the choir who’s also an actor – in rehearsal he delivered the poems with sensitivity and clarity. I haven’t asked for the poems to be printed in the programme as I didn’t want to risk breaching any copyright, so it’s all in the reading. All the poems are credited though, and I hope it may encourage some people to seek out the books in which they appear. Not everyone will be that interested, but at least it gets contemporary writing in front of a general audience.

So no ‘jolly old Saint Nick’ or Tiny Tim or the ghost of Christmas past for the audience tonight, but more challenging fare! Let’s do it!

January – ugh! Thank goodness for poetry events…

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!

 

 

A Bonanza, a Finale and a look ahead to 2016

It’s been a busy week, still catching up, but I wanted to post a recap of things before we’re into the pre-Christmas week when events seem to accelerate.

Last Monday I was I privileged to be a member of the Brighton team (especially considering I now live in Eastbourne) at a Stanza Bonanza with Kent & Sussex Stanza at the Poetry Cafe. Bonanzas are the regular readings organised by Paul McGrane of the Poetry Society. They give Stanza members a chance to read at the iconic venue and meet/socialise with other Stanza poets. Always great fun, and this one was a corker. Poet friends Jill Munro and Jess Mookherjee were on the opposing team and it was lovely to hear them read, and Brighton definitely brought out the big guns – Peter Kenny, Tony Gill, Andie Davidson, Susan Evans and Marek Urbanowicz.

Thursday saw the launch reading of Clare Best’s poem ‘Cell’ which has been produced beautifully by the The Frogmore Press in a fold-out pamphlet alongside striking artwork by Michaela Ridgway. Michaela organises and generally hosts the Pighog poetry nights at the Redroaster in Brighton, but on this occasion she handed over the MC responsibility to Daisy Behagg, who did a fine job. The audience was very well behaved – not sure if that was a concession to Daisy, or just that the season finale drew a particularly high quality audience! Also on the bill were Tom Chivers of Penned in the Margins, and Stephen Payne who I seem to run into regularly at readings around the south and who was in the audience for my reading at Words & Ears last month, which was a lovely surprise. Michaela is super multi-talented, by the way – poet, artist and someone who makes things happen, on top of a big day job. Props. It was an excellent evening and I felt really energised and inspired by the poetry I heard. Here are some pics from the night:

Daisy Behagg at Pighog poetry night in Brighton
Daisy Behagg
Tom Chivers at Pighog poetry night in Brighton
Tom Chivers
Michaela Ridgway & Clare Best at Pighog poetry night in Brighton
Michaela Ridgway & Clare Best

Then on Friday we finally had our Telltale Press & Friends January reading all confirmed – to be held at the Poetry Cafe on Thursday 7th January, with special guest poet Jack Underwood. I’ve been a big fan of Jack’s work for a while and enjoyed his ‘putting together a pamphlet’ course at the Poetry School a couple of years ago. I loved his collection Happiness too, so I’m of course very happy that he’s reading with us alongside Telltales Siegfried Baber & Peter Kenny, and Kitty Coles. I often see Kitty’s work in magazines and heard her read at the launch of South magazine last month, so I was very pleased she agreed to join us for this event. If you’re within striking distance of London do come along – it’s free! A warm Telltale welcome awaits.

The Reading List, week 7 – Jack Underwood ‘Happiness’

 

Only one book to report on in this episode of The Reading List  – there seem to be endless admin jobs involved in moving house, as well as getting out and about exploring my new town when the weather’s been so glorious. Plus I have a cold. Boo! Anyway, excuses be damned. The upshot is that I’m devoting a whole post to this one.

Happiness, Jack Underwood (Faber, 2015)

A few years ago I was in a Poetry School class about ‘putting a pamphlet together’, taught by Jack Underwood. I’m not sure I got as much out of it as I could have, partly because the classes always seemed to start late and I always had to leave promptly to get my train. Attendance was patchy, so I didn’t get much of a sense of the other attendees. I was probably also not really ready for a pamphlet.

There was lots to enjoy though. I have a fond memory of Harry Man‘s work and his sense of humour. And although Jack’s teaching style seemed chaotic he had a real presence and was generous, sparky and funny. I’ve always enjoyed his poems when I’ve come across them in magazines, so I was really looking forward to Happiness, his first full collection just out from Faber.

First, the title: you can read as much irony into it as you wish. Inside are poems of love, anxiety, death, depression and most of all (it felt to me) wonder. In the opening poem, an onion is cut in half, and despite the ‘hung cloud of acid’ it’s a thing of beauty.

as the knife bisected

like a maker of names passing
between twins, calling one half Perfect
and the other half also Perfect. (‘Certain’)

The idea of twins and speculation about ‘otherness’, the nature of the relationship of the narrator to the living world round him/her: people, nature, animals, things – there are eggs, toads, and questions without question marks. It’s a world of conundrums and riddles, where the traditional answers to the burning questions of life are found wanting (‘…suppose there was no panther.’ ‘Theology’).

There are poems of sheer joy – ‘She loves you like your hair smells proteinous; she loves you like pausing to move a snail somewhere safer in the rain; she loves you like milk is not like water…’ (‘She Loves You Like’). ‘… the goofy ten gallon/ hats of happiness that children plant on us everytime/ they impersonate knowledge.’ (‘Happiness’)

In ‘Inventory of Friends’, with more than a nod to Shakespeare’s sonnet 130, we get a list of ‘grass-topped lives’ (what a wonderful phrase – suggesting not only the icing on a cake, the pretty surface, but also ‘pushing up daisies’, ie dead below) in which the narrator compares himself to them…

… But with a predictability
that would be cuteness if it weren’t honest first,
my thoughts turn to you…

what it might be like to be you, coming home
in four hours’ time with no inkling of the way
my insides grown and click like a tired, old
galleon when you take off your coat like that.

More often than not we’re on a knife edge between happiness and sadness – ‘like an anvil dropped from heaven’ (‘Sometimes your sadness is a yacht’). There’s something terrible and poignant about ‘Your horse’, ‘bending himself into the room… we are crunching on polo mints together / and remembering the way your body used to move.’

In ‘Second’, the narrator offers advice –

…I would tell you to let yourself
be sad, if being sad is what happens when a person,
awkward in a universe as a plum on a plate,
drops their day to the inaccessibility of other days,
and loosens their tie on the sofa to let some life out.

It’s beautiful, unexpected, vibrant stuff and I felt I’d been kicked up the backside. This is a book I see myself back to again and again. Do read it.

Poetry Book Fair and other shenanigans

Yes, it’s the obligatory ‘look what I bought at the Poetry Book Fair‘ photo – I love looking at other people’s ‘hauls’ to see what I missed. There was so much choice it was overwhelming.

My strategy was to start calmly – on my first sweep I just picked up a couple of things at full price, including Jack Underwood’s Happiness and Holly Hopkins’ pamphlet Soon Every House Will Have One from which I’d heard her reading in the morning. Later in the day I then did a kind of serendipity follow-up, picking interesting-looking publications up at random and enjoying some excellent bargains. Carcanet started selling everything for a fiver, and even Telltale got in on the act by offering a catchy “four for the price of two and a half”.

Each year I’m seeing more and more of my poet friends there, or maybe it’s just that I’m getting to know more poets. There’s a definite buzz about it. Props to Chrissy Williams and Joey Connolly for all their hard work in organising.

I had to leave early to make it back for a Lewes Singers concert and it was a delight to be able to sit and listen for a change. And so ended a crazy weekend that started with Waitrose having no record of the glasses we’d booked for the concert, and finished with us deciding to pull out of the flat we were on the verge of buying. The perfect place is out there. But for now, we’re very happy in our temporary home. I just can’t seem to locate anything and the spare room is one huge mess of boxes (some half-unpacked) and sundry loose items from golf clubs to something that looks like a big heavy-duty sleeping bag. It’s actually a cover for the harpsichord. Oh yes, we found space for that.

Amongst the fog of dealing with solicitors, estate agents, utilities, plumbers etc, finding my way around a strange town and forever looking for the stapler, one thing I’m determined to make time for is the Reading List. Most of our books will have to stay in boxes (rental places don’t seem to have things like fitted bookshelves) but I’ve ‘saved’ a few poetry books. Plus, in the move, I came across a couple of long lost pamphlets that had disappeared down the back of the bed. Hurrah! Add to that my book fair new purchases and that should keep me going for a while.

PS oops I almost forgot – look what I picked up, Elly!

poem by Elly Nobbs

Poetry titles, aka the naming game

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.

Contents page from Frank O Hara Selected
Can only Frank O’Hara get away with a poem entitled ‘Poetry’?

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??”

Magma 57 contents
Browsing the titles of poems in magazines can be interesting… this is a page from Magma 57

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?

Bumper latest news

Seagull_dieppe

Lots been happening lately.

Firstly, my good friend and very talented poet Charlotte Gann was shortlisted for the Michael Marks pamphlet award. Although she was pipped at the post it was a wonderful to see her pamphlet The Long Woman make the shortlist for a big prize.

Then, I had the chance to take part in a workshop here in Lewes with Mimi Khalvati. I’ve been on the ‘reserve’ list for a while and there’s now a strong possibility I may make the cut for the autumn dates.

It’s difficult to step into an established workshopping group where everyone else knows each other, and I had decided not to attend as a ‘fill in’ any more, but if I can become a regular member I think that will be much more helpful, for me and I’m sure for everyone else, as It’s not always useful to have a stranger turn up and launch into a critique of your work.

Also in June I finished a short course at the Poetry School with Jack Underwood, all about putting together a pamphlet. It was useful and fun, although I’m not sure I’d do a regular class in Lambeth again as travel to and from isn’t easy – the class over-ran every time and because I had to run for a train it meant I missed quite a lot. More about the pamphlet in another post. Met some interesting poets on the course, including Harry Man, Madeleine Wurzburger, Steve Boorman and Olly Todd.

Although I missed the Brighton Stanza meetup last month and will miss the next (am giving a talk to the London Writers’ Cafe group about blogging) I did make it to the Pighog poetry night at the RedRoaster Cafe in Brighton last week. It was a great evening, with John Davies, John McCullough and Rosy Carrick reading – I really enjoyed Rosy’s performance and was great to finally meet the lovely John McC who I feel I already know a little via Twitter and Facebook – I’m now enjoying reading his book The Frost Fairs. I did read at the open mic (just – they called it a day and then said ‘OK, we’ll take one more reader’) and got a ‘well done’ from John Davies afterwards, which was kind of him.

PS the photo was taken in Dieppe at the weekend, where it appears to be summer.