Tag: poetry readings

A clutch of Spring readings

Spring Daffs

After reading Jayne Stanton’s uplifting post about all the things she’s got to look forward to and how glad she is to see the back of February, I couldn’t help but agree – Spring is on its way and several treats are on the horizon.

Things kick off this evening at The Troubadour, where Anne-Marie Fyfe has invited me to join the readers in a yellow-themed extravaganza Big Yellow Taxi. I’m planning to read a short ‘poem starting with a first line by Emily Dickinson’ which features some of my favourite things yellow (eg Doris Day’s hair). I’m looking forward to seeing Stephen Bone there too, and I know he’s famous for taking the colour theme very seriously!

In a couple of week’s time I’m taking myself off to the lovely Arts and Crafts house Standen for a few days where I’m having a self-styled reading & writing retreat. Hurrah! Returning just in time for the launch of the Needlewriters Anthology in Lewes  on 26th March and an opportunity to read alongside my fabulous poetic cohorts Clare Best, Janet Sutherland, Charlotte Gann, Jeremy PageLiz Bahs, Judith Kazantzis & Kay Syrad. I feel like the new girl being invited to the prefects’ table.

The next Needlewriters quarterly event is on April 9th, closely followed the next week by Telltale Poets & Friends at the Lewes Arms on Wednesday 15th April. I’m very excited about that as our headline reader will be Martin Malone, a fine poet as well as editor of The Interpreter’s House. We’ll also be showcasing two up and coming poets, Ryan Whatley and Helen Fletcher. Helen’s coming all the way from Carlisle so I hope we can get good audience and show her what a poetry-loving lot we are in Lewes.

In the back end of the month I’ll be reading at Poetry in the House, Shanta Acharya’s regular event at Lauderdale House in Highgate, on Wednesday 22nd April alongside some super poets including Mona Arshi and Richard Skinner.

And big thanks to Michaela Ridgway for inviting me to read at the long-running Pighog Poetry night in Brighton on Thursday 30th April.  Pighog Press have been taken over by US publisher Red Hen, but the Brighton poetry nights continue. The Redroaster Cafe is a super venue and the nights are well attended, so it should be great fun.

If you’re able to get to any of the above, please come and say hello!

 

Stanza Bonanza – Brighton & Palmers Green

Stanza Bonanza Brighton v Palmers Green, June 2014
A bit fuzzy but definitely us

It was a lovely evening at the Poetry Cafe last night – and a very high standard of readings I felt – there was music too: I don’t normally go for bits of singing inserted into poetry, but Tom Cunliffe gave a riveting performance including just that. It set the atmosphere alight.

It was nice to encounter again Katherine Gallagher who I met earlier in the month when we were both reading at the Lamb Festival. Katherine brought her own brand of anecdote and self-deprecating charm to the business of introducing the Palmers Green poets, while I struggled to haul myself out of a sofa in an elegant fashion each time I got up to introduce ours. Paul McGrane did a great job of organising the whole thing and adjusting the mic stand seemingly for every reader, we were all such different heights. In the Palmers Green camp I particularly enjoyed Joan Michelson‘s reading – I’d  come across Joan’s name a lot but we hadn’t actually met before – and Judith Willetts.

Our Brighton Stanza poets were wonderful, of course – but then I would say that! Big thanks to Tom Cunliffe, Antony Mair, Peter Kenny, Ponnie Dudley and Marion Tracy for coming along and to our supporters on the night. And to Peter especially for paying for the cab that got us to Victoria in time for me to catch the 21.47 home, in time to join Nick in the pub after his students had performed their last concert of the year, a glass of wine and the balmy stroll home at midnight. Happy days.

Exit, pursued by a Bear

Um, no, I’m not referring to my previous post which generated a large amount of correspondence – although none of it in the comments, funnily enough! – mostly sympathetic. No indeed, but more an excuse to use one of my favourite lines from Shakespeare. The tenuous link is to the Vanguard Readings which take place at The Bear on Camberwell New Road (geddit??), and which I finally got to last night after many months of ticking the ‘Maybe’ box on the Facebook invitations.

My friend Lucy is that rare creature – a poetry supporter but not a poet. We once turned up casually late at the Betsey Trotwood, then caused a minor scene, so this time we were determined to get a seat and behave ourselves. As it happened we were the first in the room, something I seem to be making a habit of lately.

James Wood & David Ogunmuyiwa at the Vanguard Readings June 2014
James Wood & David Ogunmuyiwa
Martin Malone & Joanna Walsh at the Vanguard Readings June 2014
Martin Malone & Joanna Walsh

We heard prose readings from David Ogunmuyiwa, Joanna Walsh and Nicci Cloke, and poetry from Paul Ebbs, Martin Malone (fresh from the recent/aforementioned Interpreter’s House launch) and James Wood, flown in from Toronto. Incidentally, Joanna is running a Twitter hashtag campaign #readwomen2014 in an effort get people reading more fiction by women. Interesting idea.

It was a great night with plenty of variety and a fair bit of refreshingly non-toe-curling sex (in the poetry). I’ve never quite cracked the poetry sex thing – I think I have a fear of it either sliding into farce a la Frankie Howerd, or else someone coming across some steamy verse when I’m in my dotage and thinking eeeuw! you mean that old lady wrote this? As Lucy put it, it’s the tattoo thing. How will it look when you’re ninety? Hmm…anyway, I digress.

The monthly Vanguard Readings are run very efficiently by the charming and unflappable Richard Skinner and generally feature a mix of poetry and prose. The formula is six readers, three before the break, three after, each reader getting ten minutes or so. It’s free to attend and last night there were about 40 people in the audience, but judging from photos on the FB page it can sometimes be standing room only. No open mic, and even with the vagaries of Southern Rail and the notorious ‘black hole’ of no trains to Lewes between 9.47 and 10.47 I was home by midnight. Result!

I’m sure I’ll be there again in November to hear an all-poet line up, including the wonderful Josephine Corcoran reading from her forthcoming tall-lighthouse pamphlet. You can keep up with what’s on via the Vanguard Readings Facebook Page.

Submissions, forthcoming events, pamphlet sales etc

Lamb Festival 2014

Latest submissions news is …. no news. Or rather, another of my stupid cockups:  according to my records I’d made a submission to Lighthouse in early April, but then this week when I checked their website I noticed it said that submissions are always acknowledged with an email auto-responder. I couldn’t find one in my inbox, so then I wondered if I hadn’t submitted after all, and so sent three more (different) poems. But these weren’t acknowledged either, so now I’m wondering whether the first submission was received after all and now I’ve multiple-submitted – DUH.

Apart from that, I’ve been working on a pamphlet submission with I was hoping to send to Flarestack but their window closes on Saturday and I’m not sure what I’ve got is ready to send, so I may have to hold my horses on that one.

Meanwhile, thanks to a lovely feature on Rebecca Gethin’s blog I’ve had a little flurry of pamphlet sales – thanks everyone! And on the subject of pamphlets, my Telltale Press venture has moved up a gear with a wonderful poet joining as our new Associate Editor – to be announced on the Telltale blog imminently! Exciting news! Plus the second Telltale pamphlet by the very talented Peter Kenny is almost on its way to the printers …

I’m gearing up for a busy week and two trips to London: on Monday I’m reading at the Lamb Festival in Edmonton, and on Wednesday it’s the first launch event for The Rialto – can’t miss that!

Next Thursday I’m helping with an evening of poetry by and for Jo Grigg, much-missed poet friend and Stanza rep. It’s shaping up into a joyous event which I’ve no doubt will be a wonderful tribute to Jo’s writing, her love of poetry and the affection we all felt for her.

Thomas, Plaice, Hurst reading in Hove

Siân Thomas, Stephen Plaice, Rebecca Hurst
Siân Thomas, Stephen Plaice, Rebecca Hurst

Yesterday was only the second sunny, (almost) balmy evening of the year, and I found myself (almost) beside the sea, amongst some magical works of art and listening to poetry at Cameron Contemporary Art Gallery in Hove.

It was strong reading from Siân Thomas, Stephen Plaice and Rebecca Hurst, and a super atmosphere thanks to the efforts of gallery owner Robin who played host. The building is a former garage, with floor to ceiling glass doors along the whole of its frontage, and we found ourselves sat sideways on to Second Avenue and the languorous comings and goings of curious pedestrians, even an Asda delivery van apparently pulling up to take a look. None of this detracted from the readings, far from it – in fact I made an interesting discovery – that outside visual stimulation actually enhances my listening. (It’s the background noise you often get in pubs and cafes I find distracting.)

Although I didn’t know any of the audience, both Siân and Rebecca are familiar to me from poetry events in Lewes and Sussex generally. Siân is currently Poet in Residence for the Ashdown Forest, which sounds particularly magical and Midsummer Night’s Dream-ish. She read a number of pieces from her pamphlet Ovid’s Echo, a collection inspired by Ovid’s Metamorphoses. I particularly enjoyed hearing her take on Medusa’s story. All the poets were great at introducing and setting the scene a little (but not too much) – I made a mental note to become better at that. It’s treading that fine line between too much of ‘this poem is about…’ and yet giving enough clues for the listener to enjoy the nuances of a piece.

Rebecca writes, teaches and is also a talented illustrator, as you can see from her website. She was telling me that she’s hoping to start a creative writing PhD soon, which will take her away from the area and from her job at Glyndebourne. Rebecca has such a wonderful speaking voice. Her poems had poignancy and energy, a compelling combination. And speaking of Glyndebourne, the third reader, Stephen Plaice, is well known for his opera libretti, as well as poetry and a career’s worth of writing credentials for stage and screen. Stephen has had two collections published, and he read some powerful pieces from one of them, Over the Rollers.

Ah, lovely to come away feeling inspired. I’m hoping to be back at the Gallery again soon, maybe to take part in a reading, as Siân was telling me she’s hoping to organise more events there. And who knows, maybe we’ve found a great venue for the Telltale Press launch?

 

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.

And the winner is …?

At the Royal Festival HallWe huddled, we looked out for friends or people we knew, we stood around holding our tiny £5 plastic glasses of wine. But mostly we sat and listened, as Ian McMillan instructed us, but with very little murmuring or whooping, as the T S Eliot Prize nominated poets in turn did the long walk to the podium. (On the way home with poet friends Julia and Charlotte, we decided that ‘the walk up’ must feel like an eternity.)

What happened (I apologise for the sketchiness, especially my accounts of the first half readers, I didn’t take notes so these are my impressions as I recall):

Daljit Nagra entertained us with a five-hander sort of ‘rehearsed reading’ of a chapter from the Ramayana. They used a nice chunk of the stage and kind of shook things up a bit.

Moniza Alvi followed on without blinking, as if headlining with a crew of readers pretending to be monkeys and buffalo was the most normal thing in the world. Her reading was quiet and understated.

Maurice Riordan admitted he was a bit nervous, and fiddled with the water bottle rather a lot. Nevertheless a little vulnerability can go a long way, and he warmed up.

Anne Carson was sadly indisposed, and for some reason a video link was beyond the capabilities of the RFH, so we had an apologetic Ruth Padel standing in. I didn’t envy her.

Last before the break was Michael Symmons Roberts, still my favourite to win even though he’s already cleaned up the gongs this year. Drysalter is top of my wishlist. Maybe I’ll wait for the next edition with the ‘Winner of the TS Eliot Prize’ strapline – tee hee.

Dannie Abse opened the second half and the audience clapped and ooohed as if no-one could believe he can still read so beautifully at his age…. reminded me of when people used to say of my mother ‘isn’t she MARVELLOUS’ when I told them how OLD she was, as if they were looking at the Dead Sea Scrolls. Of course, Dannie Abse IS marvellous… but that’s probably not relevant.

Helen Mort isn’t 90, quite the opposite (I leave you to work out what that is) and she took the stage by the scruff of its neck. Although her poem ‘Scab’ had left me unmoved on the page, the sincerity in her voice pulls you in. A good reading.

George Szirtes began with a list poem about colours, which I confess I struggled to concentrate on, but then it was quite warm in the hall, and middle of the second half is a difficult spot, as many people are starting to look at their watch and check the train times. Sorry George, I don’t think my account has done your reading justice.

Ah, Sinead Morrissey. Having never heard her read, I loved her accent and the way she performed virtually from memory. I confess I find poems to do with childbirth a major turn-off, but the one she ended with was compelling and moving, and seemed much shorter than it probably was (for me that’s a positive, in case you were wondering).

Robin Robertson appeared rather stern, like a tetchy headmaster – no hellos, just straight into a poem in that dour Scottish delivery, making Don Paterson sound like Daljit Nagra. But to his credit, he softened up and even drew a few laughs. A poet friend said afterwards she was won over by his choice of poems, going for the more personal.

Faber Social: Sam Riviere, Joe Dunthorne, Luke Wright, Ruth Padel

It was a arts-studenty sort of scene last night at the Faber Social in London: a narrow basement room, concrete floor, a sweaty mix of music and conversation growing in volume, a parade of pretty, thin girls in dresses with cinched waists, ponytails and fifties make-up and fresh-looking lads with pale skins and serious glasses. 80% of the audience was probably under 26, judging by the slightly nonplussed reaction to poems about fatherhood and childcare by someone who looked like a student himself (Luke Wright). Meanwhile Ruth Padel held court on a table with various bright young things. Fascinating to watch the milling and mixing.

Luke Wright is very funny. As well as compering, he performed the last set and pulled the audience along with the sheer pace and energy of his poems – ‘The Drunk Train’ on its slow stagger back to Essex on a Saturday night, Wright’s imagined showdown with a sadistic French cop ‘Jean Claude Gendarme’ – fantastic.

Before Luke we’d had a set from Ruth Padel, who seemed slightly out of place in this company but the audience was quiet and respectful (a sure sign this was a serious poetry event, I guess). She read from a new work ‘The Mara Crossing’. I confess I struggled to engage with all the poems – they were quite long and dealt with big issues of migration, human rights and the environment, and Padel’s voice is warm but slight.

The performer whose name had attracted me to the event was Sam Riviere, whose 81 Austerities I love, or rather I should say I found compelling, even though some of the poems were actually repellant.  Interestingly enough, his ‘double act’ last night with Joe Dunthorne was based on the theme ‘Battle’ and was concocted around the idea of two people meeting to collaborate on a poetic work, hating each other but at the same time not being able to let go.

The whole thing was brilliant. I took some video snippets but the visuals were just backs of heads, so here’s a 30 second audio extract of Joe Dunthorne reading, an imagined scene which refers to the fact that Sam Riviere’s poems have no punctuation or capitalisation…

A day at the (Poetry Book) Fair

poetry book fair 2013

Having answered a call for volunteers on Facebook, I found myself yesterday at Conway Hall in London, donning a blue badge and helping out at the Free Verse: Poetry Book Fair.

Organised by Chrissy Williams and CB Editions, with a lot of help also from Joey Connolly, the Fair is in its third year and apparently bigger than ever. I wasn’t sure what to expect but it was quite a crush – and with something like 700 visitors through the door and 50 or so publishers present, I felt nervously close to the epicentre of the poetry world.

When it comes to events I quite enjoy having a job to do, because otherwise I tend to turn up, wander around, not dare to talk to anyone and leave with a sensation that everyone else knows each other and I don’t know anyone. Actually I still felt like I didn’t know anyone, even though I blatantly did – the ever-friendly Mike from the Poetry Society plus several poet friends including Hilda Sheehan, Marion Tracy and Harry Man. I had very nice chats with many of the publishers and by the end of the day had minded shop for Amy from Seren Books and Sophie from Inpress. I even sold a book for Inpress (thanks, Marion!) I introduced myself to Nell Nelson from HappenStance and discovered a poetry press in my own home town that I’d never heard of. Who’d have thunk it?

I nearly bought quite a lot of stuff but in the end restrained myself. On the Templar table I fell for Matt Bryden’s Night Porter, which has got me thinking seriously about how I might group up some of my poems around a distinct theme and enter them for the Iota Shots pamphlet comp.

Then I spent £3 on a set of 4 microbooks from Hazard Press, witty confections and utterly not what I ought to have been buying, but I couldn’t resist.

On the Roncadora Press table, artist Hugh Bryden told me about the processes involved in producing their beautiful publications, all hand-made. I was so, so tempted by Nest – the photo on their site does not do it justice, the whole thing is a wonderful work of art, and they were selling it for just £6. Blimey, that can hardly have paid for the paper.

Astrid Alben

After the publishers had packed up and left, everyone moved over to the pub for an evening of free readings. Although I didn’t stay for them all, I did catch an enjoyable short set from Astrid Alben, reading from her Arc collection Ai! Ai! Pianissimo (memorable or what?) and later on, with a whole army of young male fans in tow, Chris McCabe who read in tandem with Jeremy Reed from their Nine Arches Press publication Whitehall Jackals. Read his blog post about the making of it here. Sorry about the rather grainy pics by the way.

chris mccabe

Chris was the highlight of the evening for me. I loved his poetry and both he and Astrid were readers with real presence – something that’s hard to define and probably impossible to teach, but you kind of know it when you see it. All in all an enjoyable and inspirational day.

Poetry & music at The Core

It was a great pleasure to read at the Swindon Shuffle event on Thursday. Our co-host was the lovely Hilda Sheehan of Blue Gate Poets. As well as being a fine poet and prolific writer, Hilda is clearly a major driving force for poetry good in Swindon, and I’m hoping to be able to reciprocate sometime soon and invite her down to Lewes for a reading.

I took with me both my husband and my brother- & sister-in-law who told me they’d never been to a poetry reading before, which made me a tad nervous. I needn’t have been though  – the mix of poetry and music, together with several breaks, meant it was perfect for poetry ‘virgins’.

In the first half we heard talented local up-and-coming Jadine Eagle followed by the experienced and widely published Anna-May Laugher from Reading, and an acoustic set from auralcandy which went down particularly well. Stephen Payne and I read after the break  (great to hear his set – Stephen was picked by Smith’s Knoll for mentoring and publication, so clearly a fine poet) and the evening finished with a two-piece called Wave Dance, playing what my sister-in-law confidently knew to be surfer hippy music (from her cheesecloth and VW Campervan days) which I really enjoyed, especially the fascinating array of percussion instruments, ranging from a hotel desk bell to vintage Fairy Liquid bottles filled with rice.

Swindon Poetry Reading
Top: Robin, Hilda Sheehan, Jadine Eagle. Bottom: Anna May Laugher, Stephen Payne, The Core

I think the four poets each offered something quite different, and mixing it up with music was really fun. Plus, my non-poet guests said they’d had a great time and hadn’t been scared off by anything too hardcore, so that was gratifying. A success all round!

My only reservation about the evening was there not being any alcohol available (The Core is a juice bar) – even though the atmosphere was chilled, people were very friendly and the juices got good reviews. Personally I don’t drink before I read (could’ve killed for a glass of Chardonnay afterwards though), but I appreciate an audience that’s, shall we say, a little loosened up – perhaps that’s churlish of me? Sadly I missed the post-event drink in the pub, as we had to get back to Newbury, but next time hopefully!