I was recently lucky enough to feature on Jude Cowan Montague and Rob Edwards’ Resonance FM show The News Agents (you can listen to the recording here). Mark Waldron and I were asked to create new poetry in response to specific news events. Mark can be heard reading his excellent piece on North Korean photo censorship via the above link.
I wrote in response to the Russian gay ‘propaganda’ laws in the run-up to the Sochi Winter Olymics, which begins today. In particular, I focused on the entrapment, kidnapping and videoed torture of gay Russians, which has escalated since the law was passed. You can hear me reading it on the show, and here’s the poem in readable form. I recommend following English PEN for updates on the campaign to repeal this law.
Troika
A scared boy before the video camera: all Vasilisa, broomed into the woods to fetch a light. To tell Mother Russia what he likes. They say, tell them what you like. And his face is burning, is a landscape of purple mountains. And his ribs are raw, and he says, Russia, you may as well kill me. Or he may as well have done.
Or this one, dragged into a van and sped out by a would-be hookup who turns, in the dark and the rumble of traffic, into a six-armed, hard-handed insect; is legion; is painting him blue, white and bloody; is beating him hard like a balalaika; is smiling and waving; saluting the morning; is forcing him open with a bottle and a bat.
Or this one. Or this one. Naked on their knees or gagged with a watermelon, shaved, doused in urine. What the state does not allow they do not do. And it is all for the children. For Russia. So see him admitting his devilry, rainbowed in bruising; made to brandish a dildo like a slow-dying torch.
The coincidences of life. Would you believe that while I was uploading Harry Giles‘ review of MacGillivray‘s The Last Wolf of Scotland, I also happened to be listening to Wolf (& Fytch)? You don’t know what I’m talking about? You wouldn’t, of course. Most people consider this topic boring, and the result is that when I speak of it whoops look how late it is I’ve gotta go to the Post Office. You get me.
Mortality Rate contains an abundance of the kind of pieces that are really half poem, half something else. The something else in this case is seedy, surreal, almost noir-ish microfiction, taking place at night, in cities and liminal spaces, in Europe and America. Long, loping lines abound, sex is handled in a kind of rough, frank way, and the same pair of female characters turn up in multiple poems, stripped to various states. It’s a very generous volume, written mostly in a voice that delights in taking winding detours. Highly recommended for quiet winter nights with a whisky.
Since its founding in 1998 by Dave Eggers, McSweeney’s has grown into a publishing empire in its own right, with flagship literary journal Timothy McSweeney’s Quarterly Concern being joined by other titles like the monthly The Believer, food quarterly Lucky Peach and sport journal Grantland Quarterly. One of the publishing house’s most recent imprints is the McSweeney’s Poetry Series, of which Rebecca Lindenberg’s Love, an Index is the first title. The collection chronicles Lindenberg’s relationship with fellow poet Craig Arnold, who disappeared in 2009 during a solo hike in Japan. A strong debut for Lindenberg and the series, Love, an Index embraces the elegy form, and in poems like ‘Status Update’ and ‘Status Update (2)’, reworks it for the Facebook generation. The standout moment of the collection, however, is the titular sequence that occupies the middle third of the book. An alphabetical indexing of Lindenberg and Arnold’s relationship, the poems are brutally beautiful, ruthlessly detailing minutiae in the wake of her loss. Joining other poetry collections about losing a partner like Douglas Dunn’s Elegies and Paul Monette’s Love Alone: 18 Elegies for Rog, Lindenberg’s Love, an Index shows the mind of the poet at work, transmuting personal tragedy into powerful art.
3. TREEDS: POEMS IN SHETLAND DIALECT byLaureen Johnson
Published by the Hansel Cooperative Press; buy here.
Reviewed by Harry Giles
Treeds is one of a small but rich crop of chapbooks from Hansel Co-operative Press, a small-scale outfit publishing and promoting writing and art of Orkney and Shetland. Printed on good thick stock and gorgeously hand-finished, the chapbook is pocket-sized but big-hearted. The writing is vernacular Shetlandic – not a synthetic Scots, but a language very much alive and rooted in place and culture. The fine glossary is a neat guide to those new to the language, though not burdensome or pedantic, making the poems an excellent route into Shetlandic for those willing to put in some small effort.
The poems cover family and livelihood, land and water; the title piece (meaning “threads”) describes a weaving together of place and person into a poetics of sense and feeling. The unrhymed lines advance in breaths, matching the everyday language used; the sense is of being given stories and wisdom honed by time and wind, though never is this hoary or slight. The tone is as much humorous as delicate, and often very sad in its simplicity – as in Gynae Ward:
“Nae prenk, damned little pent,
nae comouflage,
Here da oppenin bud, da faded leaf,
da prunin shears.”
Pamphlet publishing is a source of diversity in contemporary poetry, and local presses a way to meet outlying poetics on their own terms. Treedsis a long way – in style and language – from what you’re likely to find in more urban-centred anthologies and magazines, and so, along with Hansel’s wider output, demands your attention for its particular music and beauty.
It’s amazing the things you can come across when you type poetry titles into Google Images. I’ve just found out that Dear Boy, which is a book by Emily Berry, is also a manga series about young Japanese men playing basketball (I’m not going to make fun of that, you can’t, it would be like shooting on the red cross). Go figure the connection. I was wondering whether Berry might not have been inspired by that particular comic, but Judi Sutherlandassures me that’s not the case in her review.
It’s about something else entirely. *sigh* …still waiting for someone to pull off an epic poem about Naruto…
(Well, as much as it’s possible for his charred heart to feel something akin to love.)
We want to say a big, big thank you to the 97 people who Kickstarted our Coin Opera II anthology all the way to the printers. Poetry meets computer games in a dual-covered, multi-levelled spectacular that’s hot-foiled like a demon. It’s everything we hoped it would be, and it’s thanks to you.
The main books have been sent already and we’re working on the finer details of the deluxe editions for higher-level backers. Expect those as soon as they’ve wriggled from the cauldron.
So here is a rundown of the kindly souls that caused Dr F to twitch in a smile-like fashion. There are lot of very deserving Kickstarters out there, and we really appreciate your backing. So without further ado, COII: Fulminare’s Revenge was brought to you by:
Chris Larkin Megen de Bruin-Molé Robin Beitra Stuart Lister Ian Cartland Katy Whitehead Christopher Webb Abigail Parry Matteo Gilebbi Alex MacDonald Bob Thulfram John Clegg Aiko Harman Angela Cleland Isobel Dixon Paul Duggan Kathryn Lewis Dana Bubulj Claire Trévien Rob Jones Robert Sneezum Kate Whaite Dan Griliopoulos Dean Bowman Tori Truslow Peter Keogh Richard Penlington Jens Theeß Erica Marfell Lewis James Burt Team Minecraftia Maya Berger Carly Lightfoot Christopher Kelly J Henderson Daniel Holmberg Chris Pressl John Saylor Rab Green Ben Wilkinson Alex Brown Ryan Van Winkle Geoffrey Scaplehorn James Ward Joy Stone Rod Whitworth Coral Dyer James Midgley Alister Wedderburn Michael Nørskov Patrick Vickers Harry Giles Darren Grey Alex Spencer Samuel Prince Esther Saxey Simon Richards Al Kennedy Nigel Gilbert Helen Lewis Thomas Sieben Cliff Hammett Dan Whitehead Harry Man Chris McCluskey Chris Hogan Michael Nanthachack Francine Rubin Patrick JS Chelsea Cargill Ian Chung Oliver Burrows Sam Williams Greg Young TeraTelnet, aka Nathan Darcy Alex Pena Vladimir Roth Taylor Morris Paul Smout Elliott Finn Henry Osadzinski Barry Donovan Neil Aitken Eloise Stonborough Matthew Haigh Theodoros Chiotis Chrissy Williams Andrea Tallarita Matt Cummins Robert Harper Alex Moser Richard Watt Skye Nathaniel Schiefer Mark Taormino James Love Laurie Wilson
and last but not least, the legendary Violet Berlin.
***
Stuck for a present for the gamer or poet in your life? Coin Opera II: Fulminare’s Revenge can be ordered at drfulminare.com/coinoperaii.php.
Angela, Sidekick Books’ latest team-up pamphlet, was recently launched at Drink, Shop & Do, King’s Cross. The event took place in a room divided from the main bar by an open doorway. The sound system broadcast to the whole floor, so when Sidekick took the mic, those in the main bar who were not attending the launch, could nonetheless both see and hear it. This set-up struck me as symbolic of the poetry market. In the event room were people who bought poetry books. They were mainly poets, I think. In the bar area were the general public – not poets, not buyers of poetry books. They could apprehend what was going on, but they were not part of it. Nor did they attempt to enter the event room. That night at least, they could see poetry was there, but it wasn’t for them.
Recently, I have been trying to cross this divide, to find out if the public will buy poetry pamphlets. My motivation stems primarily from a feeling that the poetry scene is too insular. I imagine we all get into writing because we want to communicate. However, communication with an apparently indifferent public requires a great deal of effort, and it can seem like many professional poets refocus their aspirations on playing pass-the-parcel with prizes and arts jobs. Accepting prize money as a consolation for reaching a tiny audience doesn’t seem to me satisfactory. We have to work harder to communicate, to reach the non-poetry-buying public.
Angela has a Sidekick stable-mate, a spoof public information booklet created by myself and Phil Cooper entitled Confronting the Danger of Art. Over the last few months, I have taken a microphone and a portable amp down to Southbank, and busked the pamphlet outside Tate Modern. This is one of the few spaces in London which can be worked by street performers and I regularly have to compete for attention with bands, Hare Krishna dancers, soap bubble makers and a man dressed as a Viking. I’m not a natural performer, but draw encouragement from the fact that my poet/pamphleteer predecessors include Milton, Blake, Shelley.
So far, I’ve sold around 60 pamphlets this way. Who buys the pamphlet? Art teachers, students, tourists, especially European tourists (which surprised me, given it’s not their native language), general passers-by of all ages. Often people stop to find out what I’m doing. Some ask me if I’m preaching, or say they thought I was a religious nutter. I get a bit of attention from vagrants. There are people who want to take over my microphone and perform to the public. And some think the pamphlet’s anti-art arguments are genuine. One well-spoken old lady who described herself as a journalist and musician told me I was a very dangerous man. When I explained the pamphlet was a spoof, ‘Oh yes, I can see that,’ she said. ‘Who is allowing you to do this? Do the police know?’ Finally, turning to depart: ‘I don’t think you’ll be doing this for much longer.’
I’ve never worked in sales but I’m picking up technique as I go along. I find potential buyers like to be talked to about the pamphlet. It’s not enough that they hear me reciting it, or flick through a copy. They want to have a conversation about it, an interaction with the performer. At first I used to hold back on certain details concerning the pamphlet’s creation, for example the fact that the opening chapter is based on arguments in Plato’s Republic, out of a fear that this might seem over-intellectual. However, often this seems to be the detail that clinches a sale.
The night of Angela’s launch, I took copies of Angela and Confronting the Danger of Art out into the main bar area, and upstairs, to see if I could find any buyers amongst those who were not attending the event. It turned out I could. Overhearing the launch had piqued curiosity. Books, badges and Angela Lansbury masks changed hands. Rather than being fearful of the public’s indifference I think we have to be prepared to go out and approach non-poetry-buyers. How often do we have an opportunity to do this? Well, to quote Angela:
