David Green
- David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I publish booklets of my own poems, or did. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become. It keeps me out of more trouble than it gets me into. I hope you find at least some of it worthwhile.
Also currently appearing at
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Gender in Poetry
Having been brought up, as it were, 'educated' some might say, at a time when the text was said to stand on its own with no reference to the author, Roland Barthes, Intentional Fallacy and all those orthodoxies were in fashion, I tended for a long time to think that surely poems are verbal constructs made of nouns, verbs, adjectives, punctuation and grammar and such like and these things function in the same way whether put to use by a male or a female practitioner of the art. I probably still think that, or at least can't completely discount such a well-established idea after so long.
I don't see it as a feminist issue or of any political significance. That there are far more men than women in the historical canon of poetry, in English at least, is not something that is going to be easily reversed even if research could find an equivalent female body of work. Perhaps women had better or more important things to do than mooch about and jot down verses. But the politically correct conscience has gone too far when at least one magazine in my memory would publish the figures of poems received from each gender and then, to prove their purity of selection criteria, show that they published a very similar ratio. And Roddy Lumsden, however conscientiously, points out in the introductions of anthologies that he's edited, how close or spot on he's been in achieving a 50-50 split. It shouldn't come to that. Even though we have champions in Tae-Kwan-Do and Iron Triathlon in this country, the shortlist for Sports Personality of the Year was 10 out of 10 blokes. I'd be likely to prefer a triathlete over a golfer any day but media coverage doesn't agree but ideally we would be above this tokenism and quota system. If I had to select 10 poems from a big pile and found I'd picked almost all women, I wouldn't go back to try and fit some more men in, I'd trust my first instincts.
But there might be a discernible difference between poems written by men and women, a general, unquantifiable but nonetheless perceptible way in which men might be represented perhaps by a tendency towards 'ideas', in Virginia Woolf's phrase about the 'arid scimitar' of the male while women might sometimes concern themselves more with describing an emotional response. Is that fair. Does it hold any useful truth at all, or is it a lazy stereotype. Providing just one or two examples that contradict it wouldn't immediately destroy a basic acceptance that there is as broad difference.
Could Tall Nettles by Edward Thomas have been written by a lady. Do some poems by Sylvia seem so syntactically tough and hard-edged that they might have been written by men. I hope it doesn't work like that and I'm absolutely sure that there can be no litmus test, so I'm still optimistic that my first instinct, or that thing instilled by purely textual reading, might still be right. And it's much easier to be the one who asks the questions rather than provide the answers.
Monday, 28 November 2011
Rivers
Probably the first thing that came to mind was the Thames inter-textually referenced from Spenser in The Waste Land. Thinking of rivers rather than poets, I remembered the Severn being mentioned in Ivor Gurney a few times. I need to save Gertrude's speech in Hamlet, 'There is a willow grows aslant a brook', because it's just about my favourite bit of Shakespeare and there is an evening on him later in the programme. I think of Kleinzahler on the grey Passaic; Alice Oswald obviously on the Dart and Uncle Ted, too.
But what I'll talk about briefly and read will probably be Douglas Dunn's The River Through the City, cited by Prof. Sean O'Brien as a formative influence and, in fact, now looking more Sean than it does Dunn. And the last section of Andrew Motion's Fresh Water, a poem following the Thames from Lechlade to the Marchioness disaster which I've enthused about on here before.
But if anyone has other rivers in poetry they can suggest, my e-mail box is always open and I'd be glad to hear them.
Sunday, 27 November 2011
Murakami - 1Q84
Friday, 25 November 2011
Top 6 Cyclists
This Top 6 feature began, as I'm sure longstanding readers will remember, as a poetry item in which someone, and it was inevitably nearly always me, selected a Top 6 poems by a favourite or major poet.
The website was called David Green Books to make the world aware, if it cared to be, of my books- okay, booklets- of poems. That became a books website as I began to review other books of poems and any other books I felt like. And, then, it became my 'blog', although, lordjesussaveus, I didn't intend to be a 'blogger'. But it's a little while since we had the Top 6 of any poet. Please send me one if you feel the urge or inspiration to do such a thing.
But this week I had reason to refer to the tremendous document I was presented with as a 'This Is Your Life' album on my 50th birthday a couple of years ago and in it was this photograph, which I find it hard to believe is me, on what was presumably my first bike. The bike that I began on before flirting with cycling as a sport as a teenager and then reverting to in my thirties with great dedication, enormous stamina but no electrifying speed. It's all over now. It's been over for a few years really. It was tremendous while it lasted and the most enjoyable thing one could have done - the countryside, the effort, the concentration, the mediocre achievement and, mostly, the lie in the bath afterwards.
But I am not, even though pictured here, one of my own Top 6 cyclists. According to the rules of the game, one isn't supposed to name any but the six and I'll adhere to that while paying tribute to my biggest influence, my father, Phil, who organized and kept the stopwatch meticulously for many years while keeping riding to the age of 74 and counting, and my nephew, Chris Chadwick, who decided he'd just nip up from Land's End to John O'Groats last year for the sake of it. I took the opportunity to introduce Chris to the great Phil Griffiths at the Tour of Britain in London this year. Phil is a droll and witty man in his way but when told that Chris had done the End to End, he just asked 'why?'.
Ah, yes, Phil. Good question. I'm not often short of a clever remark when one is required but I wish I'd asked, 'but you went to the Commonwealth Games in, was it, 1974. Why?'
Anyway, that's all sorted, then. Top 6 cyclists. There's lots of different sorts of bike riders. The track is a dull, muscular and attritional game. I was a quaint old time triallist with some regard for the clubman but the grand tours provide the enormous heroes if and when we are ever allowed to distinguish the rider and his personality from the drugs they're taking.
Early top hero and dynamic little exponent of the 25 mile time trial on every course available on Sunday mornings within a wide radius of Gloucester in the 1970's was Ted Tedaldi, who was all that a junior schoolboy could want of a hero. A bit of style and swagger and he even said hello to me. The claret and gold of Gloucester City CC were never worn with more panache.
Panache and sometimes, it has to be said, vainglorious time spent in full view of the television camera was Jacky Durand's raison d'etre, if you'll excuse my French, as he made countless attempts to escape the peloton in the Tour de France and any other race he found himself in. The best story about him was when a younger rider went back to ask Jacky's advice in the Tour. Should he attempt a lone break or not. I don't know what else he was expecting the answer to be.
The young me idloized the dark-haired winner of the day, Eddy Merckx. I had a goldfish named after him. It's impossible to compare sportspersons from one age to another but the race most bike racing supporters would like to see would be Eddy v. Lance. Without drugs, if that would ever have been possible.
Mark Cavendish is currently sensational and should remain so for a few more years yet. Never previously a devoted admirer of the art of the sprinter, he has changed my mind. It's brilliant what he does and every accolade should fall to him. The economic crisis is not going to cause a revolution in this country but if he's not Sports Personailty of the Year then there is no point in having it.
Janet Tebbutt wasn't Beryl Burton by any means but we saw her through Gloucester one night in the early 70's on her way to setting new figures for Land's End to John O'Groats for a lady and you'd never meet such a modest and charming lady even if they weren't a sensational bike rider. Although my 12 Hour record appears to show that I beat the great Andy Cook three times out of three because he packed every year from 1994-6, it's probably a greater honour that I rode in the same races as her. And then, of course, she kept on doing it after I was finished.
And with only one choice left and yet a host of candidates to choose from, it's never easy but let's have Gwen Shillaker, who showed me more than anyone how to ride a 12 Hour. I mean, I didn't exactly have a pink bike to match my outfit but I saw how, throughout the long afternoon, while piling up a respectable mileage, she waved and smiled and was nice. I think we had a bit of a laugh towards the end of my best rides, too, once we knew the result was in the bag. She was where I learnt it from.
I would still, honestly, rather be a cyclist than a poet.
The Saturday Nap Week Six
I almost thought we might have to swerve tomorrow completely as I won't be getting involved in the Hennessey Gold Cup, there are some big stars at long odds-on in various places and although the Fighting Fifth Hurdle at Newcastle is usually our type of race, I'm not a fan of Binocular but can't bet against him either.
But the only firm with prices chalked up so far on Newcastle's 1.10 are going 13/8 Allthekingshorses and if something like that is available in the morning, it will probably do.
It will be the selection unless replaced with other advice by 11.30 in the morning.
Wednesday, 23 November 2011
Leonardo Exhibition
Monday, 21 November 2011
View from the Boundary - Peter Reading Special
Saturday, 19 November 2011
Basil D'Oliveira
Friday, 18 November 2011
The Saturday Nap Week Five
Last week it seemed to be very much the larger Cheltenham obstacles that prevented a very willing and able Restless Harry from continuing our run of success but excuses don't pay out and I realize that we do need to get back on track immediately having only ostensibly tipped an 8/11 winner in the last three weeks.
There is a tremendous day's racing in prospect tomorrow and that more or less means for the unwary that one is a likely fall guy for lots of old bookmaker's tricks like showing you good horses that you've won on before that you assume are going to be lucky for you again. But the question in a horse race is not 'which is the best horse in this race' but 'which one is going to win today'. Long Run is unlikely to stay unbeaten throughout the season and first time up against some who might be fitter and aimed more specifically at lesser prizes than Kempton on Boxing Day or the Cheltenham Gold Cup could be the time he's most likely to not come first but by which horse he will be bested is hard to say and I'm not going to say Weird Al although I'd like to.
There are such tempting propositions as the return of an old favourite like Get Me Out of Here but there must be safer options and it looks as if in the morning I'll be choosing between Grandouet and Oscar Whisky. In fact, you'd think both should be short-priced good things. I'm happy enough to take the even money about Oscar Whisky, Ascot 2.45, now and unless I've posted a change of mind by 11.30 in the morning, that has to be the tip.
Best Poetry 2011
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Abbado Mozart 39 & 40
Saturday, 12 November 2011
Bach B Minor Mass
The Saturday Nap Week Four
Friday, 11 November 2011
The Saturday Nap Preview
Beverley Knight - 100%
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
The Shortlists - Best Poem and Best Collection 2011
We could add in further mentions for Best Event and Best Novel. In which case Tasmin Little's Naked Violin recital in Portsmouth in the summer wins a helluva classy affair for Best Event, holding on in a compelling battle with the Glyndebourne Rinaldo at the Proms and Natalie Clein's Cadogan Hall Prom as well as Muldoon, O'Brien and Harsent at Cheltenham. But one appeciates what a good year it must have been when The Tallis Scholars make the effort to come all the way down to a cultural outpost like Portsmouth and don't even get shortlisted for their trouble.
Julian Barnes would probably get the verdict over Hollinghurst for being a somehow better done job in the Novel but I also enjoyed the re-issue of Patrick Hamilton's Twopence Coloured and they could all be surpassed by Murakami's 1Q84, which I am halfway through as yet but does look like his best work and is proving most worthy of the time it is taking.
But the real issue is the poetry and I'll leave you with the shortlists before returning with the answers some time later. There is no point including anything on the shortlist if they aren't potential winners and so I will keep the shortlists short. Only to say that Sasha Dugdale narrowly misses out on a place on the Best Collection list and so is compensated with a Best Poem contender.
Best Poem
Judy Brown, The Helicopter Visions
Sasha Dugdale, Plainer Sailing (Alzheimer's)
David Harsent, Ghosts
Martin Mooney, Dream of the Fisherman's Wife
Sean O'Brien, Elegy
Best Collection
David Harsent, Night
Roddy Lumsden, Terrific Melancholy
Martin Mooney, The Resurrection of the Body at Killysuggen
I'm fairly sure that the answers have finally been decided upon but I'll let it simmer for a while and if you come back next week the winners might have been announced by then.
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
Stephin Merritt - Obscurities
Michael
And now it might be read at the Catholic Cathedral in Portsmouth at the funeral. It's a strange feeling.
Michael
The world enjoys some showmanship, bravado,
A challenge to reticence done with style.
There’s no point having rules if you obey them
And the way it’s done defines the man.
We know that everything is temporary,
That even kings can only briefly reign.
Some go bravely, unwilling to concede it,
And fly south forever into the sun.
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Judy Brown - Loudness
I didn't even notice Judy Brown in the Identity Parade crowds last year and it took a while before her poem in Best British Poetry 2011 revealed itself as a favourite. This was not love at first sight.
But The Helicopter Visions in this year's anthology demands attention once it makes itself known. Judy Brown's effect is often through visual effects and
How the dawn breaks open, orange and fatal,
like a pomegranate landing on concrete.
is almost too good. You can imagine a creative writing group loving it like mad. But there's a deft use of phrase and cadence, an easy modulation between perspectives and a confident exploration of the strangeness highlighted in the book's epigram, 'a man needs only to be turned round once with his eyes shut in this world to be lost' (Thoreau, Walden).
As a debut volume, one can trace a bit of autobiography in the youthful readiness for booze, romantic encounter, travel and London. And there's a relationship or two that's done with, possibly acrimoniously. But, the other stand-out poem is from a similar but less elevated vantage point, not in a helicopter but cataloguing the detritus seen on top of bus shelters from the top deck of the bus.
As in The Helicopter Visions, Sky Burial brings her to the thought that she interpreting code in what she sees. But there only appears to be an enjoyment of gentle mystification, an appreciation of possible beauty when in fact, much of the book is set in ordinary places and times. She finds extraordinary things where others might find none.
In Dignity,
In the toilet you fall in love
with your own boozy sweetness.
I know. I know.
One day someone might get a degree for counting how many times the collection mentions 'water', whether as tears, a constituent part of the body, a drink or geographical feature. Then its significance might be set against the latent resentment that flickers under so many of the poems. It might or might not mean anything. Nothing, it seems, needs to mean anything these days but this is a memorable and telling collection that will keep many of us interested to see in which direction the difficult second album takes us.
Saturday, 5 November 2011
The Saturday Nap Week Three
I did usher you in the direction of the safest race to bet on last week and the favourite duly obliged but the tip was a more ambitious 6/1 shot which probably in all honesty wasn't going to win when impeded just when it was making a forward move but that clearly wasn't part of the plan.So, this week, it's back to first principles and if you can get the even money or better about Silvianiaco Conti, Sandown 2.15, then there was no disgrace in his third place on chasing debut behind two top prospects and this time he'll open his steeplechase account.
Volcan Surprise, Sandown 2.15, will have to be scrutinized for confidence in the movement of his price later in the morning because a juvenile hurdle with a number of unraced horses in the field is not quite the open and shut case one might hope but there might be a double to be had if it looks solid.