Poetry Workshop Radio 4

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b012wcln#synopsis

It might not hit the headlines with the same lurid intensity as some of the more graphic and gratuitous horror films have done in the past but Radio 4's new series, which seems to be occasional, and hidden away in the quiet 4.30 Sunday afternoon slot, Poetry Workshop, promises to provide shudders and shivers as harrowing as any of the more mainstream chillers.
Ruth Padel goes to a local poetry workshop and takes part in their discussion of each other's poems. It is one of the cruellest and most difficult things anyone can be put through. Not only for the poet, most of who think that their work is worthy of such scrutiny, but also for the other poets whose turn it isn't, who have to find kind words to say about the poem in question before guardedly and as politely as possible suggesting a minor improvement that might be made in order to transform the lines into a classic.
Cringe by cringe one listens to the poet adopt one of the default poetry reading settings- e.g. soft and caressing, carefully enunciated, deeply in thrall, etc.- and deliver lines they wouldn't dare use with friends and family but seem to think fellow poets will be impressed by. They have worked hard and they do think this is what poetry should be like and so you can hardly blame them but then the precious devices have to be picked over and considered until everyone's been done and they all go home with the happy glow of having been fulfilled.
It really can be quite horrific and for my part I'd rather my poems remained utterly without merit rather than be bandaged and re-made by others into something they thought they liked a bit better. If I like my own poem that is all I need. If anybody else likes it, that's fine but it can't make me feel any better if I don't.
In this first programme, Ruth went to Exeter. I've heard worse poems than all of them but none of them did much for me. It was mostly the usual agony of the process that distracted from any enjoyment. Until the last poem by Rachel McCarthy which sounded promising so I looked her up afterwards. She's only got her own Wikipedia entry, books published and an Arts show on the radio. It's not surprising she came across quite well. Her poem was a different class.
The programme has a gory allure and a grim fascination. It might even have the same effect as a horror film in making it impossible to sleep afterwards. One keeps thinking you heard someone say, 'I really liked the metaphor about the sycamore tree.' There's going to be another one in October. I hope I don't miss it.