Monday, October 10, 2016

Angela Carter's unknown poems reveal the celebrated writer's passion for verse

Angela Carter's unknown poems reveal the celebrated writer's passion for verse

The discovery of unpublished work by the feminist writer sheds new light on her literary development
Vanessa Thorpe, arts and media correspondent
Sunday 13 March 2011 00.04 GMT

A series of unknown poems by the novelist and subversive essayist Angela Carter, discovered at her former London home, have revealed a previously unknown passion that casts new light on her development as a novelist.
Carter, who died of lung cancer at the age of 51 in 1992, was one of Britain's most celebrated authors and remains a leading voice in feminist fiction, but her poetry has never been professionally published or widely studied. In the 1970s and 1980s she was at the forefront of fabulist or magical narrative work. She is perhaps best remembered for the collection of short stories, The Bloody Chamber, which Carter later adapted successfully for the screen as The Company of Wolves, directed by Neil Jordan.
Carter's friends, including Salman Rushdie, former poet laureate Andrew Motion, publisher Carmen Callil, and the writer and historian Marina Warner, had no idea the author had started out in the 1960s with determined ambitions as a poet. "She came out of the very un-English tradition of Grimm fairy stories and European Gothic and then made a kind of English version of this," said Rushdie. "I did always think of her as a magical writer and in these poems you see how much she was already there. All the iconography of her later fabulism seems to be there."

Friends and admirers of Carter assess her newly unearthed poems in a Radio 4 programme broadcast this afternoon and presented by the writer's literary executor, Susannah Clapp, the Observer's theatre critic.
"After Angela died I went into her office inside her house in Clapham. I found an old, grey filing cabinet jammed with work. I hoped, of course, I would find a few new short stories or a novel. But then I found her journals," said Clapp this weekend. "These are largely work journals, rather than diaries, and they list what Angela was reading and watching at the time. But embedded in them are more than a dozen poems, some completely scored through and some delicately revised."
The poems were written at the beginning of Carter's life as a writer, before her first novel, Shadow Dance, was published in 1966. The journals that contain them are school exercise books decorated with a collage of old product labels, cocktail recipes and advertisements for patent medicines. A few of her early verses appeared in her university magazine in Bristol, but Clapp was surprised to find written evidence of her friend's youthful pledge to become a serious poet who would bring imaginative freedom to verse.
Carter's later prose writing has what Clapp describes as an "unforgettably sensuous" voice, coupled with the "sardonic wit" that was to earn her the title of the "White Witch of English Literature". The recovered poems display the same contrasting voluptuousness and sense of humour.
"The striking thing about them, as Andrew Motion says, is that she really does seem to have been a poet, rather than just writing lines that would prefigure the novels she was to write," said Clapp. "Although there are many of the same themes there, such as the importance of fairytales and the sceptical treatment of the relationships between men and women, and language that is very sensual, there is definitely an intensity that her fans will recognise."
Motion, who worked as Carter's literary editor at the publishing house Chatto and Windus, recalls seeing the writer arrive at their London offices, looking "as if she had been blown in by a hurricane". She had strong opinions and a naturally questioning stance. "You weren't going to get away with anything. And this was a very strong and very appealing thing about her," said Motion.
The poet believes the discovery of the poems will bring new readers to Carter's work. Ten years ago, he says, the writer was the subject of more academic theses and doctorates than perhaps any other British writer. "This is not true any more and we need to remember her," he adds. The poems are worthy of study, he says. "It is difficult, though, not to think she is looking around for things she could do later, probably more successfully, in the novels." The earliest poems are prolix, or full of what Motion calls "word eruptions", but he finds the later poems strike a "balance between the murkiness and the clarity".
Motion sees Carter as a comic writer who saw the life of the universe as an awful joke, "or rather, awful and a joke". When appointed literary executor, Clapp was instructed by Carter simply to "make money for my boys" (her son and her second husband Mark Pearce). Inside the bulging filing cabinet Clapp also found an unproduced version of Frank Wedekind's Lulu, the libretto of an unfinished opera based on Virginia Woolf's surreal novel Orlando and several screenplays. Her other main find was a rich stash of Carter's paintings.
"I did know that she painted, but I found lots of her lovely, brightly coloured work. It is a little like Georgia O'Keefe's work, with lots of open flowers and some pictures of cats too, which she loved."
Carter's great love of verse was evident at her funeral when Salman Rushdie read Andrew Marvell's poem On a Drop of Dew at her own request.



Saturday, October 8, 2016

Odes to roads, sausages and other English icons penned for National Poetry Day


Odes to roads, sausages and other English icons penned for National Poetry Day

Organisers of the annual celebration have commissioned works giving voice to local landmarks in ‘a lyrical mapping of the English landscape’

Alison Flood
Thursday 6 October 2016 07.00 BST

From the “worst road in Britain”, the “Essex/Suffolk artery” of the A12, to Leicester’s Golden Mile via a Lincolnshire sausage, a host of poets have adopted the voices of local landmarks in order to mark Thursday’s National Poetry Day.
Channelling WH Auden, who wrote that a poet’s hope is “to be, like some valley cheese, local, but prized elsewhere”, the 40 poets were commissioned by BBC local radio to dream up poems in the voices of local landmarks. Luke Wright takes on Suffolk, plumping for the A12, “England’s crude appendix scar … salt-baked, pot-holed, choked with cars”, which will “take you from the fug and sprawl / to Suffolk’s icy brine and foam”.
Lucy Ayrton writes about the Eagle and Child pub in Oxford, and Akshay Sharma takes on Leicester’s Golden Mile of restaurants, writing of how: “My pavements are infused with molecules of spice, rice and diced onions,/Concoctions of flavours from neighbours’ kitchens/and ageless mixtures of this that and the other.”

“They said I could choose what I wanted, and the clock tower jumped out at me first – it’s an old, famous landmark in the centre of town, and I was going to do something on time,” said Sharma, who is Indian. “But I thought instead of something closer to me and my heritage and culture: the Golden Mile. People come from all over to see it and to shop and eat there.”
Gemma Baker, meanwhile, adopts the voice of a Lincolnshire sausage for her contribution, which includes these poignant lines: “my happiness fell still / as one by one they fed my family / into the grill,” before adding that “in shock and grief I rolled to the floor / convinced there may be something more / than an early cremation / I launched myself / in aim of Lincoln station.”
The poems are being broadcast on BBC local radio’s 40 stations, in what organisers of National Poetry Day said was “an unprecedented lyrical mapping of the English landscape”.
“When you hear a poem about a place, that place changes: poetry puts it on the imagination’s map. Westminster Bridge and Tintern Abbey were transformed in the public mind when Wordsworth wrote about them, just as much as the White Cliffs of Dover were transformed when Vera Lynn sang about them,” said Susannah Herbert, the director of the event, which is run by the charity the Forward Arts Foundation.
“National Poetry Day’s collaboration with the BBC local poets makes the whole nation look at itself in a different way: we hope it inspires countless local acts of celebration. These 40 poems – and the thousands they will inspire – mean that beloved local landmarks that have been taken for granted will become part of … the nation known and cherished by the imagination.”
The theme for this year is “messages”, with organisers inviting the public to “say it with a poem”, whether that’s “thank you”, “sorry” or “I love you”. Events are taking place around the country, from Sally Crabtree in Staffordshire who is using carrier pigeons to fly verse across the skies as the world’s first “poetry postie”, to St Pancras International’s transformation into “poetry central”, with poetry-printed train tickets given to travellers and poet-storytellers drawing commuters into immersive experiences.“National Poetry Day’s collaboration with the BBC local poets makes the whole nation look at itself in a different way: we hope it inspires countless local acts of celebration. These 40 poems – and the thousands they will inspire – mean that beloved local landmarks that have been taken for granted will become part of … the nation known and cherished by the imagination.”
The day will kick off with Prince Charles’s reading of Seamus Heaney’s poem The Shipping Forecast on the Today programme, a recording created for a new Northern Irish community centre, Home Place, which celebrates the late Nobel laureate’s life and work. It will also be marked with a special postmark from the Royal Mail, while on Channel 4 and More 4, poems from young refugee and migrant poets including 19-year-old Afghan Shukria Rezaei and 18-year-old Vivien Urban, originally from Hungary, will replace the introduction on the idents throughout the day.
Edinburgh will feature an answerphone turning anonymous messages into poems, while Wales will see four young poets composing 100 poems in 24 hours, taking suggestions for subjects from social media and BBC Radio Cymru.
Further afield in Antarctica, British Antarctic Survey scientists will be reading a climate change poem by Nancy Campbell to the penguins.
“A poem can reach places that prose just can’t,” said Herbert. “That’s why we’re inviting all with anything important to say today, to say it with a poem. It can be new or old, utterly original or a familiar favourite. It can be deep and dark, funny or memorable. By enjoying, discovering or sharing a poem – words that draw attention to themselves – you change the nature of the national conversation.”





Thursday, September 29, 2016

Grace Paley / That Country




That Country
BY GRACE PALEY
BIOGRAPHY


This is about the women of that country
Sometimes they spoke in slogans
They said
       We patch the roads as we patch our sweetheart’s trousers   
       The heart will stop but not the transport
They said
       We have ensured production even near bomb craters   
       Children let your voices sing higher than the explosions
                                                    of the bombs
They said
       We have important tasks to teach the children
       that the people are the collective masters
       to bear hardship
       to instill love in the family
       to guide the good health of the children (they must
       wear clothing according to climate)
They said
       Once men beat their wives
       now they may not
       Once a poor family sold its daughter to a rich old man   
       now the young may love one another
They said
       Once we planted our rice any old way
       now we plant the young shoots in straight rows
       so the imperialist pilot can see how steady our
       hands are

In the evening we walked along the shores of the Lake   
                                                of the Restored Sword

I said   is it true?   we are sisters?   
They said   Yes, we are of one family

Grace Paley
Begin Again: The Collected Poems of Grace Paley. 
Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2000



Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Grace Paley / Autumn




Autumn
BY GRACE PALEY
BIOGRAPHY


1 

What is sometimes called a   
   tongue of flame 
or an arm extended burning   
   is only the long 
red and orange branch of   
   a green maple 
in early September   reaching 
   into the greenest field 
out of the green woods   at the 
   edge of which the birch trees   
appear a little tattered   tired 
   of sustaining delicacy 
all through the hot summer   re- 
   minding everyone (in   
our family) of a Russian 
   song   a story 
by Chekhov   or my father 


2 

What is sometimes called a   
   tongue of flame 
or an arm extended   burning 
   is only the long 
red and orange branch of 
   a green maple 
in early September   reaching   
   into the greenest field 
out of the green woods   at the   
   edge of which the birch trees 
appear a little tattered   tired 
   of sustaining delicacy 
all through the hot summer   re- 
   minding everyone (in   
our family) of a Russian 
   song   a story by 
Chekhov or my father on 
   his own lawn   standing   
beside his own wood in 
   the United States of   
America   saying (in Russian) 
   this birch is a lovely 
tree   but among the others 
   somehow superficial 


Grace Paley
Begin Again: The Collected Poems of Grace Paley 
The Feminist Press, 1999



Saturday, September 24, 2016

Grace Paley / On Mother´s Day




On Mother’s Day
BY GRACE PALEY
BIOGRAPHY


I went out walking 
in the old neighborhood 

Look! more trees on the block   
forget-me-nots all around them   
ivy   lantana shining 
and geraniums in the window 

Twenty years ago 
it was believed that the roots of trees 
would insert themselves into gas lines 
then fall   poisoned   on houses and children 

or tap the city’s water pipes   starved   
for nitrogen   obstruct the sewers 

In those days in the afternoon I floated   
by ferry to Hoboken or Staten Island   
then pushed the babies in their carriages   
along the river wall   observing Manhattan   
See Manhattan I cried   New York! 
even at sunset it doesn’t shine 
but stands in fire   charcoal to the waist 

But this Sunday afternoon on Mother’s Day 
I walked west   and came to Hudson Street   tricolored flags   
were flying over old oak furniture for sale 
brass bedsteads   copper pots and vases 
by the pound from India 

Suddenly before my eyes   twenty-two transvestites   
in joyous parade stuffed pillows under   
their lovely gowns 
and entered a restaurant 
under a sign which said   All Pregnant Mothers Free 

I watched them place napkins over their bellies   
and accept coffee and zabaglione 

I am especially open to sadness and hilarity   
since my father died as a child   
one week ago in this his ninetieth year

Grace Paley
Begin Again: The Collected Poems of Grace Paley
Farrar, Straus and Giroux



Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Grace Paley / House: Some Instructions



House: Some Instructions

Related Poem Content Details

If you have a house 
you must think about it all the time   
as you reside in the house so 
it must be a home in your mind 

you must ask yourself (wherever you are)   
have I closed the front door 

and the back door is often forgotten   
not against thieves necessarily 

but the wind   oh   if it blows   
either door open   then the heat 

the heat you’ve carefully nurtured   
with layers of dry hardwood 

and a couple of opposing green   
brought in to slow the fire 

as well as the little pilot light   
in the convenient gas backup 

all of that care will be mocked because   
you have not kept the house on your mind 

but these may actually be among   
the smallest concerns   for instance 

the house could be settling   you may   
notice the thin slanting line of light 

above the doors   you have to think about that   
luckily you have been paying attention 

the house’s dryness can be humidified   
with vaporizers in each room and pots 

of water on the woodstove   should you leave   
for the movies after dinner   ask yourself 

have I turned down the thermometer 
and moved all wood paper away from the stove 

the fiery result of excited distraction   
could be too horrible to describe 

now we should talk especially to Northerners   
of the freezing of the pipe   this can often 

be prevented by pumping water continuously   
through the baseboard heating system 

allowing the faucet to drip drip continuously   
day and night   you must think about the drains 

separately   in fact you should have established   
their essential contribution to the ordinary 

kitchen and toilet life of the house   
digging these drains deep into warm earth 

if it hasn’t snowed by mid-December you   
must cover them with hay   sometimes rugs 

and blankets have been used   do not be   
troubled by their monetary value 

as this is a regionally appreciated emergency   
you may tell your friends to consider 

your house as their own   that is   
if they do not wear outdoor shoes 

when thumping across the gleam of their poly- 
urethaned floors they must bring socks or slippers 

to your house as well   you must think   
of your house when you’re in it and 

when you’re visiting the superior cabinets   
and closets of others   when you approach 

your house in the late afternoon 
in any weather   green or white   you will catch 

sight first of its new aluminum snow-resistant   
roof and the reflections in the cracked windows 

its need in the last twenty-five years for paint   
which has created a lovely design 

in russet pink and brown   the colors of un- 
intentioned neglect   you must admire the way it does not 

(because of someone’s excellent decision 
sixty years ago) stand on the high ridge deforming 

the green profile of the hill but rests in the modesty   
of late middle age under the brow of the hill with 

its back to the dark hemlock forest looking steadily 
out for miles toward the cloud refiguring meadows and 

mountains of the next state   coming up the road 
by foot or auto the house can be addressed personally 

House!   in the excitement of work and travel to 
other people’s houses with their interesting improvements 

we thought of you often and spoke of your coziness 
in winter   your courage in wind and fire   your small 

airy rooms in humid summer   how you nestle in spring 
into the leaves and flowers of the hawthorn and the sage green 

leaves of the Russian olive tree   House!   you were not forgotten

Grace Paley
Begin Again: The Collected Poems of Grace Paley. C
Farrar Straus and Giroux, 2000