Saturday, April 30, 2011

Flo's Own...Poetry: Portrait of the Escapologist, in Macroscopic Quantum State



This poem came to me as a combination of Francis Bacon's painting, and a scene from The Terminator 2 when the Terminator melts, and the drops of liquid start trembling, moving and reamalgamating.


This led to some research into superfluids, photoisomerisation and macroscopic quantum state. All very scientific and I don't understand any of it, but it says what I want it to - 'superfluid' is full of soft slippery sounds, and is perfect for the movement of drops of liquid that I wanted to convey.



First draft, took 30 mins to write after research.





Portrait of the Escapologist, in Macroscopic Quantum State

(After Francis Bacon's 'Seated Figure')



straightjacketed in skin (on a camel's back) i am an acrobat

hulahooping, melting, superfluiding

into the corner, and crawling up the wall...





(c) stays with me, 2011

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

The Thing in the Gap-Stone Stile, by Alice Oswald

Alice Oswald: successful British poet. Her most recent collection is 'A Sleepwalk on the Severn', I think published earlier this year or late 2010. Gap-Stone Stile was her first collection, from years ago. I know she's a well-respected poet but this was the first of her work I have read.

I quite enjoyed it actually. Some of the stuff just didn't do it for me - some of the Sea Sonnets, for example, to my poetic ear just didn't 'sing', and there were aspects of certain poems that irritated me a little - some just didn't ring true, sounded a bit pretentious. But in all I really liked the collection and I can understand why Oswald is as well-respected as she is. I'm sure her later collections are much more fully-formed.

My favourite poems were The Melon Grower, about a man who neglects his family as he cares for his melon plants (I have grown melons myself, and became quite attached to them, so I could sympathise with his predicament!), one about owls in which there was the lovely line 'an owl about the size of a vicar' - loved it. That line really stood out for me, the incongruity of its humour in a poem with a more serious tone - and a couple of poems addressed to the only-just tolerated nextdoor neighbour. For me it was the flashes of humour in the collection, and the human stories that shone, rather than the soliloquising about water and gardens and nature, which is what Oswald is particularly known for. No - those weren't bad, but they didn't move me. Personally, I feel that a nature poem has to absolutely convey a sense of sheer wonder, and the ones in this collection didn't communicate that to me. However, Oswald's softly-spoken but sharp observations of humanity were brilliant.

At the end of the collection is a long poem about three men from the village of Gotham who go to try and catch the moon in a net (and its title is similarly self-explanatory). Strange. Some of the language was interesting, but it didn't speak to me. The poet's message or whatever it was she wanted to communicate went over my head. It seemed to be long and pretentious for the sake of being long and pretentious, and mostly lacked Oswald's otherwise frequent and clever use of half-rhyme. Didn't get it, although I found the explanation of the ideas behind the poem very entertaining and interesting, and intend to research Gotham - and its strange antic disposition - a little further.

In all, an interesting collection, but one that I sometimes found too serious, and occasionally a little obscure and pretentious. However, there were some lovely lyrical lines and the flashes of human lives and humour were a joy to read. I will read this collection again at some point, and I definitely want to read some of Alice Oswald's later works. A 5 or 6 out of 10 for me, but an intriguing and encouraging one.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Charity Shop Books

I have been charity shopping today and found some real treasures! So often I think of books in charity shops as limited to the Maeve Binchies, Clive Cusslers and Good Housekeepings of this world. I forget that I have got some of my most treasured books second hand and many of them from charity shops.

Once I found The Vogue Sewing Book - a massive doorstep of a book - for the princely sum of £1. I was well chuffed. Another best buy is a Haruki Murakami with the most beautifully illustrated cover. Charity shopping can be so satisfying when you strike gold, like I did today.

I wandered into the British Heart Foundation shop in my local town, looking for clothes I could cut up and resew. Nothing that I particularly liked or would wear even once I'd dismantled it. So I wandered to the back of the shop and looked at the books.

It's a miracle I kept on looking. The first things I was confronted with were diets and loads of strange Christian books that rather freaked me out...but soon I realised that just above my head was a poetry and drama section, bigger even than that in the local Waterstones!! (Waterstones' near me is appalling for poetry and drama). There was everything. Donne. Betjeman. Shakespeare. Seamus Heaney's new translation of Beowulf. Emily Dickinson. Loads more that I can't remember but that had my eyes agog. And some literary fiction among the Maeve Binchies and Clive Cusslers. So many of them were brand new, as well. I couldn't believe it! Beautiful books!!

So I came out with a battered but very lovely Penguin Book of Italian Verse (I speak a bit, but luckily there are translations, and anyway, I just want the rhythms of the language, rather than the meaning if I'm honest), Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist and The Thing in the Gap-Stone Stile by Alice Oswald, as well as book on myths for my mum. All cost me £8. That's £2 a book. The Alice Oswald on its own would have cost £8.99 new. Major bargain!!!

So my tip for today is not to dismiss charity shops! They're getting trendy (and ridiculously priced, yes, I am talking about you Cancer Research) for clothes and things but they are also a potential haven for bookworms!

(And thanks so much Crafty Green Poet for the paragraphing solution!)

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Sorry

Sorry about the last two posts. For some reason Blogger won't let me paragraph. I will try and sort it out.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Another classic that I haven't read before, this time an American one. The Great Gatsby is set in the wild, whimsical 20's in New York, and tells the story of Daisy Buchanan and Jay Gatsby in their attempt to restart an old romance. Themes include obsession, reality & dreams, hope, love, memory and the complexity of human relationships.

I really enjoyed this book. It's short and sweet, and despite the fact that it's approaching 100 years old (!) it's modern, easy reading and still relevant to today's society. The presentation of the hedonistic, artificial and wild social scene are particularly memorable and relevant.

But to the book. Scott Fitzgerald was clearly a very talented writer. The book is full of descriptions that virtually made my mouth water - 'frosted wedding cake of the ceiling' is one that particularly sticks in my mind. The conjuring of the heat, business and atmosphere of Long Island was beautiful to read.

I liked the characterisation. From the first chapter you have most of the characters pinned down - Daisy is selfish, carefree, seductive, teasing; Tom is possessive and always wants more; Nick Carraway is an interferer and a user, but not unpleasant. Fitzgerald writes his characters perfectly - from their physical description to their speech, they are presented as full, well-rounded and complete entities.

However, despite the mouth-watering descriptions and skilled characterisations having finished the book it does feel a little...unfinished. I don't mean that the reader is left with questions once the book is finished. Everything wraps up rather messily for the characters, but is very neatly explained. Rather, I feel as if it never got going. The plot...well, was that it? Admittedly towards the end there were a couple of twists which I hadn't been expecting, but mostly it was clear that nothing was going to happen, and then it didn't. And the central and crucially important Gatsby as a character? He was the one character that I felt I didn't know and couldn't sympathise with, undoubtedly due to the mystery he holds for other characters in the book, but in the first chapter Nick says how Gatsby turned out to be a good sort...and I don't think he did. He was just some bloke that turns up, gets in a bit of an emotional muddle, and that's that. It's not that I think the story is shallow or uninteresting or anything like that. It just feels a bit of an anticlimax - a gentle stroll through all the parties etc., a couple of promising revelations and then...diddlysquat. End of book.

Somehow it just never rang true for me. It's the kind of book that I know I will understand differently the next time I read it, the kind that reveals more of itself the more you get to know it. Skilled, beautiful writing, with a wonderful use of unique descriptive language. But lacking something - a bit of zing, some spice. Nowhere near my top 20. But possibly in the top 100 for the descriptions. We shall see.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Bone People by Keri Hulme

Just noticed an absolutely hideous split infinitive in the last post. Oh well.

I just finished The Bone People by Keri Hulme five minutes ago. It has been one heck of a read - took me ages, and is very hefty book, full of hefty ideas and hefty writing techniques...but I really enjoyed it, too. Keri Hulme is a New Zealand writer of mixed heritage - some Maori - and this is her first and only novel, although she writes poetry and short stories. The Bone People tells the story of how Kerewin, an asexual artist, finds herself getting more and more involved with Joe and his adopted son Simon. Simon is a difficult child who does not speak, and Joe is suffering from the loss of his wife and biological son. Their relationship is an abusive one, but at the same time absolutely loving. Their three lives become entwined.

I don't really know what it was that kept me going through this book. It's compelling from about 2/3 of the way through, but beforehand not an awful lot happens, except the presentation of the growing relationships between the characters. However, somehow it gripped me from the start, and my word, the end was worth the wait.

I loved several aspects of this book. The first is the inclusion of Maori myth and even language - subtle, at first, and then becoming more influential to the narrative towards the end. It was really fascinating to read about, but Hulme blended it perfectly into a picture of modern New Zealand. The second thing I loved was Hulme's use of language. In her introduction to my edition of the book, she talks about how words have 'shapes', and how the same word written with subtle differences (e.g. bluegreen, blue-green) creates entirely different meanings and feelings. She is a writer who is clearly aware of the infantessimal obscurities of language, and manipulates these beautifully. Her descriptions are spare and concise but conjure perfectly, and her prose, even dialogue, reads like poetry. The third aspect, and possibly the most moving aspect of the book, is the fact that it is a book about people. Despite the Maori myth and the plot and all the ins and outs it is a book about human relationships. All of the characters are flawed. They're all sympathetic. You can see a lot of the writer in this book, but it also reflects back to the reader. A very thought-provoking, caring and complexly simple story, and one that examines the beauty and horror of human relationships, very intelligently and very sympathetically.

I won't lie, there are parts of the book that are disturbing - the abuse scenes, in particular. But despite this it's the kind of book that gives you that bittersweet lift at the end. What they always call 'life-affirming' in film reviews - a term that I hate, but that I guess communicates the feeling.

It's also not easy going. Hulme weaves together third person, first person, past tense, present tense, narrative, dialogue, thought...and the structure puts the end at the beginning, loads of flashbacks in, things in consecutive chapters that are happening simultaneously or before what happened in the last chapter...Very unique, original style. I wouldn't call it avant-garde, because Hulme uses it deftly to mould the characters and narrative, and it is essential to the book rather than just being a pretentious add-on to a simple story. But it is different, and confusing, and tantalising. The complexity of the story requires the complexity of the way it's written. It was tough at times (especially when I had the much slimmer and more straight forward Great Gatsby at my side, watching me and begging to be read) but I really enjoyed Keri Hulme's unique style and tenderly-told story.

The Bone People is the kind of book that you can't rush through, and I won't be rushing to read it a second time. But I will read it again, not too far off. Three words to describe it? Eccentric, human, tender. Would I recommend other people read it? Yes. Not everyone will love it, and I was lucky that I read it at the right time for me, but I will definitely be recommending it to my more open-minded friends, as it is a book that teaches, without being preachy.

Waffle, the above. Basically, read it if you can set aside the time for it and if you like books that make you think hard. I loved it. I rescued it from a box going to the charity shop, and I'm glad I did, and it will be staying safely on my shelf waiting for me. ;)

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Too many books?

My reading is really out of control at the moment. I am currently reading Keri Hulme's 'The Bone People', Camus' 'L'Etranger' in French, D.H. Lawrence's 'The Rainbow', and Gillian Clarke's Collected Poems, as well as studying 'The Great Gatsby' by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 'The Rover' by Aphra Behn and revising Hardy's 'Tess of the D'Urbervilles', Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice', Shakespeare's 'Hamlet', and loads of other stuff. And on top of that I have loads of my own stories swimming around my head at the moment. Mostly they have been coming to me in dreams and I have to note them down very quickly before I lose them. Not so many poems at the moment.

Anyway, I am inching my way through 'The Bone People' mostly, and watching BBC4's adaptation of 'Women in Love' and pretending that it means I'm reading the Lawrence. I've decided that Hulme's book of short stories 'The Windeater' is going to be some of my holiday reading this summer, along with some J. M. Coetzee and maybe Ulysses. I had a trial seminar on Ulysses the other day and it sounds interesting, and it doesn't appear to be the solid lump of stream of consciousness that I had thought it was. So maybe. Also I'm a complete masochist so I have dug out my mum's old copy of it and it is staring at me fatly waiting for me to get to it. We shall see.

More on Keri Hulme when I finish it. Then I'll race through Gatsby and then onto the dreaded 'Rainbow'....... and ps. thanks Sean for your comment, I will check out the book, and would really love to one day visit Gjirokastra...when I've paid off my student debt maybe!