More about the song - rambling with Rachel Fox

New book

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Thu, 25 May 2017 19:18:00 +0100

This is an old blog but if you have ended up here recently (say, 2017) you might be looking for my new book 'Turn'. To find that please go to my website.

Thank-you.

New direction

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Wed, 3 Aug 2011 22:27:00 +0100

So we're back from our six months trip to Canada and the USA. I've posted the last travel post (over there) and there will be just a map and a final round-up to come in a few days and then that blog will be left alone for a while I suppose (maybe forever). As for this one (this blog that I have been keeping since, can you believe it, 2007!) I just started to feel it had run its course so I'm leaving it today and moving to a new place. For a start the format/template of this one looks so old now but I can't bear to change it at this stage - partly because this is the way it's always looked and I've had some good times within these boxes (some hard times too). This blog has seen me through all kinds of poetry nonsense, the death of my Mum, various changes and friendships and complications... so I am just going to leave it as it is and take a bit of a hike over to a new blog over here. Come visit. Bring cookies.

x

p.s. Mark took this photo at Thessalon, Ontario a couple of weeks back.

California Cheatin'

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sun, 22 May 2011 07:04:00 +0100

Photo - Venice Beach, L.A. Friday night.

So I am still not really here (still there...) but as I am currently visiting this week's Poetry Jam host (in California, darling) it seemed very rude not to at least try to join in. Her two prompts are both great (they're here) and if I was at home and working as normal I would probably write new poems for both of them but as it is... I am not and so I won't. Truth be told I've barely written a line of poetry since we've been away... and I don't say that in any kind of bad or sad way - if anything it's been a really pleasant change. I feel very free of anything to say just now - just happy looking.

So what to post..? I have an oldish poem about the politics of kids' playgrounds and parenting and it is mainly about Dads so I thought I'd go with this one (I don't think it's been on the blog before... I might be wrong of course... it's not coming up in the search anyway). I do have lots of poems about my own Dad (of course!) but I'm really not in the mood for any of them right now. So here is the playground one... and maybe I'll get to honky tonk when I get home...

Dads army

In combat trousers
Some long
Some short
They wear the modern camouflage
For parks and play areas
It's a must
The beige and grey and khaki green
Nice modern men blend in
Avoid unnecessary conversations
Mums can't seem to dodge so well
These are the loaded guns
"He's very small isn't he?"
"Does she eat fruit?"
"Oh, an only child"

Shaven heads
Sunglasses
Trainers in winter
Maybe risking open sandals
In summer
But in a neutral colour
Dads keep their mouths closed
Their eyes and ears open
Not at war but always prepared
They don't fall in traps
Mums could learn a lot from their approach
No hearts on sleeves
No nervous wittering
No defensive play
Just cropped heads steady
Resolve firm
No time wasted
We're here to play, kids
So play

RF 2005 (or so)

Titus Bus

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sat, 2 Apr 2011 02:53:00 +0100

I'm not really here (because I'm there) but Titus has a Poetry Bus prompt this week and it made me write a little something. Titus' prompt is here and writing a response was quite a surprise because so far on our trip I've written mainly diary notes and travel blog stuff. I haven't even wanted to write poetry... or think about it hardly (though I have read a bit of Edna St. Vincent Millay and I've squabbled a bit with a book of Billy Collins...). My little Bus poem is right here:

Kingfisher

I keep looking for you in the wild

But it is a long hunt

And getting tougher all the time

I would see your flash of blue

Your jolly brightness

It might change everything

RF 2011

Photo above taken South Street, Philadelphia, 28.3.11

Maybe this time...

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Tue, 1 Feb 2011 16:47:00 GMT

we really are going (my, this has been a long good-bye).

But finally, as of tomorrow, I will be away from this particular desk for six months. In the meantime you can find me here or via email/facebook. See you on the flip side, friends.

x

Wandering away...

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sat, 29 Jan 2011 08:38:00 GMT

Photo taken 01.01.00, Nottinghamshire, England.

So much going on right now... just days till we go and my head has been up and down and all around. I think I am winning the battle for calm in my head though (the war against terror indeed!). Well, sometimes. In an attempt to capture sanity I've been enjoying the clips below courtesy of other people's postings on facebook and blogs. They both feature Tom Waits showing how to really read poems aloud (poems by Charles Bukowski). Even if you've seen them before... maybe watch them again... and most of all listen (the sound! The sound!). I know some people (Colin McGuire...) have been Bukowski fans for ages but it was really only the Waits touch and sound that brought me in to these poems, that sat me down and said 'these are good, these will be good to you'. And they are.

Also we watched the movie 'Into the Wild' (2007, dir. Sean Penn) this week (highly recommended... had forgotten how much I love William Hurt for a start). The movie features a brilliant poem by Sharon Olds (text here) – it's called 'I Go Back to May 1937' (and I had read it before but, unlike Mr Penn, I had forgotten it). The clip with the poem is here - can't embed it, sorry). I like it when movies use poems well and this one really does (and who would have guessed that that young yob Sean Penn would turn into such a real star?). Great music from Eddie Vedder in the film too.

And finally... a mini poem from me for this week's Poetry Bus (task over at NanU's). I did write this over a few days (there was a Thursday but it was so bloody whingey that I'm afraid I just couldn't stand the sight of it and out it went!). Here's what's left.

Outside, outside

on Wednesday
a week stretches out like a tired old inner tube
by Friday
a walk in cold, fresh air can work wonders

RF 2011

So, that's me. As of this coming Wednesday I'll see you on the other side.... here!

x

Stay with me

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 28 Jan 2011 10:38:00 GMT

Some of you may not have realised that the poem in the last post was partly written as a response to the song in the clip below. Before you watch I should warn you however that this song is pop-dirge-cheese of the highest order (and some crazy outfits in the video too). It's from 1996 and is on the soundtrack for the movie 'Space Jam' (never seen that myself... it stars basketball star Michael Jordan and... Bugs Bunny...).

That song was written, produced and performed by R Kelly and I can't say I've ever known much about him or listened to much of his music. Funny though, how songs you don't like can stick in your head and sometimes even prompt work/poems that you do quite like. All the world's material...

x

Old things 2

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Wed, 26 Jan 2011 18:05:00 GMT

Another old poem. This is number 1 in my files of many poems (and so was written a little while back). I still feel it... and this week more than ever! Repeat after me: people fly all the time and it's fine, people fly all the time and it's fine...

B is for believing (1997)

I do not believe I can fly
In fact I do not really believe planes can fly
It's a hoax
In a Total Recall vein
Belief so often wasted

I do believe there is more to life
Than a well laid-out house
With items from Ikea
Being individual everywhere
That shopping is bad for you
And you're probably safer with tranquillisers

I believe private cars in cities should be
Scrapped
On the whole
That if those of us who can
Don't walk more
Our legs will wilt away
And walking whilst shopping
For anything other than essentials
Doesn't count

I believe there are some people
We'd be better off assassinating
But it's a bad habit to get into
Like shopping
Addictive
But with less plastic bags

I believe there is good and bad taste
Good and bad art
Good and bad ideas
That I am almost always right
But that this certainly doesn't make me a happier
Or more prosperous individual

I believe that in fact 9 times out of 10
Not caring what is right or wrong
Is the key to success
Just identifying a gap in the market
So people will want to have you
Buy you
Display you in their individual home
This is what to aim for
But when achieved it cannot be described
As achievement

RF 1997

x

Old things

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 09:13:00 GMT

Another year older... tick, tick, tick. And yesterday I was looking through my poem files (all in order, very thick now...). I was doing it for various reasons but partly just because I enjoy doing it. I like looking at what I've done, what I've achieved and not achieved, I like re-evaluating some of the poems, enjoying some again, remembering some of the stories behind them. And I still think that (whatever anyone else says!) the choices that I made for the book in 2008 were right (for me). Mainstream poetry can do what it wants - really I find it a bit of a thin stream, too often heading in only one direction. I'm still glad I did it my way!

Anyway, here's an old poem (about 2005 I think). I've never done anything with it... and I suppose I could change some of it now ('elegant'? My feet? Did I have sunstroke?) and I suppose it all sounds a bit bored housewife (which in itself is a bit boring...). But what can we do... life can be boring at times... and life is what we write about, non?

Sunday afternoon sands

Women
Who are not young
And not old either
Wander
Barefoot
Impractical but pretty
Leather flip-flop shoes
In hand

Bare feet
Let us push cares
Downwards
Cares they call
Worldly
But what does the world care
For family relationships
Roofers who don't ring back
And the complications of the modern diet?

We reach
As far as we can go
Time limited
We turn round to go
Back
The way we came
We look for prints we left
In vain
We went so lightly
Surprisingly
We left no marks

We see
The prints of dogs
Trainers
Walking boots
But no
Elegant
Naked
Size 6
Feet

We ask ourselves
Is this significant?
Is this beach life?
Does our lack of effect on the sand
Mean something deeper?
Is that just women all over
Cares
Worries
Too much bloody symbolism
And nothing left to show for it?

We don't
Know the answers
We get to the steps
That go back to the rest of the world
Children
Family
Playground
House
We brush
Sand from our toes
And put the flip flop shoes back on

RF 2005

One reason I liked this one yesterday is that I realised how related it was to this more recent poem (possibly my favourite of recent poems what I've written). Tracks in the sand, tracks in the snow... and off we go...

x

Nilsson had a point...

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 09:53:00 GMT

The guests at our folk club this week were Mollie O'Brien and Rich Moore from the USA. I'd never heard of them before (though I had heard of Mollie's fairly famous brother ... bluegrass/country star Tim O'Brien) but this duo were over for the Glasgow Celtic Connections music festival and had taken a quick trip up to Montrose on a day off. They put on a great show up here and we liked them very much (Mollie is a great singer - hear her here) so we bought their latest CD "Saints and Sinners". It looks like this

and it features songs by many different songwriters (Richard Thompson, Dave van Ronk, Tom Waits & Kathleen Brennan, George Harrison, Rodgers & Hart, David Francey... a real variety show).

One of the songs in their current repertoire that I'd never come across before was "Think about your Troubles" by Harry Nilsson (1941-1994, also known just as Nilsson... famous for all sorts of things... "Without You"... being pals with the Beatles...). The song was part of the soundtrack to a 1971 animated film called "The Point!" (apparently) that was created by Nilsson with animation director Fred Wolf. I'd never heard of the animated film either (had you?) but it's about a boy with a round head in a land where everything (and everyone) is pointed. This is the bit with the Troubles song:

It's OK but having heard Mollie's version first (and loved it) of course I almost prefer hers. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it - back to packing and sorting for me...

x

Other people's poetry - Hazel Buchan Cameron

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 11:55:00 GMT

Hazel Buchan Cameron is another one of those people who I know-but-don't-really-know-at-all (in an internet stylee). As far as I can recall I've never even spoken to this writer but I have had emails from her (she's something organisational to do with Scottish Pamphlet Poetry and they've let me sell cards at their book fairs), I've read some of her life story (a draft anyway... she appealed for test readers on facebook and we are 'friends' on there) and now I've read some of her poetry (to be precise her latest pamphlet 'Finding Ikea'). The book in question looks like this:

I was first attracted to this pamphlet when I read some reviews of it (also via Hazel's facebook page). The reviews (which all feel a bit like somebody's school homework to me...) are here, if you're interested. So why did they grab me..? Well, I suppose it was the first one (and there are three)... as well as some complimentary words ("a refreshing collection in a way: here is someone willing to come out and say what she thinks, or fears") the first reviewer called Hazel's poems, in places, "gratuitous", "unsubtle" and "immature", referred to "clichéd endings" and worried that she was "not in safe hands" (with this book/poet). Instead of being shocked or dismayed (perhaps the intention...) I was intrigued! Oh goody, I thought, perhaps here's a poet who gets misunderstood now and again too! This review made me keen to see Hazel's book (and sure to steer clear of anything put out by this reviewer... Jeez who wants maturity and safe hands in their poetry... not I... certainly not all the time... people's views on poetry never fail to astonish me...).

For balance I should say here that the second reviewer was more positive about the pamphlet overall (though felt the need to drag in that tiresome 'show, don't tell' business – boring... now there's your cliché, folks!) and that the last reviewer wrote something mindnumbingly daft about the cover but then recovered. Anyway, poetry reviews... rarely the most exciting reading in the world.

So on to 'Finding Ikea'. I am not going to review this pamphlet (ahem..) but I will just say this - as with Helena Nelson's "Plot and Counter Plot" (we talked about that just back here) I had a long list of poems that I might well have chosen to reproduce here (and there are only 22 in the book - not bad going). The title poem is meaty (to say the least) and there are lots of other poems in here that speak clearly, rhythmically and defiantly and in a pretty original voice (to my mind). I didn't feel safe after reading this little collection (I'm glad to say) – instead I felt stimulated, on the edge of my seat, alive. In end I asked for this poem... because it's tight and perceptive and the kind of thing that can only be written after some pretty interesting living. Hazel Buchan Cameron is most definitely, my friends, my kind of poet (and that's probably the kiss of death...sorry Hazel...).

Stalker

I have a stalker watching over me,
constructed from discarded flesh
and bones of those I've known ―
sometimes for just one day.
Yet I kept their look of scorn,
sneers of contempt,
a shaking head or
a finger to point.

I stored them all,
built an incondite Frankenstein,
to articulate my every doubt
and gatecrash all I dream about.

From 'Finding Ikea' by Hazel Buchan Cameron (2010 Red Squirrel Press, £4). Buy the book and read about Hazel here.

x

Look right in – TFE's Bus to the depths of the soul...

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 13:47:00 GMT

TFE has posted the Poetry Bus prompt this week. Here it is:

Write a poem. Don't think, just feel. Sit yourself down,stay quiet, find silence, concentrate on your breathing, feel your chest rise and fall, your heart beating, blood pumping.You are alive, so alive.Breathe in and breathe out,count those breaths, slowly look into your heart, your soul, how are you? Who are you? Are you happy/sad/ lost/ found/ confused/ certain.Are you where you hoped to be, do you know yourself? Are you who you were? Who might you yet be. Where might you be? Forget what your brain tells you that you know,and forget what your brain tells you to think, listen to your breath,tell me how you feel and why you feel it. How many breaths have you taken in this life? Think of them, focus on them. How many breaths are still to be taken?Disengage the brain and write from the heart.

You know I wrote a poem a good few years back that could have been written to this prompt. It's here. I don't know exactly when I wrote it but it's number 84 in my file (and I'm up to 375 this week) so I know it was quite a while ago. It says 2005 on my website but that's really just when the poems went online first and not when they were written. It was probably written somewhere between 1997 and 2000.

Anyway a lot has happened since I wrote that pretty sad (pathetic...) poem. It's funny that people liked it so much (and they did... how hurt we all are!). I have certainly got better at being positive and coping with what can be my sky-HIGH levels of anxiety since then (I wrote about anxiety a bit back here). I am more aware, for example, of what is good and what can help me stay sane and I know to keep myself away more from what is bad and what can make things worse (hell, class A drugs rarely help anyone stay sane!). These days I live in a quiet place, I am loved by good people, I take things easy and I look after myself (and anyone else who'll let me..). But still, you know, it can be pretty on-the-edge in my head (even if no-one else knows it). I still struggle with driving (and avoid it most of the time). I still don't really like crowded places (school concerts – uck!). And I am still fairly choked up about flying in planes (and big flight coming up soon... pass me the medication, doctor...). The difference now is that fundamentally I know I will survive any panic that comes my way - I used to think I would just self-destruct but now I know that I will feel terrible... but then I will be OK (most likely). I take deep breaths. I do my hypnosis reassurance finger-press thing (that really works...highly recommended!). And I go on living.

So I could write a breathing, focus-on-life poem that could be much better than the miserable one on the link above (couldn't I?). People might not like it so much (how we love sadness and confusion, how we laugh in the face of competence!) but I reckon I could do it. Compared to when I wrote 'Problems with value' I am feeling good... on the whole (except, you know, my Mum dying last year... I'm still a bit of a well of tears on that... still writing lots of sad death poems... wrote one on Friday in fact... quite pleased with it). But surely some of this improvement can be reflected in a poem..? Didn't I write this one a couple of weeks back... it's pretty positive and on the right road. But this week? This week I have packing to do (panicking? No, I definitely said packing...).

Temporary diversion

Lately we've been watching the TV series 'Six Feet Under' (on DVD, it was on a few years back). It is SO good. It's all about life and death, running a family funeral home and... well, coping with everything life can throw at you I suppose (and it's really funny... and packed with sex... of all kinds...). It's no wonder I like it – its creator Alan Ball wrote the movie 'American Beauty' which I also really enjoyed/rated. Here's the end of season 4 of 'Six Feet Under' (that's where we're up to – please don't tell me anything about series 5!) with the lovely David chatting to his dead father Nathaniel (they do that a lot in '6FU'... the dead get all the best lines). David (lovely, uptight/sensitive, gay, played by Michael C. Hall) has just had a life-threatening experience and then faced his attacker in prison. Richard Jenkins plays dead dad Nathaniel:

'The point's right in front of your face' - when simple lines are right... they are so, so right.

And here are some other simple lines... a sort-of poem response to TFE's fecker of a prompt.

Observing

1.

The air is softer than it was
And it goes further in
And it doesn't always hurt me

2.

And I may come from a family of fuck-ups
May be made, in part, of weakness and error
But it is not all bad
One good soul is enough

3.

And the fight is longer than we think
And harder than we know

4.

So breathe again my love, he says
Breathe again to stay alive
And I listen

RF 2011

x

The sounds of the States – Part two: with his hot hands

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 11:19:00 GMT

Well, I did say poems, books and music (not just poems... it's never just poems for me...) so today's all American favourite is the marvellous, the magical, the mesmerising.... Miss Nina Simone (1933-2003).

We listen to quite a lot of Nina Simone music in this house but with the BBC Radio 2 documentary that's been on recently (narrated by her daughter, now singing under the name Simone...) this fantastic artist has been on my mind even more than usual. She really was a HUGE talent (one of the twentieth century's stand-out greats) and these days most people know that (which does show that sometimes we get it right!). Listening to the documentary (which doesn't tell you anything particularly new but does get some nice insights from close friends and family) I realised how much I loved her version of the song below. She sings it so gently and with such strength of feeling that it just stops you in your tracks. I think her appeal is largely due to the combination of overwhelming talent (has anyone ever played a piano with more understanding..?) and giant emotional range (in the programme her drummer Paul Robinson refers to her, lovingly, as 'organically deranged'...).

Song credits - music by George Gershwin and lyrics by DuBose Heyward and Ira Gershwin.

Another thing the Nina Simone documentary made me realise (that I suppose I already knew but had never really considered) - if it hadn't been for the racism that kept Eunice Waymon from progressing as a straightforward classical pianist we, the wider public, might never have known Nina Simone and her amazing, life-changing repertoire of popular songs. Something to ponder, for sure.

p.s. This may be the end of this (very short) series. I mean, how the heck do you follow Nina?

x

The sounds of the States - Part one: the fool of books

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 10:30:00 GMT

So in just a few weeks we set off for Canada and the USA for six whole months. I've been to Canada before (in 2003) and even Central America before (Costa Rica and Nicaragua in 1987) but I have never set even a tiny bit of a foot in the U.S. of A. Perhaps because of this I've been drawn very much to poems, books and music of that country recently and so I found myself the other day, for example, dawdling over some Robert Frost. Assuming I've got the right poet, he looked like this (though he was generally more successful as a teacher and writer than a farmer, despite the pic and the rural poems – see life story here):

I've mentioned Frost on here before – he's in my 'influence' list back here, he was the source of my memorable line back here and he even made it into a poem back here. His poems are probably the first I remember enjoying at school and none more so than "The Death of the Hired Man". It's a quite long narrative poem and this reminds me that I've been wanting to try and write one of those myself. At the folk club here (where I've done a lot of readings) I know they would enjoy narrative poems (they enjoy narrative songs after all) and yet I've still to really try one out. Maybe that's something I'll have a go at whilst we're away and on the road.

Anyway, you can read the text of "The Death of the Hired Man" here and more excitingly perhaps you can hear Frost read it (and lots of other poems) here (in particular "West-Running Brook" and "The Death of the Hired Man" are here). I can't say they're the best readings I've ever heard (rushed... lack of drama... was he late for a bus or needing the loo or something?) but still, they are the man himself (so I'm told). To hear them best I'd advise listening in headphones too - bit fuzzy over speakers for me.

Now, who else shall I pick from the land of the, er, free?

x

Other people's poetry – Helena Nelson (again)

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Mon, 10 Jan 2011 10:40:00 GMT

I mention poet/publisher/teacher Helena Nelson on here fairly regularly. We're not pals or anything (more irregular correspondents) but I have known about her work ever since I moved to Scotland in 2002. I first came across her, I think, when she was chairing an event at the StAnza poetry festival but since then I have sent her poems, had them rejected, sent her more poems, had the odd one sneak into an anthology, asked her advice, only taken bits of it, put her in my list of '25 writers who have influenced me' (here) and then last year booked her for one of my Brilliant Poetry events (where she was one of the best guests ever – reviewed here by me and here by her... that sounds a bit Two Ronnies, doesn't it..?). I guess all of that kind of makes me a fan... and I suppose I am really... of her work and her determination and vigour. She is a very good poet and a very good person and if we are all a stereotype (and I think we often are at some level) then Nelson is the hardworking woman who doesn't (yet) have quite the reputation to match her work. Luckily she is such a diamond that this kind of thing doesn't really bother her – she is far more interested in other people's work and poetry with a big 'p' (as it were) than just her own role in it, I'm pretty sure. And plenty of people say that... but how many really mean it...

Maybe Nelson's not-exactly-high-profile is partly to do with the fact that, whilst some poets are larger than life, Nelson is almost the opposite - a wee wifey in Fife, getting on with business, not shouting 'look at me, look at me, look how loud and right I be!'. Then you look at her life and work and you see where the size comes in – her workload is huge! She puts out other poets work with her madly busy Happenstance pamphlet operation, she has various poetry books of her own with various different publishers and, as far as I know, she has a full-time, hard-work teaching job. Heck, she makes me feel very lazy...

But the reason I am talking about her today is that Nelson put out a new book of poems at the very end of last year with Shoestring Press. It's called 'Plot and Counter-Plot' and it looks like this:

Design by Nathanael Burgess from a painting by Gillian Beaton

I'm not a book reviewer at the best of times (and I have no desire to be one either – did you read the last post..?) so I'm not going to review 'Plot and Counter-Plot' in the conventional sense (and by the way Nelson reviews well too of course - read her here about Irish poet Tom Duddy's new collection, a lovely job). Rather than get into that territory, I offer you instead a list of observations:

1. It took me ages to decide which poem from 'Plot...' I'd like to post here – most of all because they all have something special and they are all pretty different. I'd say that's a plus for the book for sure – variety is not to be sneezed at (especially variety like this).

2. A lot of what Nelson writes about Duddy's book (see link above) could be said of her new one just as truthfully. I'm not going to quote that review because we'd be here all day but it is worth a read so click away, click away.

3. I'm not sure that the title of 'Plot...' will attract readers in the way that some titles can... but I am sure Nelson knows what she is doing. There is a lot more to poetry than catchy titles after all (even in this day and age).

4. There is a lot of rain in this book... and rain can mean sadness... and yes, it does feel a sad book in some ways... a getting-older book, a time-ever-so-slightly-running-out book. But all that makes me like it of course (I love Philip Larkin, let's not forget, and he's hardly the prince of positivity). And it is not sad-moan anyway - it is sad-wow-look-at-the-beauty-of-that-sadness.

5. The word 'song' appears in this book quite a few times too. This makes me very happy and even dare to wonder if maybe (just maybe!) I've had a tiny influence on Nelson too. Though of course those songs could have many other sources (music for a start... oh and you know...Rabbie Burns... a few other folk...).

6. At £9 it's quite expensive for a slim paperback... but it has gentle wisdom inside and 50 or so pages of gentle wisdom for £9 – that doesn't sound like quite such a bad deal, does it? Also it is £6.75 to HappenStance subscribers via the HS shop.

7. 'Plot...' is a clever book – and not look-at-me-aren't-I-clever clever... just simply clever (and cleverly simple). Anyone could read it (from the lowest brow to the highest ponytail) as it's aimed neither at the elite nor the dumbled down dregs. It's just words - good words, well-chosen.

And now the poem I picked. I ummed and ahed and ahed and ummed... and then I went for this one – a good, old-fashioned love poem. I picked it because although Nelson and I don't have much in common (in fact we are almost complete opposites in some ways...) I think one place where we do meet is that we both value real, good quality, well-executed love and we would probably fight to the death to protect it (and that love can be for a significant other, for a mother, for a child... these are all important loves). Again the title here is almost too small for the poem (for me – but then I like big power-titles... I could almost write a book that was nothing but titles...) but I trust Helena Nelson like a fish trusts... well, not a bicycle. Whatever she went with, she had her reasons.

Imagery

Love is like riding a bicycle of light
spinning on two great wheels of moon and sun,
clean rain in your hair, and the air
kissing your face and tugging your clothes,
balance as sharp as a rush of stars.

You would ride forever
but it is only a simile.
Love is not a bicycle. Love
waits in a country lane.
Love will unseat you.

By Helena Nelson
from 'Plot and Counter-Plot' (Shoestring Press 2010 £9.00)
You can buy it here.

x

I'm right, you're wrong – it's Critics Week on the Poetry Bus

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 7 Jan 2011 19:10:00 GMT

And don't forget your angry eyes...

I absolutely was NOT going to be on the weekly Poetry Bus this year! And then Kate Dempsey at Emerging Writer posted this trip's tasks (here) and what do you know... another bloody poem! And I should be getting organised for our HUGE, six month long 'trip of a lifetime' (see here... posts as we go...)! I should not be hanging around on blogs and writing poems! Anyway, enough exclamations.

It was the first task on the post that caught my eye – the one about responding to negative criticism. I wasn't going to talk about the matter below in public, as it were, but the prompt has pushed me to it. Let me give you a little background.

I put out a book of poems in 2008 (you can see the cover in the column to your right →).

You can still buy it by the way.

Anyway, I got a lot of really positive reactions to the book when it came out and if anybody did hate it (and I'm sure they did) they didn't say anything to my face or on screen anywhere obvious. I knew it was a bit different to many poetry books of our time (neither high art nor high performance, neither all serious nor all comic...) but I knew what I was doing – it wasn't accidental! As much as anything I don't see the point in putting out a book that's anything like anyone else's. As for the finished book... I guess you could call it either a mish-mash or an interesting tapestry (depending on your point of view) but obviously my intention was more the latter. I knew it wouldn't be everybody's thing but I was mostly OK with that. I mean what is 'everybody's thing', after all? Oxygen, water... beyond that the list pretty much peters out. Some people don't even like Morecambe and Wise (apparently). Fools.

But then last year some time (or possibly even the year before) I sent a copy of 'More about the song' to someone (who shall remain nameless here) for an online review. I had sent out review copies before and I'd had some good responses and a fair few no responses (the world is flooded with poetry books and self-published ones come fairly low down on some people's must-read lists but I knew that before I started). Even though I did have something like reservations about this particular site (because the reviewer in question seemed a bit snide, a touch full-of-herself and generally reminiscent of a primary-school-teacher-who-really-wanted-to-be-a-princess/professor/prime minister-but-didn't-manage-it-and-never-got-over-it) I still sent it off (my decision – only myself to blame!). Eventually she posted her review and, quelle surprise, it was nasty, nasty with more nasty on top. Mostly this taught me something I really should have known already - a person should trust their instincts. The gut rarely lies.

This (thankfully obscure) reviewer pulled me to pieces... she called my poems "unfocused", "meandering", "trite". Now I've had "trite" before (from magazine editors) and I have learned that most of all this means that the critic and I have totally opposing senses of humour (i.e. I have one...) and very different tastes in poetry too. The other two words though... "unfocused"? Really? No, I'm just not taking that one. I may ramble on here but my poems are totally focused (or, now and again, purposefully wanderful) and just because she didn't like them that doesn't make them woolly. And "meandering"? This made me wonder if she'd mixed my book up with another one from her pile. It just isn't that in any way. She also compared me to "that boring bloke I sat next to on a train once who insisted on telling me all of his poorly-informed opinions about things I'm just not interested in." Boring? Really? I have many faults (as a person... as a writer...) but I think that's the first time I've been called “boring” (so does that mean she took my "boring" virginity – how ucky).

Anyway. I didn't mean to mention it on here (too whingey, too predictable, obscure and well-known writers are always moaning about reviews) but when the Poetry Bus calls who amongst us can say "no thanks, I'll just stand here in the rain"? Sure the review bothered me for a couple of days when I first read it (but then my Mum had just died... I was bothered about lots of other things) and yes, I felt a little nauseous to begin with but that soon passed. I showed it to a couple of people, laughed about it... and then it was forgotten. Overall I was pleased how little it bothered me – after all most writers, musicians etc. (even the very, very best) have to put up with harsh reviews so it's just part of the process and everybody knows that so it's no big deal. One poet pointed me towards this song about critics. And this week Kate Dempsey posted Tim Minchin's reaction to criticism (which, I'm afraid, I didn't like too much... he can be cleverer...but I suppose that part of the joke is his silly response... in theory... it's the first clip on Kate's post). And now, thanks to the Bus, here's my little contribution (audio here). I think the focus of this one is fairly clear.

You think I stink

So, snooty snip, I give you pain
You would not sit next to me on a train
My work is everything you abhor
You spit out 'unfocused' and slide in 'bore'

Well, that's OK, you have your say
No-one reads you that much anyway
And if we should meet whilst out and about
You could bore me back tenfold, without a doubt

RF 2011

Now I must get on with some organising, packing and generally getting ready for flight. I must! I must!

Other poems for this week's Bus are linking now over here.

x

Fluffy brain?

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Wed, 5 Jan 2011 12:01:00 GMT

Oh boy was that a busy Xmas season! We had visitors for two weeks solid and lots of folk in and out too so I feel something approaching drained of all life force (although, as ever, it's possible that I'm prone to exaggeration too). I don't have a lot to say right now but what I can tell you is that we had a fairly Muppet Xmas here (we got the wee girl a dvd of old Muppet Shows from the '70s... one featuring Bruce Forsyth... real vintage TV...). It's all brilliant but one of my favourite moments from an old show was this song (I always did like the hums of Pooh better than the stories... and who better to sing them than a dog called Rowlf?):

x

With a bang

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Mon, 3 Jan 2011 14:38:00 GMT

We've had lots of visitors over the holidays and so have been at home a good deal (entertaining, darling) with music playing in the background a lot of the time. Once we got through our favourite albums we dug a little deeper into the files and so we've listened to lots of albums and artists that we might not have hung around with for a while. Here's one of them - Kristina Olsen from California. We saw this bluesy singer/songwriter at Stonehaven Folk Festival a few years back (by accident really) but we thoroughly enjoyed her whole show. She's funny and the owner of a lovely growly voice. Here she is just talking:

And here she is singing a great song called 'The Big O' (written by David Dodson):

She's pretty much always touring so you can catch her somewhere some time, I'm sure.

Happy January, one and all.

x

A final Bus

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 07:19:00 GMT

photo by Mark Stephenson, "Sunrise over the river Tay"

There is one more Poetry Bus for 2010. A selection box of prompts came from Jeanne Iris (here) and I chose this one:

Ask yourself what it is that you will do this year to advance humanity (or simply yourself) toward a higher level of consciousness. Then write a poem about it.

No small prompt!

Xmas is a funny time I find. Too much food, not enough routine... either you're working and wish you weren't or you aren't working and, after a few days of intense family life, you wish you were. Or maybe I'm just never contented... rarely at this time of year it must be said. My mother-out-law told me that growing up she was told “Christmas is for Christians, Hogmanay is for heathens”... hell, no wonder I've always preferred the latter. And we're nearly there, nearly out of the woods.

Like most folk we've watched our share of movies this holiday and in one of them I heard the simple line “you have to look for your life” (well, movie spotters... what is it? What movie?). This year I will be looking for my life in some new places, I know that for sure... (big trip coming up... my family's crazy half-gap year... but more of that later). For now here's a simple poem for the end of this year and the beginning of the next (and it somehow relates back to this one that I posted almost exactly two years ago). May 2011 be a good one for us all.

Moving on

There might be flying
But it will be different

We will fly from the soles of our feet
To the very tips of our fingers

And we will think we are running
But it will be much, much more

RF 2010

p.s. A friend bought me a book of Alastair Reid's poetry for Xmas. Straightaway I love this poem (also, bizarrely considering the heathen business, here). Onwards, my friends, onwards. The exit's here somewhere.

x

Pass the crisps

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Wed, 29 Dec 2010 13:52:00 GMT

And on it goes... the festive season... my, how it can drag...

I try to read something really unseasonal at this time of year (a form of escape!) and right now I am ensconced with Quentin Crisp and his "The Naked Civil Servant" (1968). A friend left it here for me to read a couple of years ago and I've only just managed to reach for it recently. It looks something like this:

Crisp is eminently quotable (and not for the tiny-minded...) but so far my favourite quote is in the first chapter:

"... keeping up with the Joneses was a full-time job with my mother and father. It was not until many years later when I lived alone that I realized how much cheaper it was to drag the Joneses down to my level."

I've missed one Poetry Bus but might make the next one at the weekend (prompt here).

x

Busy times

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 08:14:00 GMT

Cooking, cleaning, shopping... whoever called this the holiday season? We've got visitors and a still-pretty-excited daughter so no time to be online... see you on the other side...

p.s. The photo above was taken on 12th December in Montrose... it's snowed again since! The day before yesterday the big tree at the other end of the square looked like this:

x

This week at Middlebrow Manor...

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 15:23:00 GMT

... let's talk about Shakespeare's sonnets!

Well, let's start with a totally non-academic fact - my Mum, Margaret Fox, shared her birthday with William Shakespeare (23rd April not the year, obviously). This may not seem very important in the great scheme of things but it mattered to me because Margaret (1924-2010) was a huge fan of the one they call 'the bard' (the one by whom all poets in English shall be judged... 1564-1616). She particularly loved going to the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon - she would go for a few days whenever she could, see play after play after play and think she was in heaven. She was a bit of a culture vulture (and a some time snob, it must be said) and so the RSC was her idea of top entertainment (well, that and Saturday night TV... ). Part of the reason she loved the RSC and all that went with it was that she'd had an odd, and in many ways hard, upbringing in the 1930s without a lot of cultural content and I know she loved to experience that 'look at me, enjoying Shakespeare, this is life as it should be lived' feeling. I used to gently take the piss out of her for it ('my snobby mother, ha!' - easy target) but she was perfectly entitled to her feelings and really I could have let it go (though of course she got me back regularly by making faces at what she saw as my own low culture tastes and life choices... she once said 'I think you could do better than poetry, dear'! Ouch...).

Anyway, this spring, in the last week or so of Mum's life, I kept trying to read to her when it got to the point where she was restless and fed up but couldn't read to herself any more (she'd always been a devoted reader). After several false starts I realised that just a page or so of a Shakespeare play would do it (the nearest one on the bookshelf was 'Twelfth Night') and as soon as I started to read it aloud her face relaxed and I could see that it was just the thing she wanted to hear. I could see that it made her happy ('my life still has culture! I may be dying but I still have this and I am not in an old people's home listening to “Eastenders” or bingo numbers'). Also it reminded her of happy times and it helped her to fall asleep (very quickly – she was hardly sleeping at night). Overall I'm pleased I thought to do it – it is a happy memory from a pretty difficult time.

Like my mother, I too have loved Shakespeare's plays (well, the tragedies certainly). I studied several in school ('Macbeth', 'Hamlet', 'Measure for Measure') and I went to see those (and loads of others) when I was 16-18 and living in London. I was lucky enough to have good English teachers who really encouraged a love of the plays and though I've rarely gone back to Will's work since then I should think that the love of Macbeth's torments and Hamlet's confusions will be with me forever... in some form or another.

Shakespeare's sonnets though...all 154 of them... I've never really seen the attraction and therefore the new Faber & Faber edition of them (complete with commentary throughout from Scottish poet Don Paterson) was aimed precisely at people like me (oiks what are a bit cultured but not as much as they could be...). I bought the book a little while back and have been reading it steadily (I love Faber books... could lick them... though this one, I note with shock, has more typos than any book I've read in years! Disgraceful really.). The front cover looks like this:

So, what's my position now? Have the sonnets and all their talk of love found a place in my heart..? Or in my head..?

Well, for a start I must warn you that Paterson guides the reader in a very particular way and from the reviews it is apparent that some people like his approach more than others. The marvellous Adam Mars Jones (in the Guardian here) is pretty scathing but other reviews (here, here and here) are more positive. For me, the approach was... OK, quite more-ish, certainly not dull. He's slangy and funny about... 70% of the time... and then erudite and high-powered for the other 30% (but I managed to skim a lot of the latter... whenever he said 'anorak alert' I confess I did press fast-forward on the eyes hating, as I do, so much of that poetry-as-science-and-here-look-at-the-length-of-my-terminology business). As for the jokes, some were funny, some weren't but that is the way with jokes, I find, no matter who's tellin' 'em. Overall his chatting-to-a-mate-in-the-pub style worked for me in the simple sense that it got me through the book and that without it I'm not sure the sonnets themselves would have kept me reading (and yes, I do know you don't have to read them all at once but, on this occasion, I did... it was all or nothing). I was glad, I must admit, that Paterson had done all the background reading (so we oiks don't have to...) because lit. crit. has never been a place I've felt at home. Plus he's good with the vocabulary of the time (vital so you don't get the wrong end of the innuendo...) and in a good number of cases I found the explanations (just literally 'what the hell is this sonnet about?') necessary and helpful (even if I didn't always agree with all his decisions and directions). Now I come to think about it I disagreed with him fairly regularly but I suspect a lot of that is just to do with taste, life experience and the fact that I'm about as arrogant and temporarily overconfident as he is sometimes (or as his writing persona is sometimes anyway). As for where I disagreed... well, for a start I wasn't hugely keen on all the 'what poets do' and 'what poets think' that the commentary contained... as though they/we were all one happy band of campers working in the same way (I'm not sure that that could be any further from the truth...). Also he often hated the end couplets (last two lines) of the sonnets and found them unnecessary, whilst more often than not they were my favourite bit. Finally he wrote a lot about the whole 'Will's gay, Will hates women but still dabbles with them now and again' thing (for context purposes) and whilst I didn't necessarily disagree with what he said on that score I did feel he spent a lot more time talking about it than I really wanted him to (and I LOVE gays... and women...). The more he pondered 'who Will was shagging when' the more I found I just didn't want to try and come up with a 'what Will was doing at this point in this life' scenario (because we just don't know so it's like a game with no rules, no point, no end... and I'm a person who's interested in people, on the whole...). I know why he banged on about the gay content and issues so much (he feels other critics/commentators have ignored it, got it wrong etc.) but still it felt a bit forced to me at times... or a bit too matey somehow (in a 'hey, we all know what relationships are like, don't we, got gay friends, haven't we, eh?'). It's hard to explain why but this did get on my nerves and even a bit under my skin. Maybe DP and I just think about people and relationships in very different ways... or maybe I should have read the book more in snatches here and there... or maybe I moan too much (and not in a sexual way). Bloody readers - always moaning about something.

As for the poems themselves - Paterson is very clear in his 'some are good, some are not so good' commentary but try as I might I couldn't get very excited even about the ones he INSISTED were beyond compare. On this reading at least, I found again and again that I just didn't like these sonnets very much (the odd line here and there but not many whole poems). They seemed so nowt-but-showy, so in-the-knowy, so woe-is-me-oh-woey (must stop this now...). In fact I got so restless that I found myself playing a little game called 'give the sonnet a silly subtitle' (some of them 20th century song lyrics...). The more I read the more they made me long for the plays, for some substance, for some direction, for something (anything!) other than all this whining and obsessing with looks and beauty and 'oh, how time will ruin you my young bunion, but I'll still love you and commemorate you in me lovely verse' (and am I judging them by my own 21st Century silly sensibility... well yes, it appears so... but I can blame Paterson and his constant use of 21st century silly language and catchphrases throughout for that... innit though?). Perhaps one of the things about reading the sonnets was that I found them, as a whole, quite depressing, strangely hollow. For me, there seemed to be very little love in them at all (or at least little that I could recognise as love... and love has kind of been my life's work - we talked about love poetry back here, remember... though I suppose it could be partly the several hundred years time difference...). Or maybe it's that Shakespeare just didn't love anyone very well (men or women). Or maybe no-one loved him (that might explain the great tragedies...). Or maybe he just loved himself (that wouldn't be unheard of for a writer now would it?). But I'll stop there because, as I said, we'll never know. This may shock you but I struggled to find even one sonnet in the book that I'd like to copy and paste for you here – and that helped me understand why every time a newspaper has one of those 'print some famous people's favourite Shakespeare sonnets' I'm always bemused by all the choices (and yet I could print excerpts from his plays till the coos come hame). It's not even that I don't like sonnets and formal poems... anyone who reads here regularly will know that I do (50% of the time at least... I wrote a sonnet last post... and did I mention... save the villanelle! In fact email Faber and Faber to that effect if you don't mind – I'd like an anthology of them please by Easter!). In the end I picked this one (102) to share with you (it's all nightingales and 'I know I'm not writing about you as much as I used to but I still love you, honest, in fact it's more special now...'):

My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear.
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days.
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night;
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.

So, there you have it – Shakespeare's sonnets 4 out of 10... must try harder. Would anyone even read them if it weren't for all the plays (controversial, sensationalist, moi?)? Maybe I'll feel a bit more rational about this in a month or two but it is interesting to note that this book partly came about because Paterson realised that, like many of us, he referred to Shakespeare's sonnets as 'classics' without really knowing them. Well, maybe there's a reason so many of us don't know them very well (and some of the ones we think we know we get completely back to front...). Maybe they're just not that classic. Maybe we worry about what is and what isn't 'classic' too much.

Anyway, to finish this broadcast I bring you something else about love but this time from that great cultural resource - 21st century TV (an episode from series 3 of the wonderful 'Six Feet Under', to be precise... could only find the bit I wanted with subtitles and an abrupt end...). We're a bit late to this series (as ever... so no spoilers for later series please) and this clip about love had me snivelling when I watched it last week. Coincidentally it's a gay character speaking here and the clip must be good because I enjoy it even though it has o'pra in it (I don't like o'pra much - my culture vulture Mum adored it of course...).

It's nearly Xmas, isn't it? Peace and joy to you all, peeps, and love too of course - good quality love.

x

Weaver's Starry Bus (great name for a band that... )

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 19:56:00 GMT

Last week the moon... this week a starry prompt for the Poetry Bus from the Weaver of Grass. Being a bit busy with family Xmas stuff just now I thought I might just recycle something for this... but then this morning I thought I'd have a go at a star sonnet (yes, I'm still reading the new Don Paterson Shakespeare's Sonnets Book... well, just finished it actually... report on that next week... expect huge generalisations... up now - here). And what do you know... I sat down to write this morning and lo, a sonnet appeared. So here is my sort of Xmassy, sort of starry sonnet (and I had to get the word 'eyes' into it... Shakespeare uses it in practically every one of those dratted sonnets). Now I'm off to wash some socks or something...

Follow

I'd love to look above and see a star
One spark of bright to help me find my way
The thought that light can guide us from afar
That is a hope that shines for some each day
But others of us look up to the skies
When times are hard, when nights are long and cold
We see not one but myriad shining eyes
Each one a shepherd to a different fold
We cannot make a choice, we want them all
We want to see each road, each glint and glow
And though some roads lead only to a fall
The only way to learn that is to go
We take the paths we take, it is alright
When we have one another kept in sight

RF 2010

A song you say? A starry one? Maybe this from the 1980s...

Although (no surprise) I really prefer this one from the 1970s...

p.s. 'Books I've read this year' post back here (oh, and I've added one I'd missed first time round...).

x

Looking for a book?

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 11:39:00 GMT

Last Xmas I wrote a ridiculously long post about the films I'd watched in the last year (back here). This year I present to you a much shorter trip through all the books I've read this year (not counting poetry... that's such awkward stuff... it needs a post of its own...). As I did last year I've included my own private reading matter and the books I've read to our daughter at night (she still likes to be read to so I'm going to keep going as long as she'll take it without barricading me out of the room - she's ten now... it won't be long). Last year I gave movies a score out of ten so I've decided to do the same with the books. It seems a bit cruel maybe, scoring a book out of ten, but it's a cruel world, n'est-ce pas? These are such varied books that the scores will show you nothing more than how much I liked each individual book and how much I would like to recommend it to you (or not).

I've gone through the books in the order I read them so, what did I read in January..?

Jack Kerouac “On the Road” (publ. 1957)
Bought cheap in the supermarket with a voucher I got as a present
Also mentioned here, I'd never read this and felt I should but I found it really quite dull and only got about two thirds of the way through before putting it down and not picking it up again. It's still on the bedside table but low down the pile.
6/10

Stephen Fry “Making History” (1997)
Borrowed from a friend
I'm not a mega Fry fan like some but I can sometimes admire what he does and says and he makes me laugh now and again. His books though I find a bit Lib-Dem, if you know what I mean (sorry for those outside the UK... that reference won't mean much). And what do I mean by that? They have good moments and some promise but are ultimately disappointing.
6/10

Neil Gaiman “Coraline” (2002)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
We both enjoyed this slight novel well enough but they did take it up a notch (or twenty) with the film (which is fantastic – one of our real faves).
8/10 (she says 8½)

Dave Eggers “What is the What” (2006)
Bought this a few years back after reading an article about it... left it sitting in the 'to read' pile for ages (mainly because someone else said it was very harrowing and I was scared to read it... sorry)
This book is really, really, REALLY good – both its fiction and its truth. I wrote about it back here (though I didn't really say very much). Read it, read it, read it!
10/10

Mark Steel “Reasons to be Cheerful” (2001)
Bought this because I read and really enjoyed his “What's Going On”(2008) last year
A lot of 'funny' written matter just doesn't make me laugh but Mark Steel books are almost guaranteed to make me splurt out noisily on the bus. The jokes don't always work (and can be a little laboured from time to time) but overall I really love his outlook, dedication and way with words and images.
9/10

Frances Hodgson Burnett “A Little Princess” (1904)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
I loved this as a kid and enjoyed it even more this time round (and Miss I'm Ten loved it too). It is SO sad (I cried real tears, whilst reading...) and it prompted us to talk a lot about inequality too – always good.
9/10 (she says 9½)

Nora Chassler “Miss Thing” (2010)
Bought from the publisher, recommended by a friend
This is a lively, spiky, pretty intellectual piece of New York-based fiction via Scottish Two Ravens Press. I very much enjoyed it – though I had to look a few things up (I knew all the drug references but not so much the philosophers....). I'll be interested to see what this writer does next... especially now she lives in Tayside...
8/10

Wendy Cook “So farewell then Peter Cook” (2006)
Borrowed from a friend
This memoir takes namedropping to a new level. There were some interesting details about comedian Peter Cook's life but a lot of flannel too. Disappointing.
4/10

Dave Eggers “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” (2000)
Bought it after reading 'What is the What' (see above)
The first section of this I really enjoyed (the heartbreaking bit) but once he moved out to California I'm afraid the genius side of things started to wear a bit thin and whiney for me. Still, it wasn't uninteresting and it got Eggers started on the path that led a lot of the very interesting work he's doing now.
8/10

Lauren St.John“The White Giraffe” (2007)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
Adventure with animals in South Africa. A bit cheesey but Miss I'm Ten loved it.
6/10 (she says 8½)

A.S.Byatt “The Children's Book” (2009)
Bought it in Smiths
This is one of my very favourite reads of the year (I wrote a little about it here). A huge book in every sense.
10/10

Robert Graves “Goodbye to all that” (1929)
From local library
This has such a good reputation but I'm afraid I skimmed a lot of it. There was one line in it about singing with the soldiers that I liked but I forgot to write it down.
6/10

Rose Tremain “Trespass” (2010)
Mum's copy – she was quite a Tremain fan
Moody, sad... I read this at the right time (just after Mum died). Not amazing but perfectly readable.
7/10

Mark Steel “Vive la revolution” (2003)
As “Reasons...” above
A history of the French Revolution, this isn't my favourite of Steel's books... in fact I didn't finish it. But then I did read Hilary Mantel's “A Place of Greater Safety” last year so maybe I just didn't need more Danton and friends quite yet.
6/10

Robert Graves “On English Poetry” (1922)
From local library
I loved this – loads of bonkers quotes about poetry (I posted some here and here).
8/10

Barack Obama “Dreams from my Father” (1995)
Mum's copy
I loved this too – wrote about it here. Although my favourite Obama line has to be from comedian Reginald D Hunter on TV's 'Have I got news for you' – I can't find it online but it went something like 'yeh, a black man gets to be in the white house – now that the whole country ain't worth a damn'.
9/10

Lewis Carroll “Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There” (1871)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
I am not a Carroll fan (I know, stone me!). I read the first Alice to Miss I'm Ten last year and I couldn't bear it (she enjoyed it – she likes most books... especially if there's a female central character and/or animals in it). I did find this one more enjoyable but still... I find the books flat somehow, lifeless. I am aware that lots of people (and poets in particular) do not feel this way (hysteria if you ask me).
7/10 (she says 8)

Kurt Vonnegut “Slaughterhouse-Five” (1969)
Borrowed from a friend
This is another classic I'd not read. It is powerful and very well-written and quite ahead of its time in its crazy style. I can't say I could rave about it just yet (like some of you do...) but heck I'd take it over Kerouac any day! I might read it again.
9/10

Rose Tremain “Sacred Country” (1992)
Mum's copy
I much preferred this to her 'Trespass' (above) largely, I suppose, because it didn't have the middle-class stamp so clearly right the way through it. This is a really fascinating, well-told tale about ordinary English people doing what might be thought of as very extraordinary things. I found it very moving and it's that simple thing - a good novel.
9/10

Zadie Smith “Changing my Mind” (2009)
Mum's copy
There was the odd essay in here that lost me completely but overall I thought it was a terrific collection of work and writing. I wrote about it here. And you can read one of my favourite sections of the book (about comedy) here.
9/10

Rhona Cameron “Nineteen Seventy Nine” (2004)
Borrowed from a friend
Funny and hugely emotional, this gritty '70s childhood memoir really gets to the heart of life in a small Scottish town. I wrote about it here.
9/10

Jacqueline Wilson “Secrets” (2002)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
Miss I'm Ten is a serious JW fan so there are a lot of her books in this house. This one is a modern day Little Princess/Prince and Pauper affair but, like all her books, it works like a charm on the fans.
8/10 (she says 9½)

“Q.I. Book of the Dead” (2009)
Bought this for Mark last Xmas - don't know why... much more my kind of thing than his!
I've dipped into this on and off all year. It's basically lots of potted life stories and I have learned lots of interesting facts from it. Sadly, because I'm not really good with facts, I'm afraid I've forgotten most of them again already. Quite frustrating, I can tell you.
8/10

Kathleen Jamie “Findings” (2005)
Bought second hand in Edinburgh
A smashing book of non-fiction pieces – I wrote about it here.
9/10

Steven Poole “Unspeak” (2006)
Bought second hand locally
This attempt to dissect a lot of the nonsense language in news reporting started well but then lost me about a third of the way in. Maybe another time I will come back and explain why... At the moment it sits on the forgotten pile keeping Kerouac company.
6/10

Alexander McCall Smith “Dream Angus” (2006)
Mum's copy
This is simply fabulous - myth with modern twist. Highly recommended.
9/10

Astrid Lindgren “Pippi Longstocking” (various dates - this edition 2007)
Read as bedtime story to daughter – the new edition with the Lauren Child illustrations
This is another one I'd somehow missed as a child. Miss I'm Ten loved it because the heroine is an eccentric redhead (close to home..?). We both enjoyed the 'child given total freedom' storylines though I can't say it's stayed with me much since finishing it a couple of months ago.
7/10 (she says 9½)

Bill Bryson “Shakespeare” (2007)
Mum's copy
I nearly put this in the Brilliant Poetry raffle but then I decided to give it a go. I suppose this is the height of middlebrow non-fiction but, you know, his books sell well for a reason or two (and none of them to do with a Katie Price lifestyle...). It was informative, entertaining, clever. I particularly liked all the details about the London of Shakespeare's time – Bryson really brought it to life for those of us with zero historical background (facts you see...).
8/10

Peter Ackroyd “Milton in America” (1997)
Mum's copy
A fictional account of a poet's fictional trip in the seventeenth century. I started it, got bored, stopped. Then I started it again, got bored again, put it in the pile with 'On the Road'. It felt really forced to me.
5/10

Cathy Cassidy “Indigo Blue” (2005)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
These books are very like Jacqueline Wilson's from what I can see (though the writer is younger than JW and you can kind of feel that somehow). I started thinking it was going to be a bit of a copy cat (didn't like the cover either) but in fact we both really enjoyed it and couldn't turn the pages fast enough.
8/10 (she says 9)

Jacqueline Wilson “Secret Teenage Diary” (2009)
Read as bedtime story to daughter
This is the second volume of Jacqueline's own life story (written with her young audience very much in mind). Just as with the first volume with Miss I'm Ten and I really enjoyed this – some great details about an ordinary 1950s teenage year-in-the-life.
8/10 (she says 9)

Gregory Maguire “Wicked” (1995)
Borrowed from a friend
As we were seeing the musical show in London this year I fancied reading this original reworking of the Oz story (though I probably never would have got to it otherwise). People seem quite split on this book but overall I did enjoy it (though of course it is very different to the show – much more adult content!). There are some strong ideas and the characters and places came over well, I'd say. It's one of those... I wouldn't say 'rush to read it' but I wouldn't say 'don't ever read it' either.
7/10

And that's me - sacrilegious, full of shite or on the money? You decide.

p.s. Forgot one we finished just recently

Ray Bradbury "The Halloween Tree" (1972)
Borrowed from a friend and read to daughter
I'm afraid neither of us could get as excited about this book as the friend who lent it to us! Miss I'm Ten really struggled with it (lots of description and historical facts content, very little characterisation or story) and I found it poetic (in the sense that I almost wish he'd gone the whole hog and made it into a poem). Great illustrations though (by Joseph Mugnaini).
7/10 (we agreed on this one)

x

The Titus Bus – and the little dog jumped over the moon

noreply@blogger.com (Rachel Fox) — Sat, 11 Dec 2010 20:55:00 GMT

So this week... our first Poetry Bus prompt from Titus the Dog (see here). I chose the video option and so, on Thursday morning, I watched this:

and, being me, straightaway I had to look up who the music was by (details here). Then I wrote the beginnings of this little piece:

cooking up something

be in your work
better
be in your world

RF 2010

Then later in the afternoon I wrote the walking/ghostly/snow poem that's in the last post (here) and so I suppose that should really be included in this prompt too (but I'm not going to post it again here... that would be silly...). Then finally I walked the dog on Friday morning and realised that a line that hadn't fitted into the above 'cooking up' poem could set off a little piece of its own:

Luna la

The moon sings us a lullaby
We don't know how, we don't know why
But as each day takes turn to fly
I'm sure I hear a moonrock sigh

RF 2010

After all this I remembered what the original art video had made me think of – a song and character from a kids TV show. I used to love this song (and her voice) every time I heard it when our Girl was teeny. She had the soundtrack CD for this show as well so we heard it a lot!

Added later - the voice of Luna belonged to Lynne Thigpen (1948-2003). She was in many other TV shows and movies and was the radio DJ in 1979's 'The Warriors' (remember you never see her whole face... I loved that movie when I was a teenager!). Never knew that link till today.

x