Angela France
 
The Clockwork Gift by Claire Crowther (Shearsman Books)
Chora by Nigel McLoughlin (Templar Poetry)
Bundle o’Tinder by Rose Kelleher (Waywiser Press)
 
 
Susan Richardson
 
Weeds and Wild Flowers by Alice Oswald (with etchings
by Jessica Greenman) (Faber & Faber)
A Sleepwalk on the Severn by Alice Oswald (Faber & Faber)
I Spy Pinhole Eye, poems by Philip Gross
with photographs by Simon Denison (Cinnamon Press)
 
 
Collin Kelley
 
Carpathia by Cecilia Woloch (BOA Editions)
Sassing by Karen Head (WordTech Communications)
An Urgent Request by Sarah Luczaj (Fortunate Daughter Press)
This Pagan Heaven by Robin Kemp (Pecan Grove Press)

 
Katrina Naomi
 
One Secret Thing by Sharon Olds (Jonathan Cape)
Laughter Heard from the Road by Maggie O’Dwyer
(Templar Poetry)
Third Wish Wasted by Roddy Lumsden (Bloodaxe Books)
 
 
Arlene Ang
 
The Wrong Miracle by Liz Gallagher (Salt Modern Poets)
Fair Creatures of an Hour by Lynn Levin (Loonfeather Press)
In the Voice of a Minor Saint by Sarah J. Sloat (Tilt Press)
 
 
Laurie Byro
 
Carta Marina: A Poem in Three Parts by Ann Fisher-Wirth
(Wings Press)
Poems from the Women’s Movement, edited by Honor Moore
(Library of America)
Watching the Spring Festival by Frank Bidart
(Farrar, Straus & Giroux)
 
 
Ray Givans
 
The Year of Not Dancing by C L Dallat (Blackstaff Press)
Natural Mechanical by J.O. Morgan (CB Editions)
Darwin, A life in Poems by Ruth Padel (Chatto & Windus)
 
 
Ross Sutherland
 
Migraine Hotel by Luke Kennard (Salt Modern Poets)
Watering Can by Caroline Bird (Carcanet Press)
Weather A System by James Wilkes (Penned in the Margins)
 
 
Kelli Russell Agodon
 
Sharp Stars by Sharon Bryan (BOA Editions)
Then, Something by Patricia Fargnoli (Tupelo Press)
Upgraded to Serious by Heather McHugh (Copper Canyon Press)
 
 
Crystal Warren
 
Flashes by Carol Leff (Aerial Publishing)
Strange Fruit by Helen Moffett (Modjaji Books)
Oleander by Fiona Zerbst (Modjaji Books)
 
 
Derek Adams
 
Furniture by Lorraine Mariner (Picador)
Beneath the Rime by Siriol Troup (Shearsman Books)
The Girl with the Cactus Handshake by Katrina Naomi
(Templar Poetry)
 
 
Liesl Jobson
 
Impredehora by Yvette Christiansë (Kwela Books with SnailPress)
Al is die maan ‘n misverstand by Danie Marais (Tafelberg)
Hyphen by Tania van Schalkwyk (The UCT Writers Series/
Electric Book Works)
  
  
Chris McCabe
 
West End Survival Kit by Jeremy Reed (Waterloo Press)
How To Build a City by Tom Chivers (Salt Modern Poets)
The Burning of the Books by George Szirtes and Ronald King
(Full Circle Editions)
Undraining Sea by Vahni Capildeo (Egg Box Publishing)
Rays by Richard Price (Carcanet Press)
Weather A System by James Wilkes (Penned in the Margins)
Furniture by Lorraine Mariner (Picador)
Madeleine’s Letter to Bunting by Kelvin Corcoran
(Longbarrow Press)

My copy of the Autumn issue of Poetry London popped through the post today (Post, you say? Oh yeah – ) and lo and behold it contains a review – the first in print – of my book How To Build A City. I’m pretty ecstatic. That horribly talented Luke Kennard was tasked with perusing my poems, and found them… to his taste.

Here are some choice cuts:

Worse luck, How To Build A City is so good it scares me. It’s a debut collection which is angry, vital and constantly surprising with a pleasing earthiness to the language.

Chivers’s writing feels refreshing and necessary, a genuine, lyrical appraisal of contemporary life, something about the mediated layers of reality we experience every day.

The lazy reviewer in me just wants to write something like from spam email to urban foxes, Chivers has his finger on the zeitgeist. Which is exactly the opposite of what the work’s trying to do, which it seems to me, is to stop us blithely using terms like zeitgeist at all.

I really admire Luke’s work, so it’s great to get this kind of praise. I still have some signed copies of the book, so message me if you’d like one – and I’ll include a new original poem to boot. Alternatively, nab a copy from my publisher (which is also Luke’s… conspiracy theories start and end here).

Birmingham Bull, originally uploaded by Nik Sibley.

You may or may not have noticed my involvement with Greenbelt festival over the last few months. I’m their literature coordinator, and it’s a joy and a pleasure to be involved with a group of highly switched on and creative people.

As part of the literature programme I seem to have accidently coordinated a lot of content from, inspired by or about Birmingham. It wasn’t done on purpose, there’s not a plot to take over the festival with Brummies, there’s no conspiracy. (For there to be a conspiracy there’d have to be someone who knew what they’re doing at the top, I’m not and I don’t)

There’s three talks from the wonderful Jon Bounds one about Birmingham not being shit (it’s not), the power of memes (called “I’m from the internets” and should be a belter!) and, finally, one about the 11 bus project.

The lovely Luke Kennard writes angry, offensive, judgemental poetry and his faith as a Christian has nothing to do with being a poet. I can’t wait to meet him (and I’m going to be interviewing him which is a real treat!) He’s the youngest person to be nominated for the Forward poetry prize and lectures on creative writing at Birmingham University. (The city of Birmingham’s motto is “forward!”, d’you see what I did there…)

Rob Chidley studied at Birmingham university before doing a bit of a trek around the country to find somewhere to live. He’s the author of The Third Tribe and I’ll be interviewing him too. He’s an interesting soul, we’ve had some interesting conversations and I can’t wait to see what we get to talk about.

There’s other Brummies across the programme, volunteering, working and involved with the festival. We’ll strike when you least expect it and we’ll all end up talking like Brummies.

photo by Caroline Watson

Here I am first on at Howl,  after MC Nathan Penlington did a literary magic trick!
I am looking a little blurred here (it must have been the beer)

I was doing a spot as one of the I Scream Sunday poets, at the Cramphorn Theatre, Chelmsford. I performed ‘Getting his Head Straight’ ,’A Moving Experience’ & ‘Chopper’.

Followed by Adrian Green, with some jazz inspired poetry, then Martin Reed performed a Chandleresque spoken word piece, back by Len on Double Bass & Bryan on drum.

Martin Reed, walking the mean streets of Chelmsford

Bryan Wilson then did his own set, including ‘Solidarity’.

Ash Sakar in an amazing Union Jack dress, did a great set before the interval.

After the break Ross Sutherland popped a Brucie to let us know whenever he’d finished a poem.

And Luke Kennard was, well Luke Kennard! Everyone was laughing at his surreal prose poems, such as The Six Times my Heart Broke (I think it was called).

Me again, photo by Caroline Watson

Ride the Word XII - Summer Tour – Wed. 29 July, 7- 9.15pm
at The CAFE YUMCHA , 45 Berwick Street, Soho, London W.1
This turned out to be an interesting night. It was great to be on the same bill as the amazing Luke Kennard having everyone in stitches with his surreal prose poems (come along and see him in Chelmsford at Howl on the 28th August, as part of the poetrylink, oh yes I have a small spot there too.)
The lovely Cherry Smith read some deep and very moving poems, despite several interruptions from people arriving, and worse organiser Vincent talking over her to tell people it was alright to come down into the reading.
Mark Norfolk read some poems from prisoners at the prison where he teaches a group & also introduced 2 young poets from Newham where he is writer in residence.
Tom Chivers and Dzifa Benson read for Tears in the Fence, but unfortunately David Caddy was ill and couldn’t be there.
Actress Aletta Lawson read Catherine Eisner’s short story. Jay Merill read a couple of extracts of her prose and her co-host Vincent De Souza read a lot of his poems.
The venue was OK, much like the Poetry Café basement (with the same acoustic problems), but with no alcohol on sale
Went down the road to have a drink in the Endurance afterwards with Judy Brown, Katrina Naomi & her partner Tim, and a jolly good time we had there putting the poetry world to rights.

My first collection How To Build A City was launched alongside new books from Abi Curtis and Luke Kennard two Saturdays ago, and here is the video evidence. It was a great night, hosted by that charming genius Ross Sutherland – the venue (The Slaughtered Lamb) was absolutely rammed, and consequently pretty hot and sticky. Also, a troupe of burlesque pole dancers had been using the space before us – really. Thanks to everyone who came along. To those who didn’t, you know what to do.

Also, here are some photos.

All photos copyright Jack Carr 2009.

 
 
  
Your Name Has Been Randomly Selected
Tom Chivers
 
Pennie Rakestraw emailed details of my order;
she claimed it helped performance in the bedroom.
 
Freuden Ginnery agreed and lodged himself between
the hard drive and the fan. He squeaks his sales pitch
 
on reboot. Morace Shakoor was kind enough to send me
excerpts from Victorian novels (he knows my taste),
 
cut up and reassembled as techno-futuristic porno;
all tongue and motor, bonnets upturned in the mud.
 
I let the Trojan in. I’m nice like that. Besides,
I got the note from Hartshorne Settlemire,
 
installed the relevant import hooks and re-subscribed;
ham, bacon and eggs (my account is blocked)
 
converted to plain text by Waynick Quibodeaux,
who knows a thing or two about naming.
   
  
From How to Build a City (Salt Publishing, 2009).
  
Read more about Tom and How to Build a City here.
  
Visit Tom’s blog.
  
Launch
 
How to Build a City (Tom Chivers), Unexpected Weather (Abi Curtis) and The Migraine Hotel (Luke Kennard) will be launched on Saturday, 13 June (8pm), at The Slaughtered Lamb, 34-35 Great Sutton Street, London, EC1V 0DX. Entrance is free. Ross Sutherland will be your compere for the evening. The reading will begin at 8.30pm.

Wondering what to read this summer? There’s a 20% discount at the Salt shop… and the selection above, while I can vouch for most of it personally, is but a drop in the ocean. I haven’t even given you the ones with differently-formatted pictures! That includes Don Share, Philip Nikolayev, Valeria Melchioretto, John Wilkinson, Robert Archambeau, Giles Goodland… to name but a few. I’ll vouch for them, too. (And for Me and the Dead.)

This recession is scary. In case you hadn’t noticed. Salt Publishing supremo Chris Hamilton-Emery left a note on the Poets on Fire message board this morning, saying:

As many of you will know, we’ve been struggling to keep Salt moving since June last year when the economic downturn began to affect the press. Our three year funding ends this year: we’ve £4,000 due from ACE in a final payment, but cannot apply through Grants for the Arts for further funding for Salt’s operations. Spring sales were down nearly 80% on the previous year, and despite April’s much improved trading the past twelve months has left us with a budget deficit of over £55,000. It’s proving to be a very big hole and we’re having to take some drastic measures to save the business. We’re cancelling all UK publications for the remainder of this year. A truly awful decision to have to make, with so many books, almost all of them, at final proofs. I’ll be leaving Salt over the next few months.

We’ve not gone bankrupt, and will still be trading on our backlist and our substantial new list. We’ve published over 200 ISBNs in the past twelve months, and the front list of new titles and debuts is the strongest we’ve seen for some time. Salt will probably become a much smaller business from this point. We’re keeping our offices and Jen will continue to run the press.

It’s been a remarkable journey. Nine years of my life, and I’ve come into contact with thousands of writers almost all of whom have provided support, advice and friendship. It’s with great sadness that I write this note. I thought I could establish a sustainable non-funded literary press, but I’ve failed to pull that off, the economy has finally beaten all our efforts. If I had to guess, I think we were little more than a year away from financial stability. Really very close. Though we’d have probably needed support to grow and develop for at least another five years. Our genre is a tough one.

I’d like to thank everyone here, and all the hidden readers, as this board has considerable outreach, you all have my admiration for your commitment to the art. I’ll write something more formal about the business in the coming weeks; I’m a little too emotionally drained right now and still trying to contact some authors. There are still a few opportunities to find some financial support, but I rather think my time has now run out.

I’ll restate the point that the press is still afloat, and still needs your support to stay afloat. That means buying books, and I’m sure you’ll forgive the plug in this context. If you want Salt to survive in any form, go and buy some summer reading. There are some truly wonderful books just out. I hope you enjoy them.

Now, it is impossible to quantify the impact Salt has had on the poetry landscape in the UK. First of all, they have simply published great numbers of people who would not otherwise have stood a chance in the existing climate of shrinking lists. By the same token, they have expanded the idea of the main stream – which is another way of saying they have made lots of poetry, accessible interesting lively poetry, available to you, the readers, no matter what your tastes. One author (whose book I hope will still come out) wrote to me earlier today: “What Salt have done is take poetry and sell it like there’s no reason it shouldn’t be up there with decent literary fiction. Salt don’t treat readers like children, or weirdos. And, frankly, they are the most important element (outside writers themselves) behind the shift in direction in poetry over the last 10 yrs towards a more open-field approach, where you can like Armitage and Prynne at the same time, and not get shafted by either camp.” And that’s before you even address Salt’s fearless marketing strategies and their amazing technological fearlessness… Salt is all about the future. Let’s keep it that way.

Good news is coming through that some of the forthcoming titles can possibly still be published. We, that is the poor huddled authors and their friends, are waiting for details. I don’t believe all is lost. As Chris says, there is a hefty list to trade on here; and as Scarlett O’Hara says, tomorrow is another day!

I’m not just saying all this because they’re my publisher. They are my publisher precisely because I was so excited about what they were doing. I never sent a manuscript anywhere else. In the meantime I will leave you with our doughty but exhausted publisher’s closing words:

Please buy just one book, right now. We don’t mind from where, you can buy it from us or from Amazon, your local shop or megastore, online or offline. If you buy just one book now, you’ll help to save Salt. Timing is absolutely everything here. We need cash now to stay afloat. If you love literature, help keep it alive. All it takes is just one book sale. Go to our online store and help us keep going.

UK and International
http://www.saltpublishing.com/shop/index.php

USA
http://www.saltpublishing.com/shop-us/index.php

Aw, gwaaan… There’s free postage over £30. And you can get a sturdy burlap Salt tote bag to put them all in. And you have me to show you the ones I like! |(Editing in: in fact, see my other post where I’m offering personal shop assistant services.)

My first collection, How To Build A City (Salt Publishing), is being launched on Saturday 13th June at The Slaughtered Lamb in Clerkenwell. Joining me to launch their own new books are Luke Kennard and Abi Curtis. Ross Sutherland will also be appearing, in the combination-lock role of poet/compere. It’s shaping up to be a good night.

When?
Saturday 13th June, 8pm (readings 8.30-9.30)

Where?
The Slaughtered Lamb (downstairs)
34-35 Great Sutton Street
London EC1V 0DK (Map)
Nearest tube: Farringdon/Barbican

Free entry. Books will be available to buy on the night.

There’s a Facebook event page here…

I’ve been out and about a fair bit this last week, handing out flyers for London Word Festival of course. A promoter’s job is never done.

Firstly, The Poetry Society’s annual lecture at The Bishopsgate Institute on 31st January. This is where I organised London Lip with Iain Sinclair et al. and I’ll be seeing quite a bit more of The Bishopsgate and its lovely staff over the Spring when I take up my official poetic residency there. The lecture was given by the US-based Irish poet and critic Eavan Boland (above). A striking speaker whose poise lent her words an air of urgency. But not as fierce as she looks in the photo! As she explained, the topic was ‘The Cartography of Poetry’ – ie. a state of the nation address – but she would limit herself to an evaluation of ‘the political poem’. An apt topic, I thought, and something more potentially controversial than, say, a reappraisal of the sonnet or the villanelle (as Boland herself pointed out). It’s also a topic that has been much in the mouths of writers and literary commentators. Since the millennium, we’ve had 9/11, Afghanistan, Iraq II and 7/7. And all that political instability alongside a growing sense of the threat of climate change. All of this brings the private, the domestic and the personal into the open, and forces writers and artists to question the value and purpose of their work.

Boland began by citing the well-known literary bust-up between Denise Levertov and Robert Duncan, a dispute founded on their divergent views on ‘public poetry’. Specifically, Duncan resented Levertov’s involvement as a writer in the Vietnam protest movement and considered her political poems not only to lack, but to actively betray, the poetic imagination. Duncan’s own position is that ‘the poet’s role is not to oppose evil but to imagine it’. This example sets up a number of complex distinctions, both ethical and aesthetical, which I won’t even try to unpack here. Boland herself argued (and it’s a position I applaud) for ‘a disabling of the either/or’ approach to poetry. She also spoke of the need for ‘a rich, diverse and risky poetry’. This last adjective is most important and gives away her true position on the Duncan/Levertov argument – Boland calls for a political poetry that takes risks, that avoids easy conclusions.

‘The political poem is a way of writing myself to the position to ask questions.’ (Boland)

I’m with her on that. When ‘political poetry’ resembles the lazy doggerel Pinter and Harrison came up with in response to the Iraq war, it’s not worth reading – that kind of work is politically and artistically safe; it asks no questions; its constituency is self-assured to the point of being self-regarding. Preaching to the converted, in other words. Rather, Boland advocated ‘a disintegration of we’. I’m with her on that too. That’s partly why I like Chris McCabe’s work (see below…).

Lastly, Boland touched on the politics of the environment, prophesising future conflict over nature poetry between, on the one hand, eco-poets who are socially, environmentally and politically engaged, and, on the other, those who espouse a largely Romantic, Wordsworthian approach (the latter being the more popular and well-established). Or to put it her way – a battle between a natural world which provides moral/spiritual instruction for the poet, and a natural world scarred and violated by human activity. This made me think of David Caddy’s work – rooted in the natural world and a small rural community, but international in character and politically and socially engaged. Readers might also be interested to note that political poetry, and specifically writers’ responses to climate change, is the subject of Making Nothing Happen, one of my London Word Festival events at The Bishospgate. Friday 29th February with Mario Petrucci, Melanie Challenger, Caspar Henderson and Neil Astley.

If there’s anything I took issue with in Eavan Boland’s lecture, it’s that I don’t really believe in a clear distinction between the political poem and the non-political poem. In many ways, all poetry, all acts of representation, are inherently political. I guess I agree with Jamie Wilkes on this one. So the argument is not between political and non-political, but between different kinds of politics. Then again, perhaps it’s just a matter of semantics…

The rest of the evening was spent in The Water Poet, Folgate Street with Simon Barraclough and Isobel Dixon (whose responses to this post I await!). We wedged ourselves in the only space not entirely overrun with loud city workers – the pool room. Conversation ranged from poetry (obviously) to soap operas. Coronation Street was a favourite of mine and Simon’s, whilst Isobel introduced us to the South African soap Egoli (meaning ‘Place of Gold’). I also argued hard for The Bill, which I was missing at the time.

Then onto The Troubadour,West Brompton (above) on Monday night to witness the long-running Coffee House Poetry series coming head-to-head with Salt Publishing. A whopping ten Salt poets read (though I missed one or two, sneaking in during Tamar Yoseloff’s set) in the atmospheric basement venue. All the poets I saw were excellent and representative of the diversity of Salt’s growing stock of writers. Particular highlights for me were Isobel Dixon, Luke Kennard and Chris McCabe.

Isobel’s work is gently pervasive. She reads with a confidence and firmness that belies the lyrical lilt of her poetry. Every consonant of her finely-tuned lines is articulated, which I like. All too often poets rush through readings, aiming no doubt to capture the rhythms of speech, but ultimately mushing all the language into some comforting but unrecognisable pulp. I remember a particularly good line of Isobel’s about how her father’s beard hid a small face, or something like that. I paraphrase. Clive James is also a fan of Isobel’s book A Fold in the Map.

It’s always a pleasure (I initially wrote ‘joy’ then crossed it out) to hear Luke Kennard read. I’d heard a few of the poems he performed before – like ‘The Murderer’ for instance. His newer work was excellent too; in particular a piece about a couple meeting in an elephant’s graveyard. Luke’s a proper satirist, and also a very nice man with a fine selection of jackets. His poetry is popular even with people who don’t really like poetry, like the barmaid at The Troubadour, who asked him to post her a copy of The Harbour Beyond The Movie. This is always a good sign.

The real highlight of the evening was Chris McCabe, who I’ve known since I published a poem of his in Keystone (Issue 5, 2004). Chris works in The Poetry Library on the South Bank and has recently become a father for the first time. His work combines linguistic experimentation and plenty of tonal disharmony with a genuine accessibility and, importantly, wit. I’m never shy about giving my opinion, so here it is: Chris is the most exciting poet currently writing in London. There you go, I’ve said it… His first book The Hutton Inquiry is an impressive debut but too long and a bit patchy. His second book, also from Salt, is due out this year, and if I remember correctly from our conversation is entitled Zeppelin. I for one can’t wait. In fact I don’t have to, because David Caddy has accepted some of his work for the forthcoming Tears in the Fence. My recommendation? If you get the chance to see Chris read, take it up.

 
 
 
The Forms of Despair
Luke Kennard

We returned from the war happier, arms around our shadows –
Who claimed to be older than us. They told great jokes
  
And lay around barefoot, hair precisely
Unkempt, cigarettes hissing and glowing like christmas lights.
  
Only our fiancées were tired and bothersome,
Having forgotten how to love, or vice versa.
  
Some had moved to factories in other cities,
Others, when pressed, said, ‘No-one’s forcing you to put up with me.’
  
We went skating with our shadows,
Huddled under fir trees drinking sausage tea.
  
Inquisitive sheep collected around our camp;
It was good to be among the ice storm and the believers.
  
We described the funny pages to Simon – who had lost both his eyes
But the jokes didn’t work so well in description.
  
  
First published in The Migraine Hotel (Salt Publishing, 2009).
 
Read about Luke and The Migraine Hotel here.