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Showing posts with label interview. Show all posts
Showing posts with label interview. Show all posts
Monday, May 23, 2022
Friday, March 15, 2019
Robbi Nester's "Narrow Bridge": A Poetry Review and Interview
Book Review
Legal Disclosure Notice: I received a free review copy of the ebook in order to write this review; I was not paid.
Robbi Nester, Narrow Bridge, (Main Street Rag, 2019) 88 pages, poetry, price unknown at the time of this article's publication.
Robbi Nester's new book "Narrow Bridge" sets up a grand theme. The epigraph reveals that the narrow bridge of the title is a metaphor for life and fearless engagement with it. "Trafficking in immensities is dangerous," she says in the poem "Conversation" and in "Giant Manta Ray": "The solidity of earth is an illusion." One is thus set up to enter a quest of breaking life into its "shifting particles," a phrase Nester uses twice.
In reality, the collection is tamer than one would expect. The imagery is crisp as if placed under surgical light. There are a lot of references to science, water, and the moon. At its best, the music is superb with lilting, sonorous alliteration and beautiful phrases that taste like ripe fruit on the tongue:
"...mantis shrimp constant as castanets
booming grunts and groupers."
- "The Making"
At its worst, it comes perilously near the whimsical. Not that there is anything wrong with whimsical, but that particular effect is somewhat jarring in a collection that purports to traffic in immensities. Those immensities live below the surface for the most part.
You will find immensities most in Nester's deceptively plain poems about her childhood and various memories, where she seems to be "searching for the source of sound" ("Blue Wings"), but to find them one must spend some time meditating on them. After interviewing Nester (see below) and learning some of the actual history behind these childhood reminiscences - and sharing some commonalities with them in my own background - I wish for a less gentle, mannered approach, for "a waking dream [that] might shock imagination from its sleep" ("Blueprint").
In the end, the overall emotional impression of the book is nostalgia, like looking at old family photos without knowledge of the gritty, real-life stories behind them. "Narrow Bridge" would have benefited from a less scattered, sharper, rawer approach. The immensities have been washed over by the waves of time and polished a bit too much. That said, Nester has an undeniable way with the music of language that makes this collection a delight to read aloud.
* * * * * * * * *
Interview
S.R.: What sparked your interest in poetry and what influenced you to publish?
R.N.: I have written and read poetry my whole life. My great-uncle, Isaac Rosenberg, killed at age 26 in WWI in France, was a famous poet and painter. He was born in London, of parents who had immigrated from Lithuania, fleeing from pogroms. His first oil painting, a portrait of my maternal grandfather, hung in our house, and now hangs in my house. It was impressed upon me early and often that I had descended from a noted writer and artist.
As for what made me want to publish, that didn't happen till I got to college. For many years, it was mostly just rejection slips, but my first publication was actually during college, in a journal affiliated with the school, but not a student publication. It took a while before I began to publish substantial numbers of poems, which wasn't all that long ago, starting perhaps in 2000.
All writers want to be heard. I especially have felt the need for an audience. I love reading my work to an audience, and began doing that early, perhaps 30-40 years ago.
S.R.: The overall feeling I got from "Narrow Bridge" was nostalgia. What does the metaphor of the narrow bridge mean to you and how does this play out in the collection?
R.N.: I wouldn't say I am nostalgic exactly. It's more complicated than that. I had a very difficult childhood. Both of my parents were mentally ill to some degree. My father, though he could at times be very sweet and charming, was fairly often violent. His family was embarrassed by his condition, and never reached out to offer help, preferring to hide it.
My mother's family lived abroad, all over the world. They were a faraway refuge I dreamed of. The library provided a closer refuge, right across the street.
But I have always had quite complete and vivid memories of my childhood, and think of them often. Some of these memories are very painful, the feelings still very raw and alive. Others are serene or magical. Both of these varieties of memory are treated in my work. My previous book, Other-Wise (Kelsay, 2017) , was full of poems in the first category, though there were a few of the other kinds of memory poems too. This book may have more of the second variety.
S.R.: Many of the poems involve childhood memories and family members. How did these shape your relationship to poetry?
R.N.: One of my first published poem was one about my grandmother. She was mysterious, telling me nothing about her family history. Even the name I knew her by was an assumed one. Anyone who knew those secrets is dead now. I wrote partly to sort out my complicated feelings about these people.
S.R.: How does your sense of place affect your work?
R.N.: It affects me to the degree the memories are attached to particular places--the house I grew up in in Philadelphia, and the neighborhood beyond it, Virginia, the green hills of Western Massachusetts and the dunes of Provincetown, California, in all of its variety, Israel, where I visited relatives on both sides of my family in 2014.
S.R.: Do you have a philosophy of poetry that you try to convey throughout your body of work as a whole and how does "Narrow Bridge" accomplish this?
R.N.: I don't know if I have a philosophy of poetry. I certainly have a preference for strong images, accessibility, poems that strike the note of sound and sense.
S.R.: What do you believe is poetry's role (and/or the poet's role) in modern society?
R.N.: Poets, like all writers, need to tell the truth as they see it, both personally and politically, even if this makes them unpopular.
S.R.: How do you think future generations will see your work?
R.N.: It is nice to imagine future generations will see my work. I am a modest person. I hope that happens. I am not sure how people in the future will read my work. Perhaps it will recall for them places and things from their own experience, or maybe it will read like a historian's or paleontologist's notes on things long past.
S.R.: What advice do you have for young poets who are just beginning?
R.N.: Quell the desire for praise. Read, revise, and listen. Read journals, go to readings and open mics, take classes and workshops. Experience the world and take an interest in everything.
S.R.: Where are you going from here? (Future projects or thoughts on moving forward?)
R.N.: I hope I will be writing many more books. I will continue working on three manuscripts--one a compendium of all the poems I have written about women, one a collection of Ekphrastic poems without their images, perhaps to be published alongside a website or with links to images online, and the next general collection of poems.
Thank you for speaking with me today!
Legal Disclosure Notice: I received a free review copy of the ebook in order to write this review; I was not paid.
Robbi Nester, Narrow Bridge, (Main Street Rag, 2019) 88 pages, poetry, price unknown at the time of this article's publication.
Robbi Nester's new book "Narrow Bridge" sets up a grand theme. The epigraph reveals that the narrow bridge of the title is a metaphor for life and fearless engagement with it. "Trafficking in immensities is dangerous," she says in the poem "Conversation" and in "Giant Manta Ray": "The solidity of earth is an illusion." One is thus set up to enter a quest of breaking life into its "shifting particles," a phrase Nester uses twice.
In reality, the collection is tamer than one would expect. The imagery is crisp as if placed under surgical light. There are a lot of references to science, water, and the moon. At its best, the music is superb with lilting, sonorous alliteration and beautiful phrases that taste like ripe fruit on the tongue:
"...mantis shrimp constant as castanets
booming grunts and groupers."
- "The Making"
At its worst, it comes perilously near the whimsical. Not that there is anything wrong with whimsical, but that particular effect is somewhat jarring in a collection that purports to traffic in immensities. Those immensities live below the surface for the most part.
You will find immensities most in Nester's deceptively plain poems about her childhood and various memories, where she seems to be "searching for the source of sound" ("Blue Wings"), but to find them one must spend some time meditating on them. After interviewing Nester (see below) and learning some of the actual history behind these childhood reminiscences - and sharing some commonalities with them in my own background - I wish for a less gentle, mannered approach, for "a waking dream [that] might shock imagination from its sleep" ("Blueprint").
In the end, the overall emotional impression of the book is nostalgia, like looking at old family photos without knowledge of the gritty, real-life stories behind them. "Narrow Bridge" would have benefited from a less scattered, sharper, rawer approach. The immensities have been washed over by the waves of time and polished a bit too much. That said, Nester has an undeniable way with the music of language that makes this collection a delight to read aloud.
* * * * * * * * *
Interview
S.R.: What sparked your interest in poetry and what influenced you to publish?
R.N.: I have written and read poetry my whole life. My great-uncle, Isaac Rosenberg, killed at age 26 in WWI in France, was a famous poet and painter. He was born in London, of parents who had immigrated from Lithuania, fleeing from pogroms. His first oil painting, a portrait of my maternal grandfather, hung in our house, and now hangs in my house. It was impressed upon me early and often that I had descended from a noted writer and artist.
As for what made me want to publish, that didn't happen till I got to college. For many years, it was mostly just rejection slips, but my first publication was actually during college, in a journal affiliated with the school, but not a student publication. It took a while before I began to publish substantial numbers of poems, which wasn't all that long ago, starting perhaps in 2000.
All writers want to be heard. I especially have felt the need for an audience. I love reading my work to an audience, and began doing that early, perhaps 30-40 years ago.
S.R.: The overall feeling I got from "Narrow Bridge" was nostalgia. What does the metaphor of the narrow bridge mean to you and how does this play out in the collection?
R.N.: I wouldn't say I am nostalgic exactly. It's more complicated than that. I had a very difficult childhood. Both of my parents were mentally ill to some degree. My father, though he could at times be very sweet and charming, was fairly often violent. His family was embarrassed by his condition, and never reached out to offer help, preferring to hide it.
My mother's family lived abroad, all over the world. They were a faraway refuge I dreamed of. The library provided a closer refuge, right across the street.
But I have always had quite complete and vivid memories of my childhood, and think of them often. Some of these memories are very painful, the feelings still very raw and alive. Others are serene or magical. Both of these varieties of memory are treated in my work. My previous book, Other-Wise (Kelsay, 2017) , was full of poems in the first category, though there were a few of the other kinds of memory poems too. This book may have more of the second variety.
S.R.: Many of the poems involve childhood memories and family members. How did these shape your relationship to poetry?
R.N.: One of my first published poem was one about my grandmother. She was mysterious, telling me nothing about her family history. Even the name I knew her by was an assumed one. Anyone who knew those secrets is dead now. I wrote partly to sort out my complicated feelings about these people.
S.R.: How does your sense of place affect your work?
R.N.: It affects me to the degree the memories are attached to particular places--the house I grew up in in Philadelphia, and the neighborhood beyond it, Virginia, the green hills of Western Massachusetts and the dunes of Provincetown, California, in all of its variety, Israel, where I visited relatives on both sides of my family in 2014.
S.R.: Do you have a philosophy of poetry that you try to convey throughout your body of work as a whole and how does "Narrow Bridge" accomplish this?
R.N.: I don't know if I have a philosophy of poetry. I certainly have a preference for strong images, accessibility, poems that strike the note of sound and sense.
S.R.: What do you believe is poetry's role (and/or the poet's role) in modern society?
R.N.: Poets, like all writers, need to tell the truth as they see it, both personally and politically, even if this makes them unpopular.
S.R.: How do you think future generations will see your work?
R.N.: It is nice to imagine future generations will see my work. I am a modest person. I hope that happens. I am not sure how people in the future will read my work. Perhaps it will recall for them places and things from their own experience, or maybe it will read like a historian's or paleontologist's notes on things long past.
S.R.: What advice do you have for young poets who are just beginning?
R.N.: Quell the desire for praise. Read, revise, and listen. Read journals, go to readings and open mics, take classes and workshops. Experience the world and take an interest in everything.
S.R.: Where are you going from here? (Future projects or thoughts on moving forward?)
R.N.: I hope I will be writing many more books. I will continue working on three manuscripts--one a compendium of all the poems I have written about women, one a collection of Ekphrastic poems without their images, perhaps to be published alongside a website or with links to images online, and the next general collection of poems.
Thank you for speaking with me today!
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Talking with Lia Parisyan
S.R. You seem to be various in your approach to writing and other arts. What is it that draws you to poetry in particular?
L.P. I have always been drawn to sound and imagery. I like painting a picture for readers and listeners. Poetry has been an outlet for me to express my joy, grief, doubts- it’s very therapeutic, and it appeals to me because the page is more a witness than a judge.
S.R. How would you describe your writing style and what influences you?
L.P. Eclectic. I consider myself a Symbolist. I am influenced by color, the spirit world, and my day-to-day surroundings.
S.R. Do you recall the first poem you read? Please, share the experience.
L.P. The first poem I ever read was in Armenian. It was set to music, and it was about a famous battle. The imagery was so vivid, and made a lasting impression on me because I felt like I was in midst of it.
S.R. In your blog, you hint at being well-traveled. Where are all the places you've travelled to?
L.P. I have lived in Santa Catarina, Brazil, and Yerevan, Armenia. I have travelled to Mexico, Turkey, Turks & Caicos, most of the United States’ East coast, Canada, NKR, and Holland. I hope to travel more. My next destination will be Thailand.
L.P. I have lived in Santa Catarina, Brazil, and Yerevan, Armenia. I have travelled to Mexico, Turkey, Turks & Caicos, most of the United States’ East coast, Canada, NKR, and Holland. I hope to travel more. My next destination will be Thailand.
S.R. How have these impacted your writing?
L.P. Brazil and Armenia had a profound impact on my writing as I was introduced to new words, ideologies, colors, and traditions. The sea, the moon, jewels, and remnants of the Old World often appear in my poems and prose.
S.R. Armenia seems to have a special something for you due to being part of your ancestry. What is your relationship to it and how did visiting there help you to grow as a poet?
L.P. I have always wanted to experience Armenia. I am part Armenian, part Syrian, and part mélange. My family on my mother’s side is from Syria, and are part Armenian and part Arab, and my father’s side is from Turkey. I am a child of the diaspora, and the culture I experienced was a mix of French colonialism, Arab Modernism fused with American suburbianism. It was difficult growing up because there was never a sense of belonging; I had a fragmented identity, and going to Armenia helped me realize how unique the culture is in Yerevan and other cities, and how the “Armenian” culture I experienced was so different from what I experienced abroad. It helped me reassess my values, helped me explore new themes, and helped me realize that I didn’t have to belong, and could create my own space and identity. Many of these ideas are making their way into my newer poems, and it’s an infant theme that I would like to develop further.
S.R. What projects are you working toward?
L.P. I am working on an Art Collaborative in the Bronx, and I hope to link writers, artists, poets, photographers, etc., to have them explore themes together, create new discourses, and give them the opportunity to have physical spaces for expression and exhibitions.
L.P. I am working on an Art Collaborative in the Bronx, and I hope to link writers, artists, poets, photographers, etc., to have them explore themes together, create new discourses, and give them the opportunity to have physical spaces for expression and exhibitions.
S.R. Who would you like to work with in the future and why?
L.P. Honestly... Eminem. He was the person who made me think about words and really want to write. I watched an interview with Eminem and Anderson Cooper a while back, and saw that he too had a box of scribbles, and writes on everything from matchbooks to receipts to hotel stationary. It was nice to know there was another compulsive writer out there. I also have a love of euphony, and he’s a genius when it comes to playing with sounds and extended metaphors.
S.R. Where do you see yourself in 10 years poetically?
L.P. I would like to publish a book of photographs and poems. I see myself traveling, and creating Photo-Poem/Prose books that aim to capture an image and the essence of a moment.
S.R. What advice would you give to an aspiring poet?
L.P. Write every day. Don’t judge yourself too harshly. Sit and observe a place and person, write down your observations. Look at recurring themes and images, see how you can develop those further.
Learn more about Lia Parisyan on Facebook
Sunday, July 13, 2014
An Interview with Poet Ellyn Maybe
(Originally published on Yahoo! Voices on May 24, 2012)
Ellyn Maybe is a formidable figure in contemporary American poetry today. Her work in fusing the so-called separate arts of music and poetry into one art form has been groundbreaking. Her most recent work, a CD of her poems set to music called "Rodeo For The Sheepish", continues to garner praise and notoriety wherever it is heard or performed. This interview was conducted via email on May 11 and 12, 2012:
S.R.: What was it that drew you to poetry in the beginning?
E.M.: When I was living in Manhattan, I was walking by a bookstore and a poem came to me inspired by something that I saw through the window. Something tends to spark a poem and then the poem comes quickly.
S.R.: What is it that you hope to achieve with your work?
E.M.: Resonance.
S.R.: What is it that most inspires you in your daily life?
E.M.: The arts. Watching a YouTube clip of Leonard Bernstein talking about Beethoven or seeing Ray Charles doing Ring of Fire or hearing Lou Reed singing Perfect Day are inspiring, stimulating things for me which I thrive on. Plus, I work at a literary center so I see a lot of poetry readings and other various events, including film screenings, talks, etc. I also attend events around Los Angeles. I've been doing that for many years.
S.R.: What would you say is the most exciting or fulfilling thing your work in poetry has given you opportunity to do, and why?
E.M.: My poetry has been nourished and appreciated which has led to some really amazing things. It's an ongoing process.
S.R.: Is there a specific opportunity or event that stands out to you? Why was it particularly special for you?
E.M.: When Greil Marcus, the amazing music writer, got in touch to write about Rodeo for the Sheepish, it was a very touching experience. He had heard half of City Streets on KALX in Berkeley. When your work impacts people whose work you admire, that is incredible. Many years ago, I gave my chapbook to Howard Zinn and Michael Parenti and they both wrote back lovely things immediately. That was amazing.
S.R.: Why are you so drawn to music, and what further projects do you have in mind to bring your passions for poetry and music together?
E.M.: I've always found music a kindred language. I'm planning to do another album with my band and continue writing and performing with them.
S.R.: What were your objectives for "Rodeo For The Sheepish" in particular? What do you think could have been done better? Do you feel that it has lived up to those objectives?
E.M.: I didn't have particular objectives for Rodeo for the Sheepish. It happened somewhat spontaneously and we were very happy how it turned out. The fact that The Ellyn Maybe Band now exists is awesome. We're writing songs together and have performed in Ireland and at the Glastonbury Festival in the UK as well as Shakespeare and Company in Paris.
S.R.: What are your other hobbies/passions? How would you like to bring them all together some day?
E.M.: Film, theater, art. I would like to collaborate in these various art forms. Expand my horizons. Some of this is already taking place. I wrote a book of poems inspired by my cousins' nature photographs. I would love for Rodeo for the Sheepish to turn into a musical someday, but don't really know when that will happen. Five videos have been made for the songs on Rodeo and there are ten tracks so, hopefully, they will all have a video someday.
S.R.: In a lot of ways poetry is as much about humor, play, and having fun as it is about serious issues and art. Which of these would you most like readers/listeners to take from your art? Or do you prefer a balance between them and why?
E.M.: I hope the mixture is something that people find compelling. Humor and sadness dwell in there and hopefully add to the emotional landscape.
S.R.: What do you think is most important for a poet in this digital age? Do you think it helps or hinders the art?
E.M.: I think connecting with others is very important and also finding community. It's crucial and I have found it to be helpful. Being computer savvy helps with social media, that sort of thing, but you don't have to be too technical to do it.
S.R.: What would you like to see change for poets?
E.M.: It would be truly awesome if the financial situation would get a bit brighter!
Ellyn Maybe's FaceBook
Learn more about Beyond Boroque
Buy "Rodeo For The Sheepish" on Amazon
Ellyn Maybe is a formidable figure in contemporary American poetry today. Her work in fusing the so-called separate arts of music and poetry into one art form has been groundbreaking. Her most recent work, a CD of her poems set to music called "Rodeo For The Sheepish", continues to garner praise and notoriety wherever it is heard or performed. This interview was conducted via email on May 11 and 12, 2012:
S.R.: What was it that drew you to poetry in the beginning?
E.M.: When I was living in Manhattan, I was walking by a bookstore and a poem came to me inspired by something that I saw through the window. Something tends to spark a poem and then the poem comes quickly.
S.R.: What is it that you hope to achieve with your work?
E.M.: Resonance.
S.R.: What is it that most inspires you in your daily life?
E.M.: The arts. Watching a YouTube clip of Leonard Bernstein talking about Beethoven or seeing Ray Charles doing Ring of Fire or hearing Lou Reed singing Perfect Day are inspiring, stimulating things for me which I thrive on. Plus, I work at a literary center so I see a lot of poetry readings and other various events, including film screenings, talks, etc. I also attend events around Los Angeles. I've been doing that for many years.
S.R.: What would you say is the most exciting or fulfilling thing your work in poetry has given you opportunity to do, and why?
E.M.: My poetry has been nourished and appreciated which has led to some really amazing things. It's an ongoing process.
S.R.: Is there a specific opportunity or event that stands out to you? Why was it particularly special for you?
E.M.: When Greil Marcus, the amazing music writer, got in touch to write about Rodeo for the Sheepish, it was a very touching experience. He had heard half of City Streets on KALX in Berkeley. When your work impacts people whose work you admire, that is incredible. Many years ago, I gave my chapbook to Howard Zinn and Michael Parenti and they both wrote back lovely things immediately. That was amazing.
S.R.: Why are you so drawn to music, and what further projects do you have in mind to bring your passions for poetry and music together?
E.M.: I've always found music a kindred language. I'm planning to do another album with my band and continue writing and performing with them.
S.R.: What were your objectives for "Rodeo For The Sheepish" in particular? What do you think could have been done better? Do you feel that it has lived up to those objectives?
E.M.: I didn't have particular objectives for Rodeo for the Sheepish. It happened somewhat spontaneously and we were very happy how it turned out. The fact that The Ellyn Maybe Band now exists is awesome. We're writing songs together and have performed in Ireland and at the Glastonbury Festival in the UK as well as Shakespeare and Company in Paris.
S.R.: What are your other hobbies/passions? How would you like to bring them all together some day?
E.M.: Film, theater, art. I would like to collaborate in these various art forms. Expand my horizons. Some of this is already taking place. I wrote a book of poems inspired by my cousins' nature photographs. I would love for Rodeo for the Sheepish to turn into a musical someday, but don't really know when that will happen. Five videos have been made for the songs on Rodeo and there are ten tracks so, hopefully, they will all have a video someday.
S.R.: In a lot of ways poetry is as much about humor, play, and having fun as it is about serious issues and art. Which of these would you most like readers/listeners to take from your art? Or do you prefer a balance between them and why?
E.M.: I hope the mixture is something that people find compelling. Humor and sadness dwell in there and hopefully add to the emotional landscape.
S.R.: What do you think is most important for a poet in this digital age? Do you think it helps or hinders the art?
E.M.: I think connecting with others is very important and also finding community. It's crucial and I have found it to be helpful. Being computer savvy helps with social media, that sort of thing, but you don't have to be too technical to do it.
S.R.: What would you like to see change for poets?
E.M.: It would be truly awesome if the financial situation would get a bit brighter!
Ellyn Maybe's FaceBook
Learn more about Beyond Boroque
Buy "Rodeo For The Sheepish" on Amazon
Friday, July 11, 2014
"Marrow" Featured on SpicyLetter.net
Other reviews, guest blogs, and promotions for "Marrow" since its publication to the present can be found as follows:
Field Recordings: "Sabne Raznik goes for the Marrow"
OwenSage.com: "Let's Get to the "Marrow" of the Matter" by Sabne Raznik
So, I Read This Book Today ...: "Fund Raiser For St. Jude's Hospital - 100 Copies Available!"
Other past interviews:
Pebble In The Still Waters: "Author Interview: Sabne Raznik: Poet, Writer and Member of Academy of American Poets"
A Short Conversation with Poet Kit Fryatt
(Originally published on July 10, 2008 on Yahoo! Voices.)
I first met Kit Fryatt through Livejournal.com (I have since deleted my account there) when she wrote an entry regarding an event she attended at which Bono of U2 fame read and gave her thoughts on the whole affair. Being an avid U2 fan, I was highly entertained by that entry in which she was not at all pleased. Since we share a common love of poetry, we continue to correspond and I have learned much from her over the last few years. She is an unfailing support to me poetically. She is also a very good writer as well as teacher and has been published, among other numerous journals, in the Poetry Ireland Review. As a way to give back to her, I asked her for an email interview to be published here on AC (Associated Content, later Yahoo! Voices). Without further ado, here are the results of that interview:
S. R.: Where and when were you first exposed to poetry? How did you come to love it?
K. F.: I don't remember: the first poems I heard were nursery rhymes, probably. I remember laughing and laughing at a silly rhyme my father used to say: "Spring is sprung, the grass is riz / I wonder where the birdies is?" I never got tired of that. I have memories of writing poems on a paper napkin in a restaurant when I was 7. One began "A knight / In sight / On a horse / Of course", which I think has a certain modernist flair. I learnt poems by heart at an American school for military children in Izmir, Turkey. Rose Fyleman:
I think mice are rather nice,
Their tails are long, their faces small,
They haven't any chins at all.
Their ears are pink, their teeth are white,
They run about the house at night;
They nibble things they shouldn't touch,
and no one seems to like them much,
but I think mice are rather nice.
When we were still in Turkey, my mother brought home a copy of the New Golden Treasury, not Palgrave but a new selection chosen in the 70s by Edward Leeson. Books were a special event: even in Ankara, the capital, there were only a couple of bookshops that sold English-language books. There I found:
Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springeth the wude nu,
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Awe bleteth after lomb
Lhouth after calve cu
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, sing cuccu
Ne swik thu naver nu!
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,
Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!
That's from the 13th century, and it's really just a slightly -- ever so slightly: note that farting buck -- more sophisticated version of my dad's rhyme. I had a cult of Old England going on at the time, despite or because of being surrounded by the remains of much more ancient cultures in Asia Minor, and I was hooked. I think rhyme and repetition hooks children into poetry, but it's a sense of the strangeness of language that keeps them reading.
S.R.: Which poets are the greatest influence on your work and why?
K.F.: Not for me to say, I think. Influence is a slippery thing. You might think a poet is heavily inflected by Auden or Yeats and I mightn't hear it at all. I've never tried consciously to imitate anyone, except in parodies, but I find I'm always unconsciously imitating. Sometimes imitating very bad stuff.
S.R.: Are there non-poetic influences, such as environment, other interests, etc.?
K.F. : Of course: anything and everything can be material. That said, the Irish bardic schools allegedly encouraged their pupils to compose indoors, in darkness. There's something to be said for sensory deprivation, too.
S.R.: As an academic, do you feel that is beneficial to poetry or not, and why?
K.F.: I'm lucky: I get a lot of pleasure out of close analysis. Sometimes a poem won't really ravish me until I've done the forensics on it. That's not true for many people I think, even some who end up studying English at university. Students often complain that they dislike "dissecting" a poem; a revealing metaphor, because they see the poem as a corpse to start with. I tell them it's not dissection; it's vivisection, except you can't hurt a poem by torturing it, luckily. As for poets making their living in the academy: poets need their patrons; always have.
S.R.: Give a brief anecdote of an experience in your life or at a literary function that has impacted you as a poet.
K.F.: I think all the experiences that have made an impact on me poetically are experiences of reading poems, which isn't very interesting to talk about. Literary events are usually the reverse of inspiring, though sometimes there is free wine. The poets I know personally -- I think I should like them as well if they weren't poets.
S.R. What is it that you most hope readers will take away from your work?
K.F.: Words. In their particular order.
S.R.: Are there any projects you are working on or ideas for future projects? What makes these appealing to you as a poet?
K.F.: I'm sending myself to poetic boot-camp for the summer. Formal exercises, that sort of thing. Starting over is always bracing.
S.R.: If you could could give an aspiring poet advice in only one sentence, what would it be?
K.F.: I *am* an aspiring poet! I saw this on a medieval mazard bowl in the Cloisters in New York: "Reason bade that I should write, think much and speak little".
S.R.: You are originally from Britain, I believe, but have also lived in
Ireland and Scotland. Would you consider yourself a British poet or an
Irish or Scottish one? How do you think that experiencing these
different perspectives has shaped you as a poet?
K.F.: That's a big and dangerous question. I'm bound to offend someone. I was born in Iran, to British parents. I left when I was ten months old though -- no memories. I spent some time in the south of England, and then my parents travelled with me to Singapore and Turkey. Then I was at boarding school for a year before they finally came back when I was ten. I spent my teens in the south of England and moved to Ireland when I was 21. I've been spending a bit of time in Scotland over the last few months too. National identity -- whatever some critics may say -- I think is rarely to the forefront of a poet's mind when he or she is writing, and yet poetry turns out marked by the regional -- perhaps, rather than the national -- in all sorts of ways. Politically, I'm not a Unionist: I think the United Kingdom has come to a point now where it is no longer really sustainable. I would be happy to see an independent Scotland -- making the island of Ireland a single country has particular political and social difficulties which I think would have to be negotiated very carefully, but given that it's done equitably I think it would be desirable in the end. England and Wales will probably remain as a unit: an independent Wales isn't viable economically. The cultures of the British Isles have their distinct differences but they also share a lot. England is often (especially in Ireland) seen as a monolithic imperial nation, but it's actually very various. I see myself as English within a wider british culture. The small b is deliberate. I think the imperialist conception of Britain, along with English domination of the United Kingdom, should and will come to an end. English people often don't think about this stuff. Their relative power insulates them from it. Well, white English people. There's a very different usage of "British" by English people of colour, because they often feel that "English" is a racial as well as a national marker, whereas "British" is inclusive. I'd like to make my small-b britishness somehow cognate with that. Living in Ireland and Scotland has made me think about these things, which I mightn't have done otherwise -- they make their way into poems sometimes. Quite a lot of Hiberno-English gets into them too, and the odd Scots word which makes its way in via the Scottish ballads, which I love.
Wurm Im Apfel, a small press that Fryatt runs herself.
Find her on Goodreads.
I first met Kit Fryatt through Livejournal.com (I have since deleted my account there) when she wrote an entry regarding an event she attended at which Bono of U2 fame read and gave her thoughts on the whole affair. Being an avid U2 fan, I was highly entertained by that entry in which she was not at all pleased. Since we share a common love of poetry, we continue to correspond and I have learned much from her over the last few years. She is an unfailing support to me poetically. She is also a very good writer as well as teacher and has been published, among other numerous journals, in the Poetry Ireland Review. As a way to give back to her, I asked her for an email interview to be published here on AC (Associated Content, later Yahoo! Voices). Without further ado, here are the results of that interview:
S. R.: Where and when were you first exposed to poetry? How did you come to love it?
K. F.: I don't remember: the first poems I heard were nursery rhymes, probably. I remember laughing and laughing at a silly rhyme my father used to say: "Spring is sprung, the grass is riz / I wonder where the birdies is?" I never got tired of that. I have memories of writing poems on a paper napkin in a restaurant when I was 7. One began "A knight / In sight / On a horse / Of course", which I think has a certain modernist flair. I learnt poems by heart at an American school for military children in Izmir, Turkey. Rose Fyleman:
I think mice are rather nice,
Their tails are long, their faces small,
They haven't any chins at all.
Their ears are pink, their teeth are white,
They run about the house at night;
They nibble things they shouldn't touch,
and no one seems to like them much,
but I think mice are rather nice.
When we were still in Turkey, my mother brought home a copy of the New Golden Treasury, not Palgrave but a new selection chosen in the 70s by Edward Leeson. Books were a special event: even in Ankara, the capital, there were only a couple of bookshops that sold English-language books. There I found:
Sumer is icumen in
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springeth the wude nu,
Lhude sing, cuccu!
Awe bleteth after lomb
Lhouth after calve cu
Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, sing cuccu
Ne swik thu naver nu!
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,
Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!
That's from the 13th century, and it's really just a slightly -- ever so slightly: note that farting buck -- more sophisticated version of my dad's rhyme. I had a cult of Old England going on at the time, despite or because of being surrounded by the remains of much more ancient cultures in Asia Minor, and I was hooked. I think rhyme and repetition hooks children into poetry, but it's a sense of the strangeness of language that keeps them reading.
S.R.: Which poets are the greatest influence on your work and why?
K.F.: Not for me to say, I think. Influence is a slippery thing. You might think a poet is heavily inflected by Auden or Yeats and I mightn't hear it at all. I've never tried consciously to imitate anyone, except in parodies, but I find I'm always unconsciously imitating. Sometimes imitating very bad stuff.
S.R.: Are there non-poetic influences, such as environment, other interests, etc.?
K.F. : Of course: anything and everything can be material. That said, the Irish bardic schools allegedly encouraged their pupils to compose indoors, in darkness. There's something to be said for sensory deprivation, too.
S.R.: As an academic, do you feel that is beneficial to poetry or not, and why?
K.F.: I'm lucky: I get a lot of pleasure out of close analysis. Sometimes a poem won't really ravish me until I've done the forensics on it. That's not true for many people I think, even some who end up studying English at university. Students often complain that they dislike "dissecting" a poem; a revealing metaphor, because they see the poem as a corpse to start with. I tell them it's not dissection; it's vivisection, except you can't hurt a poem by torturing it, luckily. As for poets making their living in the academy: poets need their patrons; always have.
S.R.: Give a brief anecdote of an experience in your life or at a literary function that has impacted you as a poet.
K.F.: I think all the experiences that have made an impact on me poetically are experiences of reading poems, which isn't very interesting to talk about. Literary events are usually the reverse of inspiring, though sometimes there is free wine. The poets I know personally -- I think I should like them as well if they weren't poets.
S.R. What is it that you most hope readers will take away from your work?
K.F.: Words. In their particular order.
S.R.: Are there any projects you are working on or ideas for future projects? What makes these appealing to you as a poet?
K.F.: I'm sending myself to poetic boot-camp for the summer. Formal exercises, that sort of thing. Starting over is always bracing.
S.R.: If you could could give an aspiring poet advice in only one sentence, what would it be?
K.F.: I *am* an aspiring poet! I saw this on a medieval mazard bowl in the Cloisters in New York: "Reason bade that I should write, think much and speak little".
S.R.: You are originally from Britain, I believe, but have also lived in
Ireland and Scotland. Would you consider yourself a British poet or an
Irish or Scottish one? How do you think that experiencing these
different perspectives has shaped you as a poet?
K.F.: That's a big and dangerous question. I'm bound to offend someone. I was born in Iran, to British parents. I left when I was ten months old though -- no memories. I spent some time in the south of England, and then my parents travelled with me to Singapore and Turkey. Then I was at boarding school for a year before they finally came back when I was ten. I spent my teens in the south of England and moved to Ireland when I was 21. I've been spending a bit of time in Scotland over the last few months too. National identity -- whatever some critics may say -- I think is rarely to the forefront of a poet's mind when he or she is writing, and yet poetry turns out marked by the regional -- perhaps, rather than the national -- in all sorts of ways. Politically, I'm not a Unionist: I think the United Kingdom has come to a point now where it is no longer really sustainable. I would be happy to see an independent Scotland -- making the island of Ireland a single country has particular political and social difficulties which I think would have to be negotiated very carefully, but given that it's done equitably I think it would be desirable in the end. England and Wales will probably remain as a unit: an independent Wales isn't viable economically. The cultures of the British Isles have their distinct differences but they also share a lot. England is often (especially in Ireland) seen as a monolithic imperial nation, but it's actually very various. I see myself as English within a wider british culture. The small b is deliberate. I think the imperialist conception of Britain, along with English domination of the United Kingdom, should and will come to an end. English people often don't think about this stuff. Their relative power insulates them from it. Well, white English people. There's a very different usage of "British" by English people of colour, because they often feel that "English" is a racial as well as a national marker, whereas "British" is inclusive. I'd like to make my small-b britishness somehow cognate with that. Living in Ireland and Scotland has made me think about these things, which I mightn't have done otherwise -- they make their way into poems sometimes. Quite a lot of Hiberno-English gets into them too, and the odd Scots word which makes its way in via the Scottish ballads, which I love.
Wurm Im Apfel, a small press that Fryatt runs herself.
Find her on Goodreads.
A Brief Conversation with Irish Poet Michael O'Dea
(Originally published on July 10, 2008 on Yahoo! Voices.)
I contacted Michael first through his website. He humored a young aspiring, but somewhat shut-in, poet by agreeing to correspond with me via email. He has always been encouraging of my own writing, even while continuing to publish books of his own. Often he has been the objective reader I needed to get the most of my efforts. Valhalla: blue, as published in my book Following Hope (Xlibris, 2007), was one of those poems he helped to refine. During that process, my hard drive got a virus and I lost the poem. If not for O'Dea it would never have been published. However, he had a copy of the yet unfinished manuscript on his computer and was able to email it back to me, and thus he saved 2 1/2 years (or 3, if you count mental incubation time) worth of work from oblivion. I asked O'Dea for an interview via email to be posted here on AC (Associated Content, later Yahoo! Voices). These are the results of that interview:
S.R.: Where and when were you first exposed to poetry? How did you come to love it?
M.O.: English was my favourite subject in secondary school, I wrote a few bits and pieces back then; we had, for a while, a stunning-looking English teacher. I didn't start writing in earnest till my thirties when a friend suggested, from listening to my phraseology in speaking, that I should try writing poetry. My first attempts were published; I got cocky instantly and it was some time before others were published but I was hooked by then.
S.R.:. Which poets are the greatest influence on your work and why?
M.O.: Patrick Kavanagh is the biggest influence. He, being from rural Ireland and having the same Irish catholic upbringing, brings the same baggage with him. His territory is familiar to me. But he is a marvelous poet and caught better than any other the issues and atmosphere of twentieth century rural Ireland.
S.R.: Are there non-poetic influences, such as environment, other interests, etc.?
M.O.: Yes, so much of what I've passed through has been grist to that mill. I think the people and the countryside of Roscommon honed my sensibilities and my ear for language. Great art from the likes of Goya or Bacon has suggested the material time and time again as have musicians like Brian Eno whose soundscapes leave me free to roam like tumbleweed in a desert.
S.R.: Until recently, you were an organiser for the annual Rathmines Festival. What do you believe are the benefits and negatives of such events for poetry?
M.O.: Festivals events tend to be more casual than other arts-based events, and in festivals like the Rathmines Festival poetry readings are staged shoulder to shoulder with comedy, music, debate or whatever. As such they have the potential to reach an audience that would otherwise consider them to be too stuffy or high-brow. This is the audience poetry should be striving to reach.The biggest danger is that an hour of turgid poetry will kill them stone-dead in their seats, guaranteeing that neither they nor anyone they talk to will ever come within an ass's roar of a poetry reading again. It's vitally important that the poetry fits the audience.
S.R.: Give a brief anecdote of an experience in your life or at a literary function that has impacted you as a poet.
M.O.: There have been a number and I have referred to them during poetry readings or in the blog. An example I haven't referred to before happened when I read the following poem at a workshop.
Attitude.
Who owns the child
with the withered arm-wings,
who carries the mutation that weighs a tonne;
who, when the air is full of flight, hops
and hops and hops.
See how the children littering the yard
launch like torn pages into careless flight.
Like gulls they hog the sunlight
while a sea wrinkles with worries far below.
This is the currency.
But who owns that child;
the child with the withered arm-wings.
I chose it to get the reaction of a friend of mine whose son is confined to a wheel chair. On hearing the poem she was very upset by the image and did not see that I was condemning the objectifying of people with physical disabilities. I was taken aback, and though I didn't change the poem, I am less convinced than previously that my choice of expression is correct.
S.R.: What is it that you most hope readers will take away from your work as a whole?
M.O.: I suppose the truth is I want their admiration but I am usually conscious of wanting to spread my left-leaning political message.
S.R.: You are currently working on an anthology that will showcase the work of poets from Roscommon. Could you tell us a bit about that and what your hopes for it are?
M.O.: Since the Mayo Anthology appeared there has been a number of similar publications around the country. I'm working on a literary (all forms) anthology of writers either born in or strongly associated with the county. These include Douglas Hyde, Percy French, John McGahern, William Wilde (Oscar's dad) and Oliver Goldsmith (a disputed birthplace). I'm expecting it to be a generous beautiful book, accessible, educational and entertaining. I'm also hoping that it's publication will be a boost to Roscommon writers writing currently and to that end have recommended that it's publication be accompanied by a series of readings/workshops.
S.R.: If you could give an aspiring poet advice in only one sentence, what would it be?
M.O.: In the developing years have someone you trust, who knows poetry, to squeeze the water out of your efforts.
Read Michael O'Dea's blog.
Michael O'Dea's Website.
Buy the Roscommon Anthology.
I contacted Michael first through his website. He humored a young aspiring, but somewhat shut-in, poet by agreeing to correspond with me via email. He has always been encouraging of my own writing, even while continuing to publish books of his own. Often he has been the objective reader I needed to get the most of my efforts. Valhalla: blue, as published in my book Following Hope (Xlibris, 2007), was one of those poems he helped to refine. During that process, my hard drive got a virus and I lost the poem. If not for O'Dea it would never have been published. However, he had a copy of the yet unfinished manuscript on his computer and was able to email it back to me, and thus he saved 2 1/2 years (or 3, if you count mental incubation time) worth of work from oblivion. I asked O'Dea for an interview via email to be posted here on AC (Associated Content, later Yahoo! Voices). These are the results of that interview:
S.R.: Where and when were you first exposed to poetry? How did you come to love it?
M.O.: English was my favourite subject in secondary school, I wrote a few bits and pieces back then; we had, for a while, a stunning-looking English teacher. I didn't start writing in earnest till my thirties when a friend suggested, from listening to my phraseology in speaking, that I should try writing poetry. My first attempts were published; I got cocky instantly and it was some time before others were published but I was hooked by then.
S.R.:. Which poets are the greatest influence on your work and why?
M.O.: Patrick Kavanagh is the biggest influence. He, being from rural Ireland and having the same Irish catholic upbringing, brings the same baggage with him. His territory is familiar to me. But he is a marvelous poet and caught better than any other the issues and atmosphere of twentieth century rural Ireland.
S.R.: Are there non-poetic influences, such as environment, other interests, etc.?
M.O.: Yes, so much of what I've passed through has been grist to that mill. I think the people and the countryside of Roscommon honed my sensibilities and my ear for language. Great art from the likes of Goya or Bacon has suggested the material time and time again as have musicians like Brian Eno whose soundscapes leave me free to roam like tumbleweed in a desert.
S.R.: Until recently, you were an organiser for the annual Rathmines Festival. What do you believe are the benefits and negatives of such events for poetry?
M.O.: Festivals events tend to be more casual than other arts-based events, and in festivals like the Rathmines Festival poetry readings are staged shoulder to shoulder with comedy, music, debate or whatever. As such they have the potential to reach an audience that would otherwise consider them to be too stuffy or high-brow. This is the audience poetry should be striving to reach.The biggest danger is that an hour of turgid poetry will kill them stone-dead in their seats, guaranteeing that neither they nor anyone they talk to will ever come within an ass's roar of a poetry reading again. It's vitally important that the poetry fits the audience.
S.R.: Give a brief anecdote of an experience in your life or at a literary function that has impacted you as a poet.
M.O.: There have been a number and I have referred to them during poetry readings or in the blog. An example I haven't referred to before happened when I read the following poem at a workshop.
Attitude.
Who owns the child
with the withered arm-wings,
who carries the mutation that weighs a tonne;
who, when the air is full of flight, hops
and hops and hops.
See how the children littering the yard
launch like torn pages into careless flight.
Like gulls they hog the sunlight
while a sea wrinkles with worries far below.
This is the currency.
But who owns that child;
the child with the withered arm-wings.
I chose it to get the reaction of a friend of mine whose son is confined to a wheel chair. On hearing the poem she was very upset by the image and did not see that I was condemning the objectifying of people with physical disabilities. I was taken aback, and though I didn't change the poem, I am less convinced than previously that my choice of expression is correct.
S.R.: What is it that you most hope readers will take away from your work as a whole?
M.O.: I suppose the truth is I want their admiration but I am usually conscious of wanting to spread my left-leaning political message.
S.R.: You are currently working on an anthology that will showcase the work of poets from Roscommon. Could you tell us a bit about that and what your hopes for it are?
M.O.: Since the Mayo Anthology appeared there has been a number of similar publications around the country. I'm working on a literary (all forms) anthology of writers either born in or strongly associated with the county. These include Douglas Hyde, Percy French, John McGahern, William Wilde (Oscar's dad) and Oliver Goldsmith (a disputed birthplace). I'm expecting it to be a generous beautiful book, accessible, educational and entertaining. I'm also hoping that it's publication will be a boost to Roscommon writers writing currently and to that end have recommended that it's publication be accompanied by a series of readings/workshops.
S.R.: If you could give an aspiring poet advice in only one sentence, what would it be?
M.O.: In the developing years have someone you trust, who knows poetry, to squeeze the water out of your efforts.
Read Michael O'Dea's blog.
Michael O'Dea's Website.
Buy the Roscommon Anthology.
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