Beowulf today

I studied Beowulf at Leeds University over 40 years ago under Tom Shippey (worth looking up if you don't know who he is). Or, to be completely honest, I was young and nervous and sat watching this brilliant, unnerving, sexy man trying to enthuse us, while I tried to hide, comprehending little, and therefore missing a great chance to really appreciate this work - probably. Apart from Shippey himself, what I remember is struggling to understand Old English and hoping that we'd be given a clue as to what was going to come up in the exams. Which is not a great way to remember Beowulf.

When it first came out, I read Seamus Heaney's Beowulf, but probably wasn't in the right place for it at the time. I've just re-read it and have finally found myself in the right place to appreciate it. I'm still not in a position to argue over the merits of reading this 'poetic translation' over reading the original. Heaney covers this in his introduction (as well as the experience of students studying it at university - I was not alone.)

What I have done this time is loved the language and the story, and seen how the best works transcend time, and in the following passage, I think you'll see what I mean:

'A Geat woman too sang out in grief;

with hair bound up, she unburdened herself

of her worst fears, a wild litany

of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,

enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,

slavery and abasement. Heaven swallowed the smoke.'

How do you read a poem?

There are hundreds of books, articles, courses, blogs, etc which address this question. There are also a large number of different, sometimes complementary, sometimes conflicting, answers.

The somewhat bizarre reason that I'm raising the question again now is a recent article in an established magazine about Philip Larkin, and something which, it is argued, impacted on his life and poetry. I found this on Twitter, and am not sure whether or not I'm glad I read it. I'm not giving a link, because you may not want to read it. (Except now you're really curious about it, aren't you?)

So, does a poem stand isolated from its author, or from its historical and cultural background? Do you just read a poem and see what it means for you/how it makes you feel, or do you do a close reading of the poem, based entirely on the text in front of you (and, of course, your knowledge of prosody, etc), or do you look at it in the context of what you can find out about the poet, their background, the time, place, etc when/where it was written. (I'm not going to list all the possible factors that could influence the poet and the poem - I'm sure you know what I mean.)

The question has been often raised about whether a poem should have explanatory notes, if for example, there are refs to Greek mythology, which not everyone may be familiar with, or whether it's up to the reader to make the effort to seek out that information, or whether the poem may well stand without that specific knowledge, or indeed, whether there should be references at all in a poem which the 'average' reader may not understand. No definitive answers on that question yet.

The question, based on the Philip Larkin article, could now become whether a poem should (also?) have explanatory notes that cover such biographical factors as may have affected the poem. Of course, in many cases, this information already exists with the better known poets - in introductions to collections, or in separate biographies, etc. Most poets, when a poem or collection is published, supply some biographical info, even if it's only where they live and where else they've been published. Reviews and blurbs often go into more detail about, for example, disability, sexuality, culture, class, etc, but not the detail given in this article, as far as I know.

So, to what extent, can or should, a poem stand alone? To what extent should the poem itself be able to convey its context, its intention? For example, I have mental health issues, which sometimes I want to explore in my writing, but sometimes it's just a background to my writing. Do I need to tell you that, or should whatever I write convey that, when it's relevant to do so? And when is it relevant? (Not here, for example.)

Which leads, of course, to the poet's intention. What does the poet want to convey, and how best to do that? What can the poet assume about the reader, if anything? How much can you put in one poem, or even a collection, to convey everything you want to convey? How much do you leave to the reader to work out, or find out? And what, if like Larkin, probably, you don't want the reader to know, or maybe you do, but not explicitly? 

Do you judge a poem by the poet? What if, as has happened to me, you've read a poem, and you think, wow, that's brilliant (or some more literary response than that) and then you find out the poet is really not the great person you hoped they'd be (or worse). Yes, people you may not like can actually write poems that you do like. Except now you know what the poet's like, it's ruined the poem for you (probably an exaggeration). I'm not suggesting this article on Larkin would have that effect. Whether you like or dislike Larkin's poems or the man, such as you know anything about him from what you've read - and don't forget biographies (and autobiographies) are selective/subjective too - this new 'fact' is, at the very least, likely to prove a distraction when reading the poems. Is that a good thing? 

You will gather I don't have the answers to these questions. I don't think anyone has. It's up to the individual, probably, to decide. But therein lies the difficulty - because people will often write or talk as if their view is right, rather than a suggestion, and also give you information that you didn't necessarily want (because it's impossible to completely block out this information - sorry). And, clearly, all of this can affect not just how you read a poem, but how you write one too.  

Access to nature

I watch the presenters on wildlife/nature programmes, walking through the empty countryside, enjoying the beautiful views, the flora and fauna, and I think: I want to be there - or at least out and about. Some people can get out into nature. Some can't. Access to nature is a topic covered in numerous articles and official papers and is a vast subject. This is just my view, doubtless coloured by how I feel right now. 

It's not a straightforward issue, because different people want different things, obviously. For example, how do we protect the feeling of actually being in nature? If everyone has access to nature and uses it, then you could find you've gone out into a crowd rather than into nature, unless you go somewhere really wild, and, oh yes, less accessible. Difficult to reconcile the two. There's also the issue of protecting nature, not damaging it, while out enjoying it.

I am very lucky in that I live near the sea, on an island with wonderful habitats for nature, where, theoretically, I could walk for miles or just sit and observe. But I can't walk for miles - I have MS, my legs are not as strong as they were and I have real balance issues and can fall very easily. Many of the places I want to see I need a car to get to, and some places now charge for entry too. There are other issues as well, which I'll get to. But I'm still one of the lucky ones, because, with help, I can still get out and about, but oh, how nice it would be if I could do it on my own. Oh, and I have a small garden, so I can go there.

But large numbers of people don't have a garden, or a local green space, let alone access to nature reserves or the wide open spaces of the countryside. And if they can get there, will they be able to get about independently? Wheelchair users and people with disabilities of all kinds may find navigating open spaces difficult, if not impossible, on their own. Many places are not accessible by public transport and most places where you go by car, if you have one, now charge for parking and/or entry, so it's also a question of whether you can afford it.

Women often don't feel safe alone on the streets. There is no good reason why they'd feel any safer in natural open spaces. You could go in a group - which can be great, if you're a group sort of person - but what if you're trying to get away from everyone and everything? You just want peace and quiet and nature. Some people like groups, some like crowds, but some want to be on their own, at least some of the time. And if you don't feel safe, you can't.

It's also about feeling you belong. People from ethnic minorities are less likely, statistically, to go out to natural spaces. There are many reasons for this, but part of it is their feeling that they don't belong. I'm not equating them, but there are other ways too that you may not feel you belong. What if, for example, you're not an expert birder, or you haven't got the 'right gear', or you're not a dog-walker or cyclist, or you feel too old, too young...? There is no implied criticism of these 'categories', but when you go out somewhere, if you don't feel you 'fit' with others in that particular space, for whatever reason, you just may not feel comfortable. That's not to say there aren't lots of people and places which are friendly and welcoming to all, but you can't always know in advance what a place is like, and it can still be limiting. One bad experience can put you off. Again, it's about freedom for each person to experience nature in a way that feels safe and right for them. 

In terms of health benefits, it is now far more widely acknowledged that getting out into nature can be good for people suffering with some mental health problems, like anxiety and depression (and also for some people with certain physical conditions, and indeed, everyone), though, of course, it's just one of many things needed. And again, it's only any good if it's something people can access easily, freely and safely. Otherwise, it's still only available to those who have green spaces on their doorstep, or who can afford it, and/or have someone to take them and support them while they're there. If you suffer from anxiety, as I do, you may not want to be among other people that you don't know. If you suffer from depression, as I do, you may not feel better knowing you're dependent on someone else. When it works, it's great, and I would definitely endorse the idea of it, but it doesn't work for everyone all the time.

Everybody's different. Everyone has their own circumstances to deal with. Like I said, I'm lucky in many ways - despite the issues I have, I can still get out and enjoy nature at times, even if it's not exactly as I would want to. So many people can't. And I really don't think that's getting any better. The need to invest in nature is an issue which is well-documented, but words aren't yet matched with sufficient action. We need also, I think, to ensure that the positive experience of being out in nature is preserved, and that all people can enjoy nature in a way which is right for them, without excluding, or being to the detriment of, others - and that means thinking about the needs of different people, enabling them as appropriate, increasing understanding, and looking at the difficulties that can arise - and that's a really major issue that will take a lot more thought, and action, to resolve. 

Birds and poetry

I am pleased to be part of the feature on birds and poetry in the current issue of Bird Watching magazine, and to be able to share how and why birds play a part in my poems. The feature illustrates some of the many ways that birds can inspire, or appear in, poetry. 

I'm not going to repeat what I said in the feature, but you can get some idea of my thoughts, if you want, from some of my earlier posts. Likewise, there are so many great poets who you could look to, if you wanted to see more bird poetry - see eg, my post, The poetry of birds - 30 March 2020. 

My own poems which feature birds vary enormously. Most typically, they are like the following poems, the first being the one in Bird Watching Magazine, the second published in Sarasvati, poetry magazine (Indigo Dreams Publishing) in 2018.

Common Redshank

I will call across the mudflat

and answer your call.

I will search with you along the tideline

and flicker-fly with you when the sea returns.

But sometimes I will stand alone

at the end of a groyne as the waves lap round

and just stare out to sea.

(untitled)

in chill morning sun

grass sparkles; banks of purple

lift above the sea;

oystercatcher's distant call:

remember this was the dream

Birds and poetry both play an important part in my life, so it's not surprising that they overlap at times. I hope that others will also find inspiration from birds or poetry, or maybe even both.

2021 - A review where poetry and life are not separate

Another tough year. I've felt at times that I've disappeared from my real life, and only occasionally popped up to cry out or to give thanks from a distance. The following are the various things and people from outside my walls which/who have kept me going this year (in vaguely chronological, but no other, order).

The birds in my garden.

Victoria Bennett - To Start the Year from its Quiet Centre

Vicky Allen - Broken Things and other Tales

Michael Rosen - Many Different Kinds of Love

The birds on my infrequent trips outside.

Jacqueline Saphra - One Hundred Lockdown Sonnets

Kate Fox - The Oscillations

Simon Armitage - A Vertical Art

Julie Stevens - Quicksand and Balancing Act

BBC Springwatch and all related programmes

Louisa Albani - The Journey to my Sister's House... (with the wonderful words of Astra Bloom)

Lee Mack finally scoring at Soccer Aid 

The fox seen from my window

Daniel Sluman - Single Window

Jane Burn - Be Feared

Bird Watching magazine

Rose Ayling-Ellis and Giovanni Pernice on Strictly

Under the Radar magazine

Sarasvati magazine

Dara McAnulty - Diary of a Young Naturalist 

All those who have supported what little writing I have put out into the world this year - including Matt Merritt, Hedgehog Poetry and Alzheimer's Society, and those supporting poetry generally including Matthew Stewart, Dave Bonta, The Friday Poem and #TopTweetTuesday @blackboughpoems.

The tweets, blogs and support of Rob @RobsBirding and all the other birders also posting wonderful photos and videos, including Paul Hayes @paulhayes55, Jack @birderjack. April @angelscherished and so many more.

Those who are fighting for Social Care and mental health and all the charities that keep people from going under.

The tweets and ongoing support of Astra Bloom and Jo Eden.

The birds in my garden.

Apologies if I've forgotten anyone - some days I can't even remember what day it is.

With renewed thanks to all, and wishing everyone a better year ahead.

A poetic exercise in positivity.

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

 

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said. 

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

Talking poetry

So what's your poem about?                             Me

Isn't that a bit...egotistic?                                  If I don't write about me, who will?

Well, if you were worth writing about...                Everyone is worth...something.

Of course.                                                        Everyone has their own story to tell.

The personal crafted to be universal?                  What?

Nothing. Carry on.                                             No-one knows me like I do.

No, they know you as they do.                           Well, I want them to know my side.

So, what are you going to say?                          I'm going to say who I am.

You're going to be honest?                                 Not necessarily...not entirely.

But then, you're not really telling...                      Well...not everything.

But you said...                                                  Yes, but... it's complicated.

You want them to see the best of you?                Maybe... yes.

And who are these people?                                 Anyone, everyone.

Why should you care what they think?                 I don't know.

So what will it achieve?                                       At least I'll have connected with people.

Who you don't know.                                           But they'll know me.

Or your version of you.                                        What if I'm completely honest?

It'll still be your version.                                       But it will be me.

They may not see it that way.                              Why?    

Like I said, people see things their way.                So you're saying there's no point?

No. Just don't get your hopes up.                         But I want to be seen.

You could get out more.                                       But if I write it, it will last.

If it gets published, and even then...                      Well, at least I'll have written it.

For yourself?                                                       Yes.

But you said...                                                     Go away.

OK, just one more thing...                                    What? 

Who reads poetry anyway?