Continued from Poetry Homepage

In the field of poetry, at least, the Oxbridge/London stranglehold was broken years ago so poets from all over the nation are forging ahead, especially from Scotland and the North of England, and many of our leading poets are women. Poetry is still busy infiltrating schools with real, live poets on the curriculum and running workshops. Performance poetry, a genre unto itself, is thriving and producing some of the UK’s most high profile and populist poets, many of whom can be heard on tape as well as in books. (Check out the Apples & Snakes and renaissance one websites). The culture of reading and debating poetry in book groups is also growing. Poetry residencies proliferate and poets have been stationed in football clubs, law firms, tattoo parlours, supermarkets, doctor’s waiting rooms, on trains, and many have held residencies in museums and art galleries (not quite as exhibits on display). The purpose of residencies is to promote and encourage participation in poetry and to inspire new material for the poet.  The UK has a long tradition of adult education centres and also a newer network of literature development agencies which means that any aspiring poet can join a relatively inexpensive poetry workshop, and study with a professional poet.

Next Generation is a list of 20 of the ‘most intriguing new poets’ to be published in the past 10 years. This follows 10 years on from the New Generation promotion which spotlighted twenty poets under the age of 40 who were considered to be the best. Sensibly, 10 years on, age was not a restriction and the latest crop of 20 chosen poets was not touted as an arguably definitive ‘best’.  Organised by the Poetry Society and Poetry Book Society, the Next Generation is a way of introducing poets you might not of heard of yet, but  some of whom may feature as important voices of the future. Of course several significant poets were eligible but did not make the list, but hey, there were seven judges, of which I was one (mea culpa), so nothing was a given.

Some of the poets mentioned here are New Generationers. For the full list visit the Poetry Book Society website.

Catharine Smith’s debut The Butcher’s Hands is a joy to read and her subject matter is quite unpredictable. Take the creepy poem about the man with a disturbing penchant for pregnant women or the poem about the woman who goes into a changing room and pulls off her own skin. The Welsh poet Derryn Rees-Jones’ debut The Memory Tray is wonderfully high-octane and wide-ranging in subject matter, with some great monologues including one in the persona of a cross-dressing ‘Marilyn Monroe’. In Outside the All Stars,  Jonathan Asser writes about a London underground rarely ventured into by more  straight-laced poets. Infusing popular culture with some of the harsher reality of inner city life, his poetry is a record of our urban times, referencing hookers, Jerry Springer, gangsters, So Solid Crew, McDonalds, struggling immigrants, dysfunctional lives, Kylie Minogue, and coke (not the coca cola variety) – to name but a few.

Selima Hill is not a new poet but her writing is more vital and original than most of those who are. Her breathtaking Bunny, a suspenseful, fragmented narrative tracing a girl’s traumatised childhood in 1950s London. Her poetry is so pared down to the bone, yet so loaded,  that it is simply exquisite. In 2004 she published Lou-Lou, also a very concise ‘poetry-diary’ about a woman in a mental asylum in the 1960s. Both books are a riveting read and not at all downbeat. Julia Darling’s debut Sudden Collapses in Public Places ruminates on the sensitive subject of cancer with some very clever imagery, the hospital as metaphor for the body,  and with such bold wit, that the overall effect is not one of dissipation, but a bittersweet celebration. Quite an achievement when writing about a woman with cancer.  The Zoo Father by Pascale Petit is also a very rich reading experience. Petit uses the spectacular imagery of the Amazonian jungle to explore a daughter’s discordant relationship with her dying father.

Henry Shukman has been described as having sprung ‘fully-formed’ with his debut collection In Dr No’s Garden. And it’s true. He shows himself to be as accomplished and versatile a poet as any other out there. So too with Paul Farley’s technically-adroit second collection The Ice Age which is very urbane and very cerebral.

But if you’re looking for a poet whose influences cannot be so easily traced to recent British antecedents, the ambitious Art of Navigation by Andrew Jefferson-Miles (who is of Guyanese origin) rises above the domestic, parochial and personal and is an intellectual challenge. His poems take in South America,  Wales, Heidegger, quantum physics, and history.

Other than Jefferson-Miles, two significant new poets who speak from the UK’s multi-cultural heritage are Dorothea Smartt, whose debut Connecting Medium draws on her British/Caribbean ancestry, childhood, and the myth of a black Medusa; and Raman Mundair, whose debut  Lovers, Liars, Conjurer’s & Thieves draws on her cultural roots in India and the UK . Mundair travels intimately through her physical and emotional landscape, and beyond into political and social issues, such as the racist murder of Stephen Lawrence.

Irish poet Maurice Riordan’s second collection Floods almost stands in a class of its own. Riordan is a very un-flashy poet whose work is permeated with a feral intelligence and quiet profundity as he excavates a childhood in rural Ireland. Riordan seems so out-of-sync with the fads of our contemporary world, that one suspects he might just be one of those to last beyond it. Dart by Alice Oswald also stands out. It is a dense, meandering, riverine-shaped poem based on three years spent recording people’s lives along the River Dart in Devon. She describes not only the fluctuating landscape and seasons but also a host of characters’ voices - living, imaginary and dead. Scottish poet Robin Robertson’s first collection A Painted Field is so craggy, so butch, so rural, so bleak and so timeless that many of the poems seem to evoke another time altogether.  Ground Water, the debut by Matthew Hollis,  explores a less bleak and rugged pastoral landscape than Robertson, including an emotionally literate sequence on his father’s dying. His poems are a gentle respite from the hardness and hurriedness of the UK’s big cities.

Text Me  by Andrew Wilson is something of a novelty, but it works. He originally devised the Guardian newspaper’s text message poetry competition and here each (text) poem contains no more than 160 characters, which the reader is invited to send to friends. It’s a fun idea.  And if you want to check out the really young (11-18 year olds), see the winners of the  Foyle Young Poets of the Year in their anthology Passport Pictures, on the Poetry Society website.

Finally, Ruth Padel’s excellent 52 Ways of Looking at a Poem, is based on her successful column in the Independent on Sunday newspaper (1999-2001), and is a must-have for poetry enthusiasts and novices alike. She has selected 52 poems to de-construct with openness and dexterity. This book is accessible, non-snobby and non-prescriptive (incredibly so for a book about poetry). Padel’s comprehensive introduction looks at many of the key components of recent British poetry, from answering basic questions about form to a deeper investigation into what it means to be writing poetry in the UK today.

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