The use of abstract nouns in contemporary poetry

First off, the point of departure for this post is the premise that no part of language should be off-limits or banned for poets. Writing is tough enough without forsaking a chunk of the toolbox.

However, there are a few lexical elements that seem fraught with danger. One obvious example is adverbs, which CW tutors are notoriously wary of their students employing. I actually (sic) love them!

Another is the use of abstract nouns, which feel far more troublesome to my mind. Why? Well, because they can mean so many things to so many individuals, social groups and nationalities, even within a single language. Let’s take the example of freedom. Its connotations would be hugely different for a Remainer or a Brexiteer, for instance! When a poet uses this word, they lose control over the effects that their choice of language may have on the reader.

And of course, once we get into the art of translation, this problem deepens even further. For example, la democracia in Spanish necessarily becomes democracy in English. But its baggage for a Spaniard who lived through la transición a la democracia (following Franco’s dictatorship) is very different from its multitude of meanings for certain English speakers from specific points in the political spectrum (need I say more?!). This is one key reason why translating an abstract-heavy poem is a huge ask.

So where am I headed? Towards two main conclusions. The first is that I’m very uncomfortable with poems packed with abstract nouns that all lead to so many potential ramifications beyond the poet’s own interpretations of them. And secondly, there’s definitely an opportunity for poets to play with those very issues within a poem, though I do feel the focus is best placed on exploring a limited set of abstracts in one go. Too many, and the reader inevitably becomes disorientated.

But that’s enough of my opinions. What about yours? What’s your approach to the use of abstract nouns in contemporary poetry…?

Forthcoming on Cortázar...

My article on Julio Cortázar's poetry is forthcoming in Issue Three of the Madrid Review, out on 14th February...

Three readings in February

I've now got three in-person readings lined up for my trip over to the U.K. in February... The first of them is at the Faversham Literary Festival on 22nd Feb. I'll be appearing alongside Christopher Horton and Mat Riches. The event starts at 4.30 p.m. and the venue is the Guildhall. My second reading, meanwhile, is in Chichester as part of the South Downs Poetry Festival. I'll be the Guest Poet at the New Park Centre on 26th February, kicking off at 7.30 p.m.. And last but not least, I'll be the guest poet in Cowden Pound in 27th February. The venue on this occasion is the Queens Arms Pub, beginning at 6.30 p.m.. It would be great to meet any Rogue Strands readers on my travels...!

A changing of the guard...?

Whenever I see a shortlist, I always feel the greatest insight can be gained by looking at who isn’t on it, rather than who is.  As a consequence, in light of the T.S. Eliot readings last Sunday, I had a quick trawl through the PBS bookshop for releases in the four quarters of 2024 (the main chunk of books that might have been eligible) and noted that the following significant poets were all absent from the shortlist (among many others, of course): Ian Duhig, Ruth Padel, Niall Campbell, Kathleen Jamie, Rory Waterman, Claudine Toutoungi, Carrie Etter, Jamie McKendrick, John Burnside, Paul Muldoon, Jackie Kay, Imtiaz Dharker, Hugo Williams and Gillian Clarke.

The nature of a ten-person shortlist is that many deserving poets will inevitably miss out. However, all of the above might have hoped for inclusion on the basis of the C.V.s and/or the recent reviews in broadsheets, etc, of their eligible collections.

Some might say there’s a changing of the generational guard at play here, especially in terms of the likes of McKendrick or Burnside, who obtained significant success in this prize (and in the Forwards) in the past. Others, meanwhile, might suggest that the changing of the guard is more aesthetic.

It might well be that tastes are shifting at the top table of U.K. poetry prizes. This doesn’t mean, however, that younger poets are not emerging within a similar poetic profile to those older poets who’ve slipped through the shortlisting net. It simply means their work doesn’t fit with current trends. In fact, several of the poets on the above list are far from their dotage.

I’d suggest an analogy with winemaking. When I first entered the trade, rosés were expected to possess a deep and/or bright pink tone, whereas these days the vast majority of customers demand an onion-skin style. Which style is better? Neither. Both can be ace. Both can be awful. But I do admire the few contemporary winemakers who prefer to continue making their rosés with a bright pink colour despite contemporary fashion, thus staying true to their own interpretation of the genre in the face of lower sales and less critical recognition. And the same goes for poetry.

In short, I’d argue that there’s no actual changing of the guard in U.K. poetry. Several different and equally valid approaches to the genre are co-existing as they always have done. The only movement has been in terms of taste at some major prizes and publishers. And as we know, those tastes will shift again, often in a cyclical pattern. The key thing, as poets and readers, is that we remain brave enough to stay true to ourselves, to trust our own instincts, whatever our preference.