My review of Stewart Sanderson's first full collection, The Sleep Road (Tapsalterie, 2022)) is now up at Wild Court. In both individual and collective terms, The Sleep Road is a significant collection. You can read my review via this link.
Massive news for me: HappenStance Press will publish my second full collection in November 2023. I’m delighted/chuffed/overjoyed, etc, etc, to have the chance to work again with Helena Nelson, one of the best editors around.
What’s more, HappenStance books are gorgeous objects in themselves. Now to keep chipping away at my ms, only sixteen months to go…!
I'm pleased to report that I've got two new poems in the forthcoming issue of Poetry Birmingham. What's more, they're in excellent company...
My article on Ben Wilkinson's poetry is now up at The Friday Poem, tracing his development from his first pamphlet through to his second full collection, Same Difference (Seren Books, 2022). Here's a small taster...
...Same Difference sees Wilkinson concluding a process that began with The Sparks, resolving the co-existence of accessibility and erudition in his poetry, and employing a coherent and cogent method that combines allusion and directness of speech. By resolving these potential clashes and making them work in synch he’s already generated an approach that’s highly unusual in the context of contemporary UK poetry...
You can read it in full by clicking on this link.
How would you describe poetry’s role
in your life? As a job, a hobby or a vocation?
For me, it’s definitely not a job. However,
the fact I don’t use poetry as a means to generating my primary source of
income doesn’t mean it’s any less important to me, nor does it mean my own
poems are any worse (or better!) than stuff by people who do. Moreover, in my own personal case, viewing poetry as a job would kill off my capacity to write. This is because poems are ring-fenced in my mind as one of the few parts of my life in which I can do as I please without worrying about the fallout!
But then the term ‘hobby’ makes my hackles rise immediately. It insinuates I might be playing at being a poet, categorising my writing
alongside stamp collecting or trainspotting. And it also gives the impression
that poetry plays a secondary role in my life, which isn’t true.
And what about ‘vocation’?
There’s a concern it might sound pretentious or feel like a pose, but it’s the
word that works best for me. It doesn’t mean I necessarily spend umpteen hours
a day writing poetry, but then I’d argue anyway that the genre doesn’t require or
even benefit from lengthy periods at a desk. Instead, poems are often better
for being filtered through lived experiences. My life feeds into my poetry and
my poetry into my life. And that interwoven relationship is the reason why writing poems
is a vocation for me.
Having recently read a few gorgeous lyric poems that failed to transport me anywhere at all, I found myself (yet again!) wondering why.
Once more, I reached the conclusion that supposedly universal lyricism without context is just beautiful language that floats in a vacuum without an anchor. It's to be admired rather than absorbed.
In my view, one ideal way to achieve universality in a poem is via a specific frame of reference. This is crucial to the ability of a poem to create a credible new reality that enlightens and transforms the reader's pre-existing imaginary world.
Contrary to certain critical beliefs, the specific is a pathway towards the universal and never deserves to be disparaged as unambitious. In other words, so-called anecdotal poetry is capable of generating power that reaches far beyond its initial modest confines. The supposed anecdote is simply a point of departure...
Dear
Camilla,
Fingers crossed this letter finds you
in good health and still enjoying poetry!
I’m afraid I can’t quite remember your
face from my reading at the New Park Centre four years ago, though I do just about
recall resisting a dodgy joke about the royal family while checking the
spelling of your name and signing your brand-new copy of The Knives of
Villalejo. However, I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days,
ever since my friend spotted that very copy at the Oxfam shop in Chichester
last week and whizzed a photo of it over to me.
On the one hand, I hope you enjoyed it
and then passed it on, rather than regretting your purchase. And then, of
course, I hope that you yourself chose to give it to Oxfam. Far too many books
in charity shops are from personal libraries that have been dispersed by
relatives (see my blog post about Peggy Chapman-Andrews from a few years back).
And on the other hand, I’m writing to
thank you for granting me this poetic rite of passage: the first time my book
has been spotted at a charity shop. I’m pleasantly surprised not to feel
annoyed at all that it might have been discarded. Instead, I’m excited to
wonder about the prospective new life it’s been given. As soon as I get
back to Chichester, I’ll be popping in to the Oxfam shop to find out whether
it’s found another owner.
In other words, I'm proud of joining the ranks
of the charity shop poets. I've always loved second-hand books, and my collection's now among them! For that, Camilla, I’ll always be grateful to you.
All the best,
Matthew Stewart
