Tuesday, 17 May 2011

Cees Nooteboom's Perth angel tour

I find myself returning to Cees Nooteboom - the Dutch writer and poet - and his book Lost Paradise. It is an evocative read with one character encountering another as she plays an angel on a tour of Perth in Western Australia. The angel is unresponsive and cannot speak but the geography of Perth is accurate. My father was born in Perth and it captures for me the impossibility of ever getting to know his city. Only the beautiful interface between a city known well and then abandoned along with a whole country. As Jennifer Vanderbes said in her review of The Washington Post, 'Nooteboom is a novelist of big themes, but he is never heavy-handed. He embeds philosophical musings in observations of the commonplace, so that his ideas sneak up on you, appearing unexpectedly, breathtakingly, like angels hidden in abandoned cupboards.’ –


Paradijs verloren


Nooteboom's travel books are also well worth a look; he wrote one of the best accounts I have read of travelling through Spain. The alluringly named (for me a one-time inhabitant of Galicia) De omweg naar Santiago 1992 (published in English as the Roads to Santiago. Harcourt Brace, 1997) I am also tempted by his stint on a freighter to Suriname in 1957; all to get to Fanny Lichtveld who became his first wife as a result. No wonder. Some of his experiences are recounted in the book De verliefde gevangene (1958). 


More on Nooteboom and his travels here http://www.ceesnooteboom.com/

Sunday, 15 May 2011

Online poetry magazine Jacket is Jacket2

The online poetry magazine Jacket has a new home at the University of Pennsylvania, USA and is now reborn as Jacket2. Jacket itself was for many years one of the definitive online magazines. It was first published in 1997 by Australian poet and publisher John Tranter who continued as its editor throughout. At the time, Peter Forbes writing in the Guardian (UK) called it “the prince of online poetry magazines.” Its ethos, along with a small group of others, helped form a magazine web standard. The new issue was filled up bit by bit while past issues remained online. (Folks, this was new stuff back then). Most of the material was original to the magazine and commissioned, "but some .. excerpted [nice word] from or co-produced with hard-to-get books and magazines, partly to help them find new readers".

Still an interesting modus operandi I feel...


Jacket2 looks pretty good too and we hope it keeps something of its Australian sensibility, rigour and independence: try this on new Brazilian poets for example at http://jacket2.org/feature/new-brazilian-poets, 

Jacket2 is here: http://jacket2.org/.


John Tranter's website is here: http://johntranter.com/00/index.html.

And finally that Peter Forbes' article from 2002 is still hanging around here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/2002/jun/06/internet.poetry.

Friday, 13 May 2011

The Scarlet Fever: Marina Tsvetaeva - Henry Parland 19th May at Russian bookstore, NY, USA

Henry Parland, the Swedish poet and novelist of Russian-Scottish ( Family Parland, originally McFarlaine, considered to have originated from Scotland)-Baltic descent who became one of the founders of modernism in the 1920s Finland. He never set foot in Sweden and never fully mastered the language in which he wrote. Parland died in Vilnus in 1930, at the age of only 22. Parland’s biography is strangely intertwined with the tragic life of one of the greatest Russian poets of the century, her family, and her circle.


Irina Mashinski is a bilingual poet and translator, the author of seven books of poetry in English. Free admission 19 May · 19:00 - 20:00 at Russian Bookstore No.21, 174-176 Fifth Avenue (23&22 Str), Manhattan. Presented by Russian-American Cultural Center and Cardinal Points Journal.

Learn more about Parland's book Reduction (if printing Veloxpapper) , often simply called decomposition published in 1932. I am now longing to read this as the following description reminds me of Joyce, Woolf and Tarantino. Henry and his jealous and drama of love with Ami is the book's main subject which begins with Henry deciding to write a novel about the deceased Ami. The book differs from earlier romantic love stories, Ami and Henry drawn together by chance and Henry "have the most boring of the Amis society". I like this; it is translated by google from Swedish but I think you get what it means. They communicate with gestures, clothes, travelling by car and dining. I would like to compare it Orhan Pamuk's Museum of Innocence; in fact I would like Orhan Pamuk to compare it for me.

Tuesday, 10 May 2011

Where is the Ai Qing Museum?

Ai Qing 艾青 is a Chinese poet and the father of Ai Weiwei 艾未未. Both Ai Qing's museum and Ai Weiwei have gone missing: perhaps in the same place?

Take a look at wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ai_Qing.Scroll down to the other resources and there is a reference to the Ai Qing museum. It is a Chinese site but it has disappeared.

For poets, absence and the space it creates is a powerful force. Those in authority who know why the museum and Ai Weiwei have disappeared would do well to consider that their silence speaks loudly. Their nature and practice is being screamed all around the world by silence.

I would like to go to China and walk with Ai Weiwei in his father's museum. Speak up in the silence if you feel the same.

ai weiwei

Photo: Dan Chung from the Guardian (Dan, I have borrowed this photo but please let me know if you want me to use another.)

More on Ai Qing here: http://french.people.com.cn/french/200401/29/fra20040129_65100.html and on Ai Weiwei's disappearance http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/2011/may/09/ai-weiwei-arrest-protest-exhibition.

Monday, 9 May 2011

3D poetry

Sound artists have introduced us to the idea of sound, phrases or words picked up using, for example, sensors or mics that are randomly triggered and then use an algorithm to form  an original output; one that very often can be repeated with endless variations.








But how about an actual 3D poetic form that stores variations in a designed way; it would have something in common with existing forms like the ghazal, villanelle or pantoum but perhaps more like a 3D chess board stretching up using an appropriate array to store the information.  Perhaps holding a collection of elements that are selected by indices computed at run-time. Grandmasters can hold all the moves in their heads so why can't poets? Folk musician and ballad singers come to mind with their knowledge of lengthy ballads and pieces with the intricate riffs and improvisations that might be used in a performance.

I think poets sell themselves short as to what we can actually manage.

So here goes, a three line stanza but each line can segue into a separate poem; imagine that times three. I feel inspired by the classical poets and  the Romantics who wrote their work on bark and trees (or at least wrote about doing so!); imagine leaves with a line or a word; and now imagine them floating down from the sky...each trajectory making a separate poem.

A job for the summer...




All fun but none of them much to do with the content of this post.

Sunday, 8 May 2011

Shore Poets Edinburgh, Scotland May 29th 2011

Poetry from Paul Batchelor plus Christine De Luca and Bridget Khursheed (editor of poetandgeek.com) with music from The Whole Shebang 7.45 pm to 10.15 (approx) at The Wee Red Bar, Edinburgh College of Art.

Bar open from 7.00 pm. Admission £4 / concessions £3.

lighthouse logo



More on this event and Shore Poets, Scotland's leading platform for live poetry, can be found here:http://www.marcabru.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/

Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Zora Cross tweet poetry


Zora Cross was an Australian poet, writer and journalist  (May 1890 – January 1964). She was born in Brisbane of Irish descent, and known for her poems and independent private life scandalous by the standards of her time. She wrote about sex, war and childbirth.



This is an extract from Love Sonnet 54 (although Zora uses Roman numerals)


 poetandgeek.com 

Dearest it seems my very wants would prove I am yourself dreaming we measure two And lack myself that which yourself supplies