Posts Tagged 'Poetry'

Confidential

How much can you put yourself into the mind of another individual? It’s not a trick question: though I ask it a lot, I seem to do it a lot too.

My work on Marvell and Private Lives took up most of 2011, and it’s been a wonderful introspective process because the way I’ve symbiotically linked our biographies together has given me license to think as deeply and darkly as I please.

But now, just as I come to wrap this up, there’s something quite subtle which doesn’t add up.

Marvell almost always strikes the reader as the shy, demure sort. Occasionally women are abruptly visible, but otherwise they are teasingly distant, obscured, or absent. He weaves threads of complicated desire behind fastastical themes and layers of honeycombed language.

Honeycomb_FracFx

But perhaps that’s just his writing. After all, his publishing history is thin, and there’s little sign that Marvell placed a great deal of value on the majority of his own poems. Perhaps he’s even embarrassed by them. Why would that be?

Continue reading ‘Confidential’

Agency: Too Much Left Unsaid

What is said, matters. How it is said, matters. To whom it is said, matters. When it is said, matters.

The little nuances of our communication are more intricate and powerful than we often care to believe. How much value do we place on the words ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’? When does ‘never’ mean never? Why does one person’s way of speaking catch our imagination in a different way to another?

After the Fact

I’ve had the privilege of hearing the inspiring Tom Lockwood twice before: at the British Milton Seminar in 2008, and at his Chatterton Lecture on John Donne in 2009 (I’m heard 67 minutes in). His recent presentation at Leicester’s Early Modern Seminar on ‘agency’ presented a particular conundrum which is encountered – as often happens – in study and life combined.

What agency do words have after the fact? If something is said too late, does it matter that it was said at all? What if something is not said, or revealed too late?

Continue reading ‘Agency: Too Much Left Unsaid’

The Invisible Self

As a child, I remember keeping two football posters for any length of time. One was Chris Waddle at Sheffield Wednesday, the other was Gary Speed at Leeds.

Sad times. I lament saying that when encountering the headline ‘Gary Speed found dead’, I knew what the cause would be.

Removing the football side of this story, there was a universally liked and respected individual (which is a real challenge in football), with talent, good looks, a wonderful family. Everyone spoke highly of him, admired his energy, and said how happy he always seemed.

A life, alas, defined by its too-perfect happiness. It’s not a new phenomenon to believe that the happiest people are often the most unstable, and there’s sociological suggestions that the happiest states have the highest suicide rates.

Perfect happiness is a symptom. It’s the perfect mask to the secret invisible self. Continue reading ‘The Invisible Self’

All-Important Questions

Every so often, we hit those defining moments where we ask ourselves the all-important questions. What has made us who we are? Why do we do what we do? Why do we live the way we live? What do we value most in life?

And it’s hard, because to approach such questions risks revealing many difficult answers, or things that we never want to contemplate. I’ve been drawn to revisit a favourite post of mine again, which describes how things that we pretend are complicated are often remarkably simple. And so, with that in mind, I ask myself why I do what I do, and if it reflects the person I am and want to be.

Continue reading ‘All-Important Questions’

New Horizons

Inspired by, and dedicated to, those who didn’t write me off. (And welcome to any students who are looking for information on Marvell and arriving here. Please do contact me if you want any help).

This could be a maelstrom: of sentiments; of changes; of minds and mysteries. Much has changed in recent weeks, with positive challenges and valued rewards. It has been difficult to document it all, and the positivity comes with understandable nervousness and a touch of trepidation.

“The only way is onwards…”

Ideally, we want our lives to lead upwards trajectories. When somebody hits particular heights for themselves, they struggle to contemplate living within or below that potential. That’s the intricate psychology of accomplishment.

My life took such a monumental leap four years ago that when the subsequent falls struck with intent, no amount of trying, support, or soul-searching could arrest the slide, nor console its gravity. And this beautiful little portal came to life, with its artistry, its cadence, and its candour, as sadness drove and inspired my best writing.

I’ve told stories through feelings, and feelings through stories. I’ve read poetry through loneliness, and loneliness through poetry. I’ve discovered Marvell through myself, and myself through Marvell.

Continue reading ‘New Horizons’

Marvell, Glass, and ‘Upon Appleton House’

It is difficult to escape reflection. Mirrors are common enough (and, one might argue, hurtful enough), but windows are often reflectors as well as transparent portals. Personal experience also determines that reflection is there to antagonise the mind as well as to merely display the body. That is the paradigm of glass, a most ambivalent servant.

Ekphrasis becomes a common feature of Marvell’s Interregnum writing, but before it served his Cromwellian verse, these perspective features – of viewing and reflection, of the viewer and beyond – combine in a remarkable way in Marvell’s Upon Appleton House. Marvell’s portrayal of the private Lord Fairfax relies heavily on the construction and reflection of the self through private property and its (often vitrified) representations. Continue reading ‘Marvell, Glass, and ‘Upon Appleton House’’

Behind Closed Doors

When I consider the poetry that inspires me the most, it all seems to have privacy at its root. Perhaps, given an earlier definition of poetry as ‘95% loneliness’, this is not surprising. Yet, not only does poetry have a long tradition of being a public form, but privacy as a theme remains a dark and complex subject that manifests itself in fascinating ways.

Our recent instalment on KUSP Radio, Santa Cruz, a 1-on-1 discussion with Gwynne Harries, was generously dedicated to my favourite poems. The (perhaps surprising) choices to best fit into the parameters of the show were ‘Sestina [September Rain]’ by Elizabeth Bishop, and ‘Porphyria’s Lover’ by Robert Browning, two poems that I’ve known and loved for many years, and which both deal with loss and loneliness from vastly different perspectives. As an addendum to what was discussed on the show, to compare these together offers something striking and special.

The Poetry Show, KUSP / Radio Santa Cruz, California

Continue reading ‘Behind Closed Doors’

‘To His Coy Mistress’? To Her Coy Master

This last week, so spoilt by social activity, the guards slipped and I revealed far too much. Now I must deal with the inner consequences of opening my mouth and letting fingers run too liberally across the keyboard. There are two ways this can go: either rein it back in and keep up pretences, or try to absolve it from the system. Wherever this takes me, then…

Parallel Lines

About 18 months ago, I joked that one of the most irrevocable traces of Andrew Marvell’s life was still rather unfamiliar to me. Now, I daresay, that has changed. In fact, ‘exalting the muse’ might be a useful description. The parallels only ever seem to run deeper…

"With great admiration, and in friendship, and thinking of the next Marvellians"

What most reviews of Nigel Smith’s new Andrew Marvell biography have not addressed is his controversial method of using the poems as evidence in chronological areas of best-fit. It’s brave and highly worthwhile, and a point worth raising because personal engagement with the poet and his troubled private reflections necessarily tempt us into handling evidence differently.

But how differently? Continue reading ‘‘To His Coy Mistress’? To Her Coy Master’

“Finders Keepers, holder Seekers hidden Secrets”: Writing in Cryptics

Finders Keepers, Knightmare S7

Most of us are guilty of this at some point: writing in cryptics. Why do we do it? Why express ourselves in terms that are not meant to be understood? Is it, perhaps, a deep subconscious desire to be public with our privacy? Is it more about reaching out, or being reached out to?

Aside from studying a poet forever burying his truth beneath layers of perplexity (if we are ever meant to find it at all), what interests me is the human tendency to overcomplicate problems, either out of shame, embarrassment or in trying to rescue some moral dignity.

Scenario: person A is in a relationship but goes to spend the day with person B, whom they have always had an attraction to. Person A ends the day feeling sheepish, unsettled and awkward, and explains it off as ‘it’s complicated’. It’s not complicated at all, but a collection of guilt and other unpleasant sensations that determines a distinctly defensive response. The majority of us will tie situations in knots to avoid a palpably and unescapably naked truth.

Continue reading ‘“Finders Keepers, holder Seekers hidden Secrets”: Writing in Cryptics’

Brands of Solitude: Poets and their Nature

The highlight of this year has been participating in recordings for The Poetry Show on KUSP Radio, Santa Cruz. This post is indebted to a discussion of Andrew Marvell’s ‘The Garden’ and Christina Rossetti’s ‘In the Willow Shade’ for our fourth installment which aired on 8th May, the best to date.

The Poetry Show, KUSP / Radio Santa Cruz, California

We all enjoy solitude at points in our lives. Privacy is not just a right, one might argue, but a human requirement. We all enjoy that little realm when the door is shut firmly behind us and we can lapse into self-sufficiency.

The fundamental problem is how to draw the right balance. Managing solitude can be vital to our psychological wellbeing. It is difficult to maintain relationships that have little contact, and even harder to develop new ones. We live in times where it is easy to get lost and forgotten if we do not project ourselves publicly. It is rare that people will come looking for us.

Continue reading ‘Brands of Solitude: Poets and their Nature’

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