DLR Poetry Now : A Beautiful Broadside

Poetry Now since it's inception fourteen years ago, the organisers wanted to do something a bit special to mark the poet's upcoming birthday. They delivered - big time! Entitled At the Centre of The Circle, the event saw all seventeen of the festival poets gather onstage to read their personal choice of Heaney poem. I thought it a pity the four poets shortlisted for the Strong Award weren't involved too, but learned afterwards they had the pleasure of tea and sticky buns at the Heaney household earlier - a treat in itself! 

Introduced by John Kelly, some of the guest poets elaborated on the reason for their choice of poem - others simply kept to Heaney's words. The (almost) complete listing of who read what is as follows;

POET	POEM
Chris Agee	Postscript
Paul Batchelor	Docker
Sujata Bhatt	Punishment
Frank Bidart	A Dog was Crying Tonight In Wicklow Also
Eva Bourke	The Blackbird of Glanmore
Colette Bryce	A Sofa in the Forties
Paddy Bushe	Remembering Malibu
Harry Clifton	In Iowa
Ian Duhig	Súgán
Adam Foulds	Mossbawn ; Sunlight
Ellen Hinsey	(didn't read)
Valzhyna Mort	Poem for Marie
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin	The Scribes
Robert Pinsky	The Little Canticles of Asturias
Tomaž Šalamun	The Railway Children
Tomas Venclova	Mid-Term Break (in translation!)
Carol Ann Duffy	Personal Helicon
	Nesting-Ground
	The Seed Cutters
	The Guttural Muse
Seamus Heaney	At The Wellhead
	At Banagher
	In the Attic

All the readings were special in their own way. Paul Batchelor recounted how his choice of poem brought about a teenage realisation that the gruffer details of a working class life were valid material for poetry. Robert Pinsky recalled how his choice was enthusiastically supplied in response to his request to Heaney for the first issue of The Slate - one of, if not THE first online magazines, of which he remains Poetry Editor. Tomas Venclova read expressively in Lithuanian. Carol Ann Duffy's reading was augmented by musical accompaniment (O'Carolan, I think?) from John Sampson and her young daughter Ella - who had the honour of exclaiming a chirpy ' Happy Birthday!' to Heaney as the guest readings concluded.

A birthday present was then unveiled, a texturally rich and atmospheric painting by Hughie O'Donoghue, incorporating a found photo image - ethereal, richly hazed and timeworn in character.

Heaney came to the stage, visibly deeply moved to a rare wordlessness. After a moment or two, composure still faltering, he began to speak and gradually that familiar voice and humour was restored. He spoke of his gratitude, humility and joy before proceeding to read, finishing with In The Attic, a recent poem, of which a commemorative broadsheet was printed for the occasion.

I had the great pleasure of designing this limited edition print - everybody in attendance received a copy, signed by the man himself. It was a personal delight to hear Heaney pronounce himself 'indebted for the beautiful broadside'. The entire theatre; audience, festival poets, staff, family, friends, peers and admirers rose together in a warm, resounding yet intimate ovation. A beautiful broadside indeed.

You can catch a fine flavour of the event in an audio slideshow over at the Irish Times - (coincidentally celebrating a birthday of it's own at the moment) which features the music, Heaney's reading of In The Attic and the photography of Bryan O'Brien & Matt Kavanagh.

DLR Poetry Now : Robert Pinsky, "Born for Death"

The keynote address at Poetry Now was delivered impeccably by Robert Pinsky. The former US poet laureate chose as his starting point Keats' Ode To A Nightingale - or, more specifically, the line;

"Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!"

It was the phrase "born for death" said the poet, that struck him with a surprising sense of exhilaration at a certain stage of life.

He then recounted a conversation with a South African friend, while en route to visiting with a local Sangoma, or spirit diviner. He was told "We Zulus don't worship our ancestors - we consult them". This statement also caused a certain elation - becoming a key consideration while writing his latest collection 'Gulf Music'.

For Pinsky, the resonating and consistent factor in these two references is the placing and perception of a duality - conscious or otherwise - in how we deal with life, death, memory and ancestry in defining ourselves in our own terms; the current, the modern. This is where he sees Modernist writing, from the early 20th century onwards, getting to grips with the human condition. He has written elsewhere that;

“Deciding to remember, and what to remember, is how we decide who we are.”

This theme was a touchstone throughout his address, along with the observation that neither remembering nor forgetting can ever be a complete act. He noted that the name of the river Lethe, which flows through Hades in Greek mythology, means forgetfulness - and how, via Latin, the word 'Lethal' shares the same root.

He spoke about the particularity of Joyce choosing Ulysses as the classical matter for his dealings with the modern - a choice that allowed the writer full reign in embracing those contrary aspects of the modern condition within the framework of myth.

The address culminated in reading the first poem from Gulf Music. “Poem of Disconnected Parts” draws together, in closed couplets, many of the concerns discussed in his address. You can read it here.

Finally, Pinsky provided a Coda of sorts, reading several lines from his own translation of Dante's Paradise.

It all went a little deep for this non-academic at times - yet it was a thoroughly engaging talk. Pinsky's smooth, warm voice had a tactile quality which called to mind expertly crafted woodwork - smooth, warm and running with the grain. Speaking with the aid of notes, occasionally using repetition to stress key points, the flow and control of ideas was remarkable.

The over-arching expression seemed to be a recognition of the freeing potential in embracing the fact that we are all 'born for death'. That in 'tramping down' our ghosts, we allow our ancestors to find their place among our words - not haunt us as ghosts - to our own better, vital understanding of our (inevitably) modern condition.

Coasting : Vineyards from Curses

It's all been a bit dark round here this last week - the bright colours and cheery sounds of Paddy's Day suddenly scythed by one G Reaper Esq. In the shadow of column inches and airwaves bulging with Massareene, Goody, Richardson, Hughes et al, we were shredded far closer to home / heart / gut by an unexpected family bereavement - followed within the same 24 hours by the sad news of a close friend's mother passing away. All far too young. RIP.

It's been difficult to work, difficult to write, just bloody difficult. Now, a week later, we're somewhat less blank, less dumb, but very, very tired. Still here, closer - perhaps a little more alive, or conscious of that state - but very much saddened. Still.

Last Saturday's Grand Slam victory was a heightened and poignant moment - T would have loved it. In his absence - and memory - we celebrated, cried, hugged; a vital release - the stone of grief transmuting into almost-joy. When that last Welsh kick drooped short of the posts, one family member assured us of supernatural intervention from beyond the grave. It's a nice thought - our T, doing his Morph the Cat bit over the Millennium Stadium.

So, life carries on, the blur thins out and I find myself on the doorstep of the Poetry Now Festival again. I made it to Belinda McKeon's opening lecture at lunchtime today. Entitled 'Broken News', she spoke about Phenomenology, in the context of the well-known Auden quote "poetry makes nothing happen' - but also bringing that statement into context, by reminding us of those lesser known lines that come later in his tribute to Yeats..."With the farming of a verse / Make a vineyard of the curse."

With that in mind, I look forward to a few days immersion in the restorative power of poetry. So much quality and variety on offer - AND I managed to get into Frank Bidarts' workshop! I had intended to check out local WiFi options, with a view to some live-blogging throughout the festival. I think that might be a little over-ambitious now, but I'll try to post regularly over the next few days. In honour of the location, the image above is another of my paintings, entitled 'Coast'.

Off now to hear Robert Pinsky's keynote address. Ciao. Hug your loved ones.

Babbling Bookfest : Words of Thanks

Attended Medbh McGuckian’s poetry workshop at the Dublin Book Festival yesterday. A very interesting and useful experience it was too, despite the fact we had to grab our belongings and move en masse to the coffee shop downstairs in the hope of actually hearing one another.

Whoever had the notion that an open-plan workshop in the Rotunda of City Hall would add to the ‘voice chorus’ ambience of the venue, has either no notion of what a poetry workshop entails or doesn’t actually care. So, while thanks are due to the festival organisers - for the opportunity to workshop with one of Ireland’s premier poets – no thanks for plonking us right next to the children’s reading, replete with mandatory high-energy call-and-response. They had the numbers – and amplification – we hadn’t a chance. Even the coffee shop was a stop-gap measure – with plenty of visitor traffic, loud conversation and assorted clatterings – but the commitment of the group was high and things worked out OK.

Unqualified thanks to Medbh, for her steady hand on the tiller, steering us back into our work, pointing out curiousities, resemblances, weaknesses, strengths, resonances and considerations. Superfluous conjunctions and descriptors seemed to be a recurring issue. Also the voicing within the poems – clarity of perspective for the reader wasn’t being pointed up in several cases, including my own - with the attendant danger of confusion, rather than the intended opening of interpretative possibilities.

Thanks to the other participants too, for a stimulating mix of high quality drafts. Inishcrone, Carrantuohill, Kabul, an extinct chapel on D’Olier Street and the dusky tomb of a Mughal emperor were among the places we visited. Along the way we met Corncrakes, snow women, victims of the Taliban, a disillusioned fairytale heroine and a hot nun!

Nice to meet Andrew (currently writing his PhD on Thomas Kinsella), Kate (from round these environs), Chris (hope to see you at Poetry Now) and all the others, including one very quiet, very young woman who said little but blew us away with her elegant and sophisticated love poem, in which ‘white pillars of light’ spotlit silent lovers under ‘bloodied beaks’ of timeless parakeets and a New Delhi dusk.

That reverie was soon dismissed, however, as we spilled onto cool, freshly rain-slicked streets to join the lunchtime crowds returning to work. Having exercised excellent fiscal restraint at the tempting tables of the festival bookshop, I fell at the final hurdle; Books Upstairs on College Green. Their SALE sign tempted me in, some extremely good discounts serving to lighten my whimpering wallet.

Today I’m feeling a bit guilty. Firstly, for criticising the organisers of that rare treat - a free workshop - and then for not even making my impulse buys at their venue! I’ll make a deal - a quiet room for next year’s workshop, please. Then, even if I’m not a participant, I promise to spend my allowance at City Hall.

The festival continues today and tomorrow. Poet and namesake Helena Nolan is reading later today, which I’ll be sorry to miss – but Daddytaxi services are required elsewhere. Full festival listings here.

Clubbing Time : Life beyond Books





If you're in town for the Dublin Book Festival, you might like to make a little detour towards Fitzwilliam Street over the weekend. An exhibition of work from the Thursday night life drawing group is being launched by Irish author Fiona O'Brien at the United Arts Club tonight. This exhibition will run until 29th March, with viewing daily from 5.30pm - this quirkily shabby building only wakes up around then; septuagenarian baggotonians rubbing shoulders with the great, the good, upstart artists, poets, models, rakes, knaves, all sorts really. If you've attended any of Irish Pen's regular events there, you'll know the venue. Founded in 1907, by Countess Constance Markievicz among others, the club celebrated its centenary in 2007 (obviously enough).

Among the artists exhibiting in the show are Brian Gallagher, PJ Lynch, Oisin Roche and Comhghall Casey, winner of the Hennessy Craig Award 2008. The image above is one of two drawings I'm showing in the exhibition.

On a related note, I've an interview with PJ Lynch (in my illustration alter-ego, Scalder) about his most recent book over on the Illustrators Guild of Ireland blog, Scamp.

I'm looking forward to tonight's launch - but will be taking it easy on the hooch, as I've been lucky enough to score one of the places in Mebdh McGuckian's poetry workshop at the Book Festival. So, I need to be bright-eyed and bushytailed for Friday morning! I'm looking forward to this, coming after disappointment at missing the cut for this year's Poetry Ireland Introductions series. Again. Doesn't look like my submission to South was successful either. Ah well, onwards, upwards, wordwards.

An inner émigré : Stepping Stones review

My review of Stepping Stones : Interviews with Seamus Heaney is now online over at Todd Swift's wonderful blog, Eyewear. It's a smashing book for dipping into, full of personal insight and recollection, coaxed into daylight by O'Driscoll.

Just got myself a ticket for the special 70th birthday tribute for Heaney, planned for this year's Poetry Now festival - yay! My understanding is that the festival poets will read a favoured Heaney poem, or perhaps something else that they deem appropriate. I'm sure its a fairly open brief - should make for an interesting event. The tribute is scheduled for Saturday 28th March, though the poet's birthday is a little later, in April.

Interesting, or at least coincidental, to note that he was born in the same year WB Yeats. Yeats died on 28th January 1939 - Heaney was born a few months later on 13th April. No occultist conspiracy theories please!

I'd guess Heaney is in for a fair few celebrations this year to mark the beginning of his seventh decade. I believe RTE has even pushed the boat out and - gasp - commissioned a symphony!

Irish Theatre Awards : Making a Mark

Sunday night saw Ireland's luvvies flock to The Burlo for the presentation of this year's Irish Times Theatre Awards. Seems to have been a swell occasion, with a special tribute award for Lynne Parker, artistic director of Rough Magic Theatre Company.

The Best Actress award was presented to Deirbhle Crotty, for her role as Masha in the Friel version of Chekhov's Three Sisters. You can read my review of that production here. I've seen Crotty a few times now, and she's (ahem) a class act. Depending on the material, she can bring an old-school showbiz sass to bear, while mining the emotional centre of her character. And she entertains; a great, expressive dry humour to her - even in darker outposts (think Rosaleen Linehan channeling Dorothy Parker). Crotty is currently appearing in Marble at the Abbey (see below). So, git yerself along to that lovely venue and catch the award-winner herself in full effect.

Best Actor went to Tom Vaughan Lawler, for his remarkable turn in The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui, also at the Abbey. You can read my thoughts on that absolutely rivetting performance here.

Now, here's a little bit of trivia for you. You see that nice logo up there - emoting actor centre stage, elated shadow on the backdrop? Guess who designed that particular item, over twelve (if not more!) years ago? Yes, I'm happy to reveal that it was me! Not long after I'd plunged into my career as freelance graphic designer, I was briefed by (now-defunct?) marketing agency Dimension to create a 'figurative logo' for a newly planned theatre awards ceremony. It needed to be figurative so that a statuette could be developed. I did concept visuals for those too - but the final stauette design went a different way. At that time, the awards were to be sponsored by both The Irish Times and the ESB - meaning my beautifully conceived concept ended up with both those logos plonked on it - as well as a durrty great keyline box all round. Thankfully, a single sponsor now means some of the cleanliness has returned to the identity.

Having designed it on classic principles, with a long life in mind, I've enjoyed seeing the thing become a bit of an icon down the years. I hope it continues on as such - yet realise that one of these days it may well end up sacrificed, for a 'trendy' upgrade.

The illustration itself was created in brush and ink, then treated to a rigorous bout of 'moving-it-about-on-the-photocopier' - an earlier form of 'digital manipulation' - to create that pulled, distressed effect. I made oodles of these distorted copies, then cut and pasted the best bits back into a cohesive whole, scanning it into my trusty Power Mac 7500 for clean-up. Looking back now, I can see how influenced I was by the sculpture of Edward Delaney - particularly his famine piece in Stephen's Green.

The typography is a tweaked version of capitalis monumentalis letterforms, or Roman square capitals, as used for the inscription at the base of Trajan's Column from which the typeface - Trajan - takes its name.

Anyway, congratulation to all the winners - full list here - and best of luck to those who weren't successful this time. Hopefully, twelve months from now you'll be standing up there, along with my design work.

Marbelous Visions

Marble, a new play by Marina Carr, is currently having its World Premiere run at the Abbey Theatre. I went along last week to review it for the Evening Herald’s HQ magazine. You can read that review here. The themes, and the play itself, were running through my mind for quite a while after my tight deadline with the Herald. The result is a slightly more indulgent take on the play and its themes, which is now over here on Poetry Ireland's guest blog. Happy weekend all!

Whittle, Fettle, Trim, Buff ; Poetry Workshops

Thanks to Emerging Writer for pointing up a poetry workshop opportunity during the upcoming Dublin Book Festival.

'Be Inspired' is a poetry workshop for adults with Medbh McGuckian taking place at 10.30 am on Friday March 6th. 10 places are available, free of charge, to participate in a workshop with one of Ireland’s best known poets. Please submit an application to bookings@dublinbookfestival.com with a paragraph describing your background in poetry and your successes to date, along with a sample of 5 poems. Selected participants will have some of these poems workshopped at the event.

It reminded me that I forgot to flag a couple of workshop opportunities at DLR Poetry Now 09 in my earlier post, so here's the detail on those;

DLR Poetry Now workshops take place this year on Saturday 28th March. They will be facilitated by contemporary poets and teachers Colette Bryce and Frank Bidart. Both workshops are aimed at poets who are building towards a first collection. As places are limited, applicants are asked to apply by e-mailing 3 poems and a list of publications before Wednesday 10th March @ 5pm, marking clearly your preferred workshop.

To apply or for additional information please contact cbrown@dlrcoco.ie or telephone 01 271 9532

So get those emails flying!

In it for the Long Haul!

The Spring 2009 issue of The Stinging Fly is out, and it's a big un!

Decan Meade’s Editorial points out that they've bucked the trend by having their Arts Council grant increased (!) in recognition of achievements to date. So, they've stepped up and have increased their page count to include 16 more pages of the very best in new Irish writing.

I had the rare luxury of an hour to myself yesterday, between work and meeting my good friend AT - down from Drogheda for the day - for a chat and a couple of jars. Settling at the burnished counter of The Long Hall, I cracked the cover for a leisurely porter-accompanied browse.

As always, there's a great roster of talent in this issue. I particularly liked a new feature (making use of those extra pages, I guess) where some familiar names give us their thoughts '...On First Drafts.' These include the venerable Dermot Healy, Colette Bryce (shortlisted for the Irish Times Poetry Now Award 2009), Mia Gallagher (gave a great reading at the launch of Let's Be Alone Together back in September) , Nuala Ní Chonchúir (regular visitor to this parish), (distinguished and industrious) poet and translator Peter Sirr, and Philip O Ceallaigh, whose 'Notes From A Turkish Whorehouse' was one of my favourite short story collections of recent years. His second collection 'The Pleasant Light of Day' is due for release in March. Looking forward to that!

All shared their particular view of the merits, dangers, processes and even outright jettisoning of the first draft. This is good stuff – straight from the horse’s mouth (…sorry folks – but then, horses are cool beasts too!). Very interesting to those of us whose first drafts still have training wheels!

First impressions were of the usual high standard in prose and reviews, and I found myself well impressed with the poetry I browsed too. Sometimes I find this the weaker leg of the stool with the Fly. Understandable, in a way, seeing as publications such as Cyphers, The SHOp, Poetry Ireland Review and many others cater for the breadth of Irish poetry. Also, the Fly has quite a specific perspective and character, reflected in the editorial choices. I’m not saying poetry selections are in any way weak – quite the opposite. But in some previous issues, I’ve felt the verse overwhelmed a bit by the sheer zest of the short fiction. On first read, that’s not the case here – Paula Meehan’s poem dedicated to Tony Gregory, and Brian McNeil's translation of work by Knut Ødegård both came off the page on first view.

The regular First Passions feature has Joseph O’Connor writing about his relationship with The Catcher In The Rye. How he goes back to it every few years - almost as pilgrimage - only to find a new novel waiting. There’s shades of Holden Caulfield elsewhere too, in the light-fingered and internally mouthy protaganist of one of the new stories here. I think it was the story by Michéal Donnellan, but must admit my reading was a bit curtailed - the issue looked so good, I gave it to AT, for his bus trip home! Not to worry - I've ordered another and look forward to completing my peruse. You should too – order here - at seven euro this issue, in particular, seems exceptional value!

It’s all about the Fly at the mo! Scottish writer James Kelman also has a new story int his issue and will be giving a public reading TONIGHT! In IADT, Baker Corner, Room A019 at 7pm sharp. All welcome. He’s hosted by Writer in Residence with Dun Laoghaire County Council and IADT Sean O' Reilly.

Also, Orlaith O'Sullivan has just been announced the winner of the 2008 Stinging Fly Prize. Orlaith's story 'A Tall Tale' appeared in the Summer 2008 issue. I read it while on holiday in Spain and, despite glorious Iberian aridity, this evocative story I was immersed deep in the story's green, watery chill factor. You can read the judges report here and the story itself here.

Finally, The Stinging Fly also also organises the Davy Byrnes Irish Writing Award 2009. (You can see why the Arts Council were so impressed!) The competition is now closed, entries are in and the shortlist is due late May / early June. Considering the winner of the first Davy Byrnes Award back in 2004 went on to win the Booker Prize, and the runners up on that occasion included (once again) Philip O Ceallaigh, who won the 2006 Rooney Prize, and Kevin Barry, who won the Rooney Prize in 2007, this year’s list should make for (ahem) interesting reading. Phew! Now, I really must fly.

DLR Poetry Now 09

Earlier this evening, I had the pleasure of attending the launch of DLR Poetry Now 09 by poet and DLR Libraries writer-in-residence Paul Perry. This year, the event will be curated by Belinda McKeon for the second time, following a cracking festival in 2008 - high points of which included readings by CD Wright, Henri Cole, George Szirtes and Brian Turner. Seamus Heaney, a longtime friend of the festival, also read last year - this years festival will feature a special event to celebrate his 70th birthday.

This acclaimed international poetry festival runs from Thursday 26th to Sunday 29th March at the Pavilion Theatre, Dún Laoghaire and features;

Paul Batchelor
Sujata Bhatt
Frank Bidart
Colette Bryce
Paddy Bushe

Harry Clifton
Carol Ann Duffy
Ian Duhig
Adam Foulds

Ellen Hinsey
Valzhyna Mort

Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin
Robert Pinsky
Tomaž Šalamun
John Sampson

Tomas Venclova 



The Irish Times Poetry Now Award 2009 will be awarded during the festival, the recipient chosen from a shortlist of;

Colette Bryce : Self-Portrait in the Dark (Picador Poetry)
Ciaran Carson : For All We Know (Gallery Books)
Leontia Flynn : Drives (Cape Poetry)
Pearse Hutchinson : At Least For A While (Gallery Books)
Derek Mahon : Life on Earth (Gallery Books)

Judges for this year’s award are Kit Fryatt, Sean O’Brien and Joseph Woods.

Poetry Now 09 also features readings by poets shortlisted for The Rupert & Eithne Strong Award 2009, which recognises first collections published in English or Irish by Irish presses or by Irish writers in 2008, and the award announcement itself. The shortlist here consists of;

Áine Moynihan : Canals of Memory (Doghouse)
Simon Ó Faoláin : Anam Mhadra (Coiscéim)
Patrick Cotter : Perplexed Skin (Arlen House)
Ciaran Berry : The Sphere of Birds (Gallery Books

Soooooooo….. lots to look forward to in Dún Laoghaire this March!

Happy Birthday Abe

Isn't that a beaut! In keeping with my previous celebration of 200th birthdays of prominent Americans, I thought I'd note that today is the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of Abraham Lincoln. The image above is by Irish Illustrator PJ Lynch, from "Lincoln and His Boys," written by Rosemary Wells. (in bookshops now). PJ was on the Tubridy show on RTE radio 1 earlier today talking about the book and Lincoln in general. I believe its one of the first books PJ has illustrated using oils rather than his usual watercolours - looks like its all the richer for it!

Longley at the NGI : Birth, Death & Botany

Just back from a very enjoyable lunchtime reading by Michael Longley at the National Gallery. Introduced by Joe Woods of Poetry Ireland, Longley read some new poems from his upcoming collection One Hundred Doors (?), dedicated to his first grandson and another to the latest arrival, a granddaughter. Both very much welcoming the newborns to the family homestead. The second containing a spooky image of the cottage ‘folded’ - cloistered - by sheep. He also read a couple never performed before, as well as a Longley favourite of mine, ‘The Lifeboat’. In this poem, the poet wryly envisions his own death at the counter of Charlie Gaffneys bar in Mayo, having earlier received the ‘pluperfect pint’.

‘He doesn’t notice that I am dead until closing time / And he sweeps around my feet.’

The poem turns on the revelation that it is Charlie who has died, bringing poignancy to the snug descriptions of that fabled hostelry.

He finished with a slightly longer poem (four stanzas of eleven lines each), which recalled his deceased friend, the painter and botanist Raymond Piper. The verse is strewn with reminiscence from their friendship and specific encounters with native flowers, including a hilarious image of poet and painter taking turns extending their coat-tails as windbreaks – like ‘Antique Flashers’ - while attempting to photograph a rare Dropwort on a gusty coastline. Charming and deceptively well-crafted.

I’ve been to a few of these readings in the Lecture Theatre at the National Gallery now and one thing that bugs me is the sound system. Considering the purpose and status of this space, it’s weird that the PA tends towards distortion, even given the relatively restrained volume of a speaker like Longley. Not particularly a distraction today, but I’m surprised this is allowed to persist.

Doherty Does Dublin




So the Babyshambler himself turned up (whatever about on) and delighted his Dublin Liberteenies with a display of detached dissolution. Pete Doherty was in town last Friday, to visit TCD's Philosophical Society and made an appearance on the Late Late Show. Much discussion online about the resulting shenanigans (or lack thereof). Whatever about Doherty, Pat Kenny seems to have come off as wooden and misguided as ever - without the aid of any chemical handicaps whatsoever?

But there's an interesting article by Peter Murtagh in today's Irish Times which relates how his teenage son was enthralled by Doherty, to the point of digging (out) some Yeats, and even a bit of Wilde. It brought to mind those comments that Seamus Heaney made about Eminem a few years back.

Now, I share a reasonably common view that Doherty is a mediocre talent 'bigged up' by the UK celeb machine. He's obviously got charisma and ability - as well as a serious dependency problem. I just can't see him as some kind of cross between Bowie and Baudelaire for our hollow age.

Yet it seems he's capable of firing genuine enthusiasm and inspiration in his youthful admirers - hopefully encouraging literate curiousity rather than narcotic. Is this a good thing, I wonder? Or does it simply re-affirm certain (misconceptions?) and stereotypes of the poetic personality - and not just in teenagers?

EDIT: There's an edited transcript of Doherty's interview at TCD now online at the Irish Times. Not particularly inspirational or anything - but quite 'funny old rock'n'roll' in parts, whether intentional or otherwise, e.g;

"I’ve bought a book about the psychology of cats, trying to get inside their heads, but they just piss on the duvet. They don’t care."

Friday Rolls Around Again

So - its bin along time, bin along time, bin along lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.. ( baderripdum dipdum diddlydaddly diddlydaddly diddlyipdum ipdum ipdum etc. etc. ) since I last posted here. No biggy. Life is intermittent when its working right. Bush is out, Obama's in, Cowen doesn't know where he is. Wherever, I don't think we're in Offaly any more Toto. Offally deep shite, perhaps.

The creature above knows nothing about the current economic climate, climate change or climate control for that matter. Lucky sod! Happy End-of-January to All. Spring's-a-comin'!

It's a Sunny Dublin Saturday!



So, did anybody manage to nab any art for themselves yesterday - seeing as it was Free Art Friday? I didn't find any myself - but I believe there was plenty about town. I didn't contribute, I'm afraid - next year, perhaps.

If you didn't manage to pick up an original Sean Hillen or Will St. Leger, no worries - you can always pop into the National Gallery to see the Turner watercolours. Or just enjoy another of my paintings, entitled, Bolg, above. It's not a haggis.

A Beautiful sunny (but cold) day in Dublin City today. I'm off down the country shortly - a flying visit to the southeast. Speaking of which, fellow Scalder Peter Murphy has a new book out. John the Revelator has already garnered enthusiastic praise from the likes of Colm Toibin ad Roddy Doyle, no less! He's interviewed in the Irish Times today.

For those staying in the City - there's a couple of attractive propositions once the sun has gone down;

The Shoestring Collective has their first event of 2009 tonight. As usual, the line-up is eclectic, feauring songs, comedy, piping and reading from Jinx Lennon, Enda Muldoon, Éanna Ó Muire and Colm Liddy respectively - and more! Details Here.

Also, tonight is your last chance to catch Classic Stage Ireland's production of Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale at the Project Arts Centre. Its a treat of a production - lots of energy and commitment from a predominently young cast, peppered with a few more mature contributions. Well worth a look. My review can be read here and - if you don't trust my perspective - Gerry Colgan reviews it for the Irish Times here.

Politics, Pageantry, Poetry, Poe

What a week, eh? Pageantry and Politics can be dangerous bedfellows, but Obama’s inauguration, spin or no, has been a shot in the arm for so many. Here’s to Hope (and industry)! In all the fuss, however, the celebration of another remarkable American, and notable occasion in US history, was a little overlooked.

Firstly, some context. As a child, I read anything I could get my hands on. I guess this trait came from my father, who once said he would “...read anything from Playboy to the Bible” - although I never remember seeing either in his hands (or our home for that matter). Luckily, our family regularly frequented jumble sales, auctions, church fairs, junk shops, etc. along with more usual outlets, so we accrued a wide and random selection of reading material. A particular treat were those rolled bundles of used comics - usually sold for something like 10 for 10p.

I worked my way through Brer Rabbit and company, lots of Enid Blyton, Biggles, Just William, The Bobbsey Twins, Hardy Boys, even the occasional Nancy Drew. My imagination was fired by Robin Hood, The Swiss Family Robinson, Robinson Crusoe, The Arabian Nights (abridged versions, I’m guessing). I really loved reading stories and as I got older everything was fair game, even schoolbooks now and then. 

One of the first 'grown-up' books I remember making a distinct impression was a paperback collection of short stories – titled, I think, Tales of Mystery and Terror. I was gripped! The Cask of Amontillado, The Telltale Heart, The Black Cat, The Pit and The Pendulum – brilliant, gruesome stuff. The Masque of The Red Death was a particular favourite.

Last Monday, January 19th, marked the 200th Anniversary of the birth of Edgar Allen Poe, the author of those stories. His first publication was Tamerlane and other poems. Only fifty copies of this short collection of poems were printed, of which only 12 (not bad, considering!) are believed to still exist. He was in many ways ahead of his time, writing criticism, prose and poetry with clarity and focus. Tragically, not long after the success of his classic poem 'The Raven', he suffered an ignominious death. He was further unfortunate in having as literary executor one Rufus Griswold who harboured some personal grievances, and aimed to destroy his reputation in a thoroughly calculated way. Despite that, of course, his work is widely read and his influence remains strong today.

I first read those stories over 30 years ago, sitting on the ground by a bookshelf in Wexford. Though short, they felt utterly complete and had character and personality in a way I hadn’t previously experienced. They were freestanding. Involving. Chilling. Reading them, I understood clearly that it was possible for one person to write short, unique stories and see them appear in print. Perhaps I could do this too? This spark of realisation took a long time to catch flame. Intervening circumstances presented their own necessities, requirements and, yes, distractions. Preconceptions remained stubborn. For many years, the idea of becoming a writer was a foreign concept, accessed beyond any route I was aware of. Writers were writers - I was something else.

Nowadays I write regularly. To mixed effect, it's true - I'm no Poe. But that's the point. Hopefully I've shed many pre-conceived definitions or expectations that may have been obstacles and now I aim to write for the reward of the writing itself. So, today I'd like to thank Edgar Allen Poe and all those other writers who, in doing likewise, have inspired and enriched my life and world, even in the face of it's unremittant terrors - personal, domestic or foreign. And to Mister Poe, offer a (belated) Happy Birthday!

A Poem for Obama

(written back on Nov 5th, 2008)


November Spring


One turns, then another
And another, leaving
Swathes of country hung
With canopies of red

Until capillaries deplete
Becoming paper-brittle
Dropping palmates increment
A tinderbox of hope

Blazing clear a plate blue sky

Today, under tributed precision of limbs
Beneath hard-coppiced charnel woods
Uncoils green light of Spring

© PJ Nolan 2008

Out of Hibernation - Blinking into Zero Nine.





New Year well under way, with sheer human folly and grimness in the ascendant, I'm just about ready to stand up straight now. Having taken my sweet time uncurling from midwinter stupor, last week saw me back in the workplace, shaking my head every now and then to spark synaptic embers. Didn't work much. It's only this weekend that any semblance of regular service is resuming.

The holidays were a peculiar mix of slobbing and stressing this year. All the usual elements mincemeating themselves together; family, food, booze, sleep. And, of course, the demon flipside of self-indulgence - introspection! I'm all in favour of New Year, birthdays, anniversaries etc., as opportunistic points of reflection. While I'm not so good on the forward-looking 'resolution' end of things, I do find value in the the 'altitude' that these occasions provide. A chance for some perspective on those woods passed through while trying not to crash into too many trees along the way. Many questions.

On my writing, for example. Where's it going? Is it going? What's the cost of keeping it going? I'm a little burned out, I guess. Not so much blocked [btw, interesting article by Anne Enright over on the Guardian on this subject] - as choc-a-blocked! Too much going on. Rather, too much bubbling manically under the surface to be getting on with. Not so much burned out then, more like spread a bit thin. Or perhaps the opposite? Logjammed? Gridlocked? Strung out? I'm a frayed knot. Time is always tight. Money even tighter!

I write; poems, short fiction, reviews, this blog. I paint too (that's one of mine above) and I also take photographs, make illustrations and do a bit of songwriting, when I get a chance. I run my own business, try to ignore our dilapidated decor, have young family (older family too) and I'm involved in a couple of organisations. I've had a measure of success in all these areas, as well as some painful disappointments. Now, at a stage where energy levels aren't quite as resilient as a decade ago, I sometimes wonder if I'm slipping into jack-of-all-trades territory.

Difficult to know, then, if a fresh dose of self-discipline and efficiency might allow me to maintain further progress in all these areas - or simply result in a coronary. Do I need to consider trimming some elements from the mix? Difficult, especially when there's as many others I would still like to get around to! None of which would impress my bank manager.

Oh well - if one must ponder these things, then the dim light of January is probably a suitable time to do so. Other than that, my ongoing resolution must remain - as always - 'Do More Good Stuff. Better!" Maybe that's the problem right there?

Writing-wise, so far 2009 has brought rejections, from Contrary and The SHOp - but also publication in Orbis 145 (thanks Carole) and over on Nthpostion (thanks Todd), both of which I'm very well chuffed about.

So, onwards! Here's wishing a peaceful, progressive and productive 2009 to all who pass through these parts. Stay busy. I guess?

Ho Ho Show

Meh-rry Crassmush! That's not me in the photo, but it sort of catches my mood of the moment. It's actually actor Patrick O'Donnell, demonstrating elvish ennui in The Santaland Diaries, based on David Sedaris' essay of the same name - playing every lunchtime at Bewley's Cafe Theatre until December 20th. If, like me, you find yourself underwhelmed by the meteorological, socioeconomic and psychological chills of this year's particularly fraught festive season, then Get Thee To A Clattery on Grafton Street for an hour of soup, sass and cynicism at all things sacharine. (i.e., it's a good laugh in a grim climate! My review is here. Gesundheit!

Musings (ngroooannn) to my Ears

Laid up with a feckin' annoying sinus infection (and my trusty laptop) I was struck by the vast amount of resources for poets and other writers out there in deepest cyberspace. The growth of personal blogging alone has opened possibilities for research, networking, debate and promotion that would have been unimaginable to previous generations. As you know, if you're kind enough to be reading this.

YouTube, and internet video in general is coming of age, of course. But there's a wonderful virtual library of audio out there too - much of which is writing-related. The fact that most radio shows are now archived online makes it possible to catch programmes that clash with other activities, but there's lots of other sources of online audio too. Listening at the computer is one option, but I find these podcasts ideal for downloading to listen to on commutes and other journeys. Here's a few of my own regular haunts.

I've previously mentioned the exceptional archive of interviews at Don Swaim's Wired for Books. Mostly dating from the 80s and 90s, you can listen to Ray Carver, Tobias Wolff, Atwood, Asimov - allsorts, in fact! Other recent additions include readings of Whitman's poems, Thomas Lynch, Macbeth and other Shakespeare plays and, topically, A Christmas Carol, as well as a growing section of children's writing.

The Guardian Book Club is another good source of interviews with writers - one highlight is an interview with Jeanette Winterson from 2007. You can subscribe to this series via iTunes.

Another treasure chest is the Lannan Foundation podcast series. You can subscribe to these via iTunes too, but there seems to be something astray in the cataloguing there - browse their homepage instead. A pretty strong Irish flavour in this series; John McGahern, Eavan Boland and Eamon Grennan all feature - the latter interviewed by Denis O'Driscoll, who also interviews Seamus Heaney. A tempting taster in advance of reading Stepping Stones, perhaps. Unfortunately, some of these files suffer from digital artefacting due to audio compression. But there's plenty of gems in there - well worth a rummage.

Poetry, the US magazine, has a whole range of podcast material, including a 'poem of the day' and an inside look at each issue of Poetry magazine, hosted by the editors. Good Stuff.

There's also the Association of Poetry Podcasting - a veritable jumble sale of links to a wide range of podcasts from many, many sources. You'll have to do your own rummaging here, as I've barely broken the surface.

Check out iTunes for many, many, many more, including RTE's own Sunday Miscellany, The Penguin Podcast, and The New York Times Book Review. Lots of miscellaneous quirky stuff there too!

So, plenty of food for.... eh, your ears, I guess. Enjoy.

Resistable (Tour de) Force

Gawd - sorry about that dingy headline - couldn't resist. :->

Went along to review The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui at the Abbey Theatre for the Evening Herald last week. Review is online now over here. Its a great production, directed by Jimmy Fay and well worth a look. Curious how many of the issues that seep through the play bear relevance in today's troubled times. Of course its only our own recent insecurities that bring the focus of the developed world to bear on nastier aspects of economic politics. Outside of our whitebread enclave, the fallout from economic monsterism is a daily burden. The old 'virus-in-shoes' effect at play again. Anyway, get thee to the Abbey for some brainfood and you'll be treated to a virtuoso performance by Tom Vaughan Lawlor in the title role - shading Hitler, Mussolini, Richard III, Chaplin, Marx (Groucho, not Karl) into a remarkable, athletic meld. Sounds funny - and it is - in part. But things can dark very, very quickly.

I've seen TVL once before, playing Solyony in Brian Friels's version of Three Sisters, also at the Abbey. His performance then, as the histrionic army officer guest, was also a tumbling, skidding physical treat. There's a short interview with the actor over on Trinity News about his career to date and the challenge of playing Arturo Ui.

Never rains but it... ..poets (and novelists)

There's no shortage of reading events these days. Next Tuesday, November 18th, sees an unfortunate clash of three very interesting readings in the Dublin area.

Poetry Ireland presents a reading by Caitríona O'Reilly and Robin Robertson at the Unitarian Church, 112 St Stephen's Green West, D2 at 6.30pm. I've seen O'Reilly read on a number of occasions and like the taut, gothic tinge of her collections The Nowhere Birds and The Sea Cabinet a lot. Robertson is a fine Scottish poet and a good reader of his work, so I'll be sorry to miss this one.

The Hour Glass Readings present John Boyne, writer of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, at the Irish Writers' Centre, 19 Parnell Square, Dublin 1 at 7pm (Admission: 7 euro). I've never hear Boyne read, but he's a very interesting storyteller whose star is very much in the ascendant at the mo. A good one for aspiring novelists, I'd guess.

Finally, Dun Laoghaire Rathdown presents a public reading by their two writers in residence, Sean O'Reilly (IADT) and Paul Perry (libraries). That's the one I hope to attend. Admission is free, all welcome. Venue is The Purty Loft, Dun Laoghaire at 8 pm. Sean O'Reilly comes highly praised as a skilful stylist who believes in testing language, pushing it in unfamiliar directions. His book Watermark, was (I think) the first title from the Stinging Fly Press, a vote of confidence from a quality publisher.

Perry is predominently a poet, although formerly a recipient of the Hennessy New Irish Writer of the Year Award for his short story The Judge. According to his blog, the readers will be introduced on the night by poet Katie Donovan who will also launch an anthology called 'Fishing for Change', featuring new writing from students at IADT. Some of my colleagues from the Deansgrange Writers group will be in attendance too, so it should be a fun evening all round!

The IGI blog, Scamp, celebrated the remarkable events in the US by asking for scamps responding to Obama's victory - and there's some great stuff to be seen. I was more than happy to contribute to this one with my piece above. The quote is from Lincoln's Gettysburg address. Here's to Hope!

"...dedicated here to the unfinished work..."



image: scalder


Wow! What a week. As Jonathan Raban said in The Guardian, on Saturday;

“What America has succeeded in doing, against all the odds, and why we cried when it happened, is to elect the most intelligent, canny and imaginative candidate to the presidential office in modern times - someone who'll bring to the White House an extraordinary clarity of thought and temperate judgment.”

Poet Desmond Swords caught some of my own optimism about Obama the individual, in his blog comment about his exceptional communication abilities;

"... which (I think) appears to be the forthright human honesty of a seemingly normal person who has plucked the day by harnessing new medias and making them the vehicle for a message of hope and change by inclusion."

George Szirtes, initially welcomed Obama's victory as predominently symbolic - a cautionary stance we must accept, given the vast intricacies of US and geopolitical systems;

"Consider me symbolically delighted, over the proverbial moon. It is, as the moon-lander said, a pretty terrific leap for man. Therefore I rejoice. Party time. Work later.

Forgive me. I have never trusted elation, not in the long run. Wind blows one way: I tend to lean the other. Can't help it. Just instinct."

As for myself, I was quite overwhelmed - symbolism or no. In recent days I've been surprised to shed some of my cynicism - for the better - and find myself embracing possibilities of new measures of hope and change in my own life. And that's the most surprising and inspirational aspect of recent events. Would that there were some way of allowing the bitterest of hearts to allow room for one small change, or room for new hope in themselves. Perhaps then, growing hope could build new engines of change for all of us. If nothing else, Obama represents a remarkable example of the power of poetry in our lives, for without poetry, where might we find those abstract aspirations that allow change become manifest in our lives?

And yet, the same weekend newspaper that showed one family of four on the way to the White House, carried pictures of another family of four mown down, bodies touching, in their home in Kiwanja. So many steps, in so many journeys yet to be travelled. One. Step. At. A. Time.

image: Shepard Fairey

image: Shepard Fairey

if it's Tuesday, this must be the Internet?


Harsh Expletive! It’s been a Hell of a few weeks. Good Hell mostly, I guess. But some suspicously tart, gritty bits that may have been Bad Hell mixed in there too. Hence lack of posts. Hello. Good to be back!
 
Highlight of my absence was a trip to London with herself and the eldest offspring. Taking in Rothko, Meireles (soooo good!), Frieze Art Fair, Bacon and the Turner Prize exhibits was an uncommon treat, as we spend most of our days rooted (routed?) to the various local grooves of work, school, family in this here parish of the auld sod. No Celtic Tiger pondhoppers we. Bizarrely, we’ve travelled more since the poor creature started sneezing and looking decidedly dizzy than at any time while the nation soared on the hot air of its carnivore breath. Good! I like a slice of contrary every now and then. Here’s a toast to all the financial guano that’s been sprayed fanwards over the last while – may it nourish the roots of a whole new perspective. As if! But we can live in hope, can’t we? Yes we can.
 
A few things then, just to catch up;
 
Boyne Berries 4 was launched in Trim, Co Meath recently. A fine selection of work includes one of my own poems, Evening Recital. Personal favourites include Accident, by Mary Rose Callan,  Bayardelle, Scent of the Faculty, by Landa Wo, and Good Friday Planting by Shirley McClure (which you can read here).
 
Brian Friel's version of Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler, continues its run at The Gate. Check out my review (of sorts) over at the Evening Herald’s HQ magazine.
 
Also, the second annual Poem-a-Day challenge is in full swing over on the forum at Poetry Ireland’s website throughout November. Why not pop over and join the outpouring of poesy? Last year, the challenge of writing and posting a poem every 24 hours did wonders for beating the crap out of my inner censor/slash/editor, who has since moved to Alaska in search of a new client, who needs the ermmm....restraint..
 
Finally, it’s wintertime (or daylight savings time, depending where you’re reading this). That came quickly!  So here’s a poem to mark the glooming;
 

Equilibrium
 
Grey days are here again
I dress in the half-light
Discovering at lunch
That I’m wearing odd socks
 
Still, the day’s half gone
And no harm done
I’ll relish each further step
Secretly out of kilter

© PJ Nolan 2008

Happy Halloween!!!

Soooo - there's no way tonight will be any scarier than the last few weeks. (If you're a certain Big Ignorant F*cker From Offaly, anyway). So let's rack it up - embrace the fear and screw it anyway! Drag that moth-eaten celtic tigerskin out from under the stairs and fling it on top of the bonfire - smack it, hack it - armagnac it! Feck the doom, just neck the shrooms - and maybe when we all wake up, the hangover will be better than the current reality. After all, its nearly Nov 4th! Maybe we're about to see the first glimmer of some kind of hope for a lonnnnnnnnnng time. If you squint, you just might might make it out, just maybe, just possibly......can you see it? Can you? Yes, yes we can.

Synth Eastwood : Cycles

Synth Eastwood are currently gearing up for their next show, on the theme 'cycles'. Nice open theme, which should make for an interesting mix of perspectives - looking forward to seeing it all on Friday 24th October at a few venues in Temple Bar, Dublin ; Filmbase, The Button Factory & Meeting House Square. Here's a sneakpeek at my submission (here's hoping it makes the cut).

This guy is The Right Honorable Lord Gustaf Lesley 'Les' Augtrom 1799 - 1864. Leading ethnopharmacologist of his time and last recorded Cyclops of the modern era. Members of the Swedish royal family are believed to carry his monocular gene to this day. Or something.

NEW WEBSITE!!!

Wayhay! I've finally got round to sorting out my website. I've kept it simple, but with plenty of new work to look at and I've also taken a solemn vow over the body of a dismembered lego star wars character (not saying which one) to keep it updated more regularly from now on. Why not pop over for a look around - unless of course you've actually come to this blog directly from the site - in which case ....Hi! :-)

Writing for Children Event

I was at the United Arts Club last night for Irish Pen's Writing for Children event - a panel discussion featuring Mags Doyle from Childrens Books Ireland, Helen Carr, Editor at O'Brien Press and Oisin McGann, author and illustrator. Irish Pen's own Sarah Webb was the moderator, and the event concluded with Q&A from the audience.

It was a very interesting and informative evening. While there was the familiar territory of classic dos and don'ts re manuscript submission, all panellists contributed further points of interest. McGann's overview of lessons learnt as he moved from novice to successful author were a highlight. A very pleasant guy, I had a nice chat with him in the bar afterwards. Among the audience of aspiring and published writers were Poetry Ireland's Dave Maybury and a few members of the Illustrators Guild of Ireland. Good company led to pints - so this post is being written with slightly fuzzy recall.

Luckily, Sarah has a bit more detail about the event over on her blog, here - phew!

O Brothers!

As mentioned previously - I went along to review theatre O's production of Enda Walsh's Delerium at the Peacock Theatre last week, for those nice people at the Evening Herald HQ magazine. The review is now online and can be read here. The play runs until October 25th and I thought it was great craic! So do get along if you have a chance.

Also, if you fancy adding your voice to the critical mass, Irish Theatre magazine are running a Critic's Forum tomorrow (Oct 10th) at Project Arts Centre. A panel of critics, moderated by poet, playwright and presenter of RTE's Arts Show Vincent Woods, will be discussing some of the major productions from this year's Dublin Theatre Festival. Contributions from the floor will be welcome too. Kick-off is 4pm.

Byrne and Eno : Its-a Happening (again)

.


Well whadyaknow - those erstwhile mavericks of the New Wave are now quite middle-aged. Hasn't stopped them getting back together to do the collaboration hustle. Good thing? Bad thing? Thing Thing!

I've quite a soft spot for their 1981 album 'My Life in the Bush of Ghosts'. Along wih whale sounds, The Cramps and The Goon Show, it brings me back to the hazy basement rooms of my studenthood. A hugely influential album, this new one (with its Miranda July-ish title) isn't really along those lines, but these two particularly crispy heads are always going to bring some sonic sparks to the equation - so check it, Brethren (Sisters too!) There's a free download of the warmly funky track Strange Overtones waiting for you!

Black Watch - Scotland, the rave

Well, the Heavily Sponsored Dublin Theatre Festival is in full swing. We went along to the RDS last night for National Theatre of Scotland’s Black Watch. This is a heavily hyped production, widely acclaimed since first performed at the Edinburgh Fringe back in 2006. We were lucky - it seems the previous night’s performance was cancelled due to structural concerns about the specially erected banked seating. Didn’t know that until today.

The play draws directly on the experiences of soldiers from the Black Watch regiment tours in Iraq, specifically their controversial redeployment to more dangerous combat zones, in order to relieve US troops. Further themes are the war’s questionable legitimacy and the amalgamation of the Black Watch with five other Scottish regiments, in the context of the regimental history (referred to as The Golden Thread).

There’s no doubt this is a highly impressive production, with critical accolades a-plenty. Performances are consistently strong and there are a number of highly inventive set pieces in the staging, incorporating a pool table, projections, strobe lighting, bagpipes, TV screens, military drill and exceptional choreography. The blurb claims universal critical praise, but I overheard a few doubters as the audience filed out. I may have been one myself.

There seems to be a lack of clarity in the aims of the piece. Are we getting the soldiers story? If so, why is so much obscured? We see the squaddies serving together, chilling out in the pub, interviewed by a writer - yet they remain two dimensional. OK, we have the sarge, the cheeky one, the ladies man, the toffee-nosed officer, the new boys – all sound familiar? Obviously these tropes don’t arrive out of thin air – but they’re not particularly unique to the Black Watch either. I remember similar character sketches in Spike Milligan’s war memoirs. At no point do we get a sincere sense of any personality bar the cliché.

Now, I know this is drama and concessions must be made – but I left feeling that the ‘BigBangBoom’ factor, while providing a raucous evening’s entertainment, actually served to obscure what truths might be mined here. A bit like Riverdance being presented as an insight to Irish sectarianism? Ok, maybe that’s a bit harsh. But there was a definite emphasis on spectacle, and I felt the pacing at times seemed more suited to TV than theatre. This, coupled with martial piping and some superfluous drilling near the end, seemed to drag into mawkishness. The dangerous glamour of fatigues and guns is embraced, so that the military tattoo references seemed overplayed – tilting the balance towards gung ho, and away from the human aspects of the story.

On the plus side, there’s excellent exposition of the regimental history, in one of those inspired set pieces, involving the evolution of the distinctive uniform. There are few punches pulled where the legality of the invasion is concerned. There’s excellent use of symbolic language throughout; ‘bullying’, ‘porn’ and ‘petrol’ recur. I also learned what ‘toby-tag’ is (although I’m not sure I really needed to).

Anyway, bang-for-buck-wise, I shouldn’t be complaining. One hour and fifty minutes, (without an interval) passed with little discomfort or boredom. The audience mostly loved it and who says good art needs to hit all the buttons anyway?

Funnily enough, I found myself thinking of Tropic Thunder and wondering which of these two productions was the more disturbing. Ben Stiller’s movie – glibly playing war for laughs (and hilarious in parts) had me seething at times for a society in the grip of ‘the biggest Western Foreign policy mistake ever’ (to quote one of the Black Watch characters) packing out cineplexes for their explosive fix. Here, where the wounds are exposed with more intentional gravitas, I wondered why I wasn’t more moved.

(BTW we also went to Delerium, Enda Walsh's collaboration with theatre O at the Peacock, the previous night. The Evening Herald has first dibs on that review - I'll link to it when it's published. Suffice to say it's well worth a look!)

Guild, Guide, Gateway and... Graduate?

Nice article by Fiona McCann in today's Irish Times marking the 30th Anniversary of Poetry Ireland. It's a good overview of a great organisation, and raises again the embarrassing and illogical oversight that sees the representative organisation for the most internationally recognised Irish artform still without a dedicated building to call home! Anybody who's visited their cramped office, just off Stephen's Green, knows full well the limitations of the (lack of) space and is given cause to reflect on just how much is achieved from such a humble hub. I particularly like Denis O'Driscoll's description of the organisation as "a guild, a guide and a gateway". Indeed it is.

To mark the anniversary, Poetry Ireland has announced the inaugural All-Ireland Poetry Day - tomorrow Thurs Oct 2nd - and is supporting readings in all 32 counties. The Dublin reading takes place in that reliable venue, the Unitarian Church.

However, I'll be attending a suburban satellite event; Deansgrange Writers Group and Dalkey Writers Group are coming together to mark the day with a reading upstairs in the Graduate Pub (beside Killiney Shopping Centre) on Rochestown Ave, from 7-11pm. There's no intention to detract from PI's activities, we just thought it might be nice to do something out Dun Laoghaire direction. Trekking into town all the time can be demanding on the Burrough dwellers.

I'll be among those reading, and there'll be an open mic (well, I don't know that we'll need, or have, an actual mic - should be pretty intimate and informal). If you're interested in reading, get there early and make yourself known on arrival. Or just drop in for a drink and support your local poets!

Happy Anniversary Poetry Ireland!