Judging a Remembrance Poetry Competition

My task for today (well, for this week, but I must make an immediate start) is to judge a local poetry competition linked to the centenary of the end of the First World War.

I knew from a fairly early age that the relatives of close family friends and indeed members of my own family had served in the conflict, but somehow the days around Remembrance Sunday were strange ones for my teenage self. They were evidently days that made people I knew well 'feel' something that I sensed was still beyond my grasp and strangely beyond my reach.

I studied the Peloponnesian and Persian wars at university in a detached historical way. I took courses on Homeric warfare in which we tried to link archaeological artefacts with passages in the text, thereby building up a rounded picture of the ancient world from the range of primary sources available. I loved the challenges presented by this approach, but war itself remained an enigma. Perhaps war is always an enigma.

Some years later I had the chance to study work by the war poets; and seeing, well, almost experiencing, conflict and service through their eyes lifted a veil from my own. The poems that spoke most directly to me about the aspiration for peace (something I felt deeply) and the reality of 20th century hostilities (something I almost wished to avoid) were those that tackled the subject from a slightly oblique angle. 'The Owl' by Edward Thomas would be a case in point.

I have returned to that poem many times. In four brief quatrains, the speaker presents a world of war that is vividly evoked but barely described. As I have mentioned above, I live with aspirations of peace, but at a moment when I was finally receptive to the exploration of modern notions of conflict (with the aim of increasing my understanding), it only took a handful of well-chosen words to extend my appreciation of human loyalty and sacrifice in the face of battle. The poet's employment of a double entendre, or play, on the word 'barred' is, to my way of thinking, a stroke of genius - and ironically it was one of the words in this poem that became a personal key, unlocking empathy and gratitude for those caught up directly or indirectly in the atrocities of the First World War.

The Writing Life: Save our (Newcastle) Libraries

The View over the Tyne from Newcastle (to The Sage)

Do take a moment to read about the projected cuts in Newcastle upon Tyne, that vibrant city where I was initially a university student, and then later on a resident, attending weekly Creative Writing classes for adults under the auspices (a) of the The People's Centre in North Shields and (b) the WEA (under the tutelage of Margaret Wilkinson).

There are pleas from authors in the Newcastle Chronicle: they feel it would be a tragic move to close so many library resources across the city.

As a student I was a frequent visitor to the Newcastle University Library. I remember many a happy morning in the old City Library during the time I attended the Creative Writing classes. I still recall looking up facts about the eating habits of raccoons - and about Cortes, cocoa and the New World.

David Gill outside Newcastle University

A group of writers in Newcastle have set up a WordPress site to show the support of 'Writers for Libraries', through poetry and prose contributions. Poetry Scotland editor, Sally Evans, has written vividly about the Newcastle University library 'Stacks': I remember these so well. Her prose piece, 'Her faith in Libraries', can be found here.

You will find my contribution here. It is a poem called 'Ode to Our Treasure Keepers'. 

West Jesmond from the Metro

Newcastle's elegant Northumberland Street

The Tyne Bridge by day

Poetic People (30): Sir Andrew Motion's Line, Part ii

'Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.'
Anton Chekhov

My thanks, thus far, to Mand (of the Travel Hopefully blog) and to Aidan Baker (Librarian at the Haddon Library, Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Cambridge) and for their comments on my previous post (here) on the subject of Sir Andrew Motion's views on the teaching of Creative Writing in universities.

Thank you, too, to those who have voted in my poll.

Aidan Baker refers us on to another article, this time by Louis Menand in the New Yorker (June 2009). The link to this article is here.

If you have not voted in my poll yet (top right of my blog), you might like to read Menand's piece first - but please remember to vote!

• The University of Iowa's Writers' Workshop

Postscript: On the subject of 'new writing' (well, what was once a new way of presenting writing, in this case), do read the marvellous quotation in paragraph 3 (beginning 'an essentially superficial process...') in Professor Henry Farrell's review in the current edition of the THES of A Better Pencil: Readers, Writers, and the Digital Revolution by Dennis Baron (OUP, £13.99, ISBN 9780195388442). Henry Farrell is associate professor of political science and international affairs, George Washington University.

Poetic People (29): Sir Andrew Motion's Line, Part i

'Clash over degree courses that try to teach budding authors the write stuff'.

This was the heading in The Times (16 January) linked to a column by the education correspondent, Nicola Woolcock, in the run-up to the announcement of the TS Eliot Prize. The link is here, although the online version has a less controversial heading!

• 12 out of the 17 on the shortlist of those with the Masters Degree in Creative Writing were women.
  
• 7 (of these?) attended UEA.
• 5 of the 17 (men and women) have been contenders in the Costa First Novel Award since 2005.

Sir Andrew Motion made the valid point that nobody makes a fuss when musicians and actors receive training. He does not agree with those who feel that (creative) writing is not a suitable subject for universities to teach.

'The idea has taken root that writing can be taught as well or badly as acting, painting and dancing,' he concluded.

Do you agree? PLEASE CAST YOUR VOTE IN MY POLL (top right). It will run for a week.

Poetic People (12): Wendy Cope

I stumbled across the Guardian feature on Wendy Cope's 'pieces of me'. I heard Cope read at Hay in 2008, so it was interesting to see the items she selected for the feature.

We have occasionally compared blog notes about our favourite pens, pencils and keyboards. I thought (having seen Cope's colourful notebook) that it would be interesting to know what 'poetic' notebooks you favour.

I like to have a small one that can be carried around easily. This notebook has a robust plastic cover, an elastic fastener and a biro attached to it via a piece of string. This doubles up as my diary when I am away from home.

I have a spiral-bound hardback commonplace book for quotations, cuttings, photos etc. I often wonder whether I should keep all my writing notes in identical notebooks. Perhaps that it the archivist in me. However, I love variety and particularly enjoy receiving colourful notebooks as gifts. I occasionally choose my own, too.

When I am out and about and not wanting to carry very much, I use a dictaphone or a few sheets of a notepad stapled together. Do tell me about your favourite 'writer's notebook'.