A Sweet Unrest

Blue Peninsula

Blue Peninsula by Madge McKeithen was, in part, the inspiration for the Life/Lines project I wrote about earlier (here and here). The book is about how McKeithen finds some solace in poetry when her son is stricken with a debilitating (both mentally and physically) illness which has no diagnosis. I was looking forward to reading it since I was so taken with the Life/Lines idea, but I ended up not liking the book itself quite as much as I expected to. I think this is mostly a matter of personal preference: I'm not usually one for memoirs, and it is much more a memoir than a poetry book. And I probably would have responded better to a simpler writing style.

But there is a lot of good in the book, first and foremost the poems themselves. McKeithen has given me several poets to explore further. She also makes some noteworthy observations about the place of grief in modern society. And I think it's nice to hear about someone finding what they need in poetry, or in any art form really. I mean, I get that.

Here's one of the poems that stood out for me from Blue Peninsula:

On Turning Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.

Billy Collins

Contrast Podcast

I heard about the Contrast Podcast a couple weeks ago (thanks again, VV) and was immediately smitten. In a nutshell, every week a theme is designated and then people- anyone- can send in a related song. It's a great way to hear a wide variety of music. But the best part is that each participant records a little intro to the song he or she picked. These intros range from simple to heartfelt to hilarious and they are wonderful- like listening to a great college radio station where all the songs are handpicked by a real person who wants to tell you why.

I was so excited I dove right in and made a contribution to this week's podcast. I definitely need to work on my technique (to be honest, I was just relieved that I could figure out how to record myself on my computer) but I was really happy to be part of it.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Well, National Poetry Month is over and attention has turned to other celebrations (National Preservation Month, National High Blood Pressure Month...). But this space is devoted to poetry 12 months a year. At least it is when we aren't swooning over our favorite troubadours. So even though the cameras may have gone elsewhere, here at A Sweet Unrest World Headquarters I've slipped into a new party dress, opened another bottle of Champagne and kept right on celebrating poetry.

This weekend I read Simon Armitage's translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. This is exactly the kind of book I would have avoided in the past, under the assumption that I wouldn't get it. And I'll admit that when I cracked it open, ignoring the introduction and rushing headlong onto the first page of the poem, I thought my old assumptions were right. I was halfway down the first page thinking, 'if this is the translation, what the hell does the original look like??' when I realized that it's a parallel text and the original is on the left side of the page and the translation is on the right. Embarrassing but all too true. Once I got that sorted though, it was smooth sailing. The translation is very accessible- you don't need any notes or background at all to figure out what's going on. And Armitage kept to the highly alliterative style of the original, which makes the words and lines themselves pure pleasure to read. The poem is entertaining and suspenseful and just a really good tale. It's one I'll return to.

I'd never heard of Simon Armitage before reading about this book, but now that he's on my radar I see his name everywhere- he's over here breaking down the genius that is The Smiths' This Charming Man, he's over there turning The Odyssey into a radio play for BBC and then publishing his version in book form. I will definitely follow him as he is also interested in both poetry and pop music. I'm not the only one! I look forward to reading his version of The Odyssey as well as some of his own poetry.

In the meantime, this was the first Arthurian tale I'd ever read (so many humiliating disclosures in one post) and I'd like to read more. Any recommendations for me?

Fergus O'Farrell & Interference

Like everyone I know, I was charmed by the movie Once. My favorite scene was the glowing candlelit dinner where the guests sing after the meal. The last song in that scene, Gold, enchanted me completely, and that's how I found Fergus O'Farrell and Interference.

Each Interference song I've heard is infused with that same magic. I'm not the best person to describe music but I'll venture a tentative 'layered' and 'lush', and a vague but heartfelt 'beautiful' and provide you with lots of links at the end so you can hear it yourself. I do feel pretty confident in saying Fergus O'Farrell has a masterful, evocative voice that can put the listener in whatever spirit or state of mind he wants it to. And the lyrics could stand alone- each song tells a tale, often with imagery that gives pause and stays around long after the song is over. I love Prayer Before A Voyage and the opening lines:

Be my weather
Blow through my like the wind
Wind in invisible shapes about my ribs

And also this line from the wrenching Nowhere, depicting 'the twisted hands weaving Bridget's wreaths.' I could go on and on but I might loose you before I get to the one I most want to mention, I Am Your Man. I first heard this song right around the time I first read the poem The Voice of Robert Desnos, and I like the same thing in them, the visionary narrator grown so powerful by his love that he feels godlike. But I like the song's narrator better. All-encompassing and possessive, he controls the universe and he is everything in it. Here are the lyrics:

I Am Your Man

I'll be your father or your knight of love divine.
I'll be your punishment and I will strip you in the cold moonshine.
I'll be your memory and quitely slip away.
I'll present you with all religion and give you a ring every day.

Cause I am your man.

I'll be unworthy when I lick between your lips.
A slave to show you cowardice, a bold pirate and captain of ships.
I'll be a crucifix when I nail myself to your skin.
I will beg forgiveness from God and gently cleanse your sins.

Cause I am your man,
(Your darling, sweet heart, dear.)

I'll be Lord Byron if you want to be naked and free.
I'll be Lord Jesus if you're caught in a storm at sea.
I will bring you peace to rid your soul of fear.
I will bring you release if you are lost in a veil of tears.

Cause I am your man.

I will ask for nothing...
But a promise for eternity.
And a vow to grant me your body.
And a charge to rule your destiny.

That's all...

I can't even read the words without short-circuiting. But when I listen to the performance, the voice is in complete control- so commanding and sure that it calms even as it combusts and consumes. Where's my white flag?

You can watch a captivating Interference performance here. You can stream and/or purchase both albums here. A lively, endearing Fergus O'Farrell talks about creativity and his working methods here. This clip would be worth watching even if he weren't totally gorgeous with the pretty blue eyes, handsome face and knee-weakening accent. Honestly. By about the 4th time through I could actually focus on what he says and it's illuminating and funny too.

Interference are playing Radio City Music Hall on May 19th. If you have loads of airmiles and the freedom to come and go as you please, tickets for the otherwise sold-out performance are available on StubHub. Once again, I am hoping for some video footage to surface after the show and I'll let you know if it does.

A couple more Interference links: their official MySpace where you can hear the lovely Sail On, which isn't on either album, and their homepage.  And this is a nice article.

I'll stop now.

Out After Dark: Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks at the Fillmore

I don't get out as much as I used to, so I'm pathetically excited to post my first gig review. I'll confess, my main motivation for seeing the Stephen Malkmus show was that Janet Weiss, formerly of Sleater-Kinney, is drumming for the Jicks on this tour and I never tire of seeing her beat up on a drum kit. The woman is a force of nature and absolutely exhilarating to watch. The Stephen Malkmus material is a lot more mellow than the Sleater-Kinney stuff but Janet was still the highlight- executing tricky beats, singing great back-up and holding it all together while everyone else noodled around. The mood onstage was jovial and extra laid back, even a couple technical glitches didn't throw anyone. They all seemed to be having fun and feeding off one another, and it was great to watch.

It was also amazing to be out after dark. The nighttime sky is just as pretty as I remember it.

Musicality in Poetry

Today at Writing Forward, writing goddess Melissa Donovan answers my desperate plea for help in understanding meter in poetry. This post addresses many of the things I've been trying to wrap my head around since getting serious about poetry.

Normally I am not a big fan of 'how to write' books and sites, not because I don't see plenty of room for improvement in my own writing but because I believe the best way to make those improvements is simply to read literature and write, write, write. But I love Melissa's site. Her posts are clear, concise and practical. I find myself sitting up a little straighter in the chair every time I read one.

I owe you big time, Melissa. Thank you so much.

Mix Tape

The San Francisco Chronicle today has a sweetly nostalgic article about the mix tape. I'm lucky enough to have quite a few of these tucked away in a box, and now I want to go and dig them all out. I met some of my favorite bands this way.

Ode to a Nightingale

Just a little more Keats. I am reading other things and I want to share those too- but first this.

I chose Ode To A Nightingale because to me it feels the most personal of all the odes, and of all the great poetry that Keats wrote in the last year before he became ill. All the odes touch on similar questions- the place of art and poetry in life, the meaning of suffering, the development of human consciousness among them- but they each explore them differently. Often in his poetry Keats used mythological figures and stories to illustrate his points; this makes the directness of the third stanza of Ode to a Nightingale standout so much:

Fade far away, dissolve and quiet forget
What thou among the leaves has never known,
The weariness, the fever and the fret
Here where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey haris,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

This is something a reader today can understand without any notes or secondary commentary. It's immediate. One of Keats's preoccupations was the direction of poetry itself, and how it seemed to be turning inward and becoming much more personal that the poetry of Shakespeare or Milton which he admired. Keats was conflicted about this, but here he seems to give over to it and he gives us something that sounds very modern in an age where everything is personal.

The poem also displays what every commentary I've read acknowledges as one of Keats's strongest characteristics, his extraordinary empathy. Here it shines through as he addresses the nightingale throughout the entire poem, but it also comes across in a two line description of, "...the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home,/she stood in tears amid the alien corn;"

This is another wonderful poem to read aloud. Pure, lovely genius.

Lost Love

Here's one more from the Antonia Fraser anthology that has stuck with me. I like the contrast of the sing-song like rhythm of the lines- almost like a children's book- and what it actually says, which is something you have to be much older to understand.

Lost Love

Who wins his love shall lose her,
Who loses her shall gain,
For still the spirit woos her,
A soul without a stain;
And memory still pursues her
With longings not in vain!

He loses her who gains her,
Who watches day by day
The dust of time that stains her,
The griefs that leave her grey-
The flesh that yet enchains her
Whose grace hath passed away!

Oh, happier he who gains not
The love some seem to gain:
The joy that custom stains not
Shall still with him remain;
The loveliness that wanes not,
The love that ne'er can wane.

In dreams she grows not older
The lands of dream among;
Though all the world wax colder,
Though all the songs be sung,
In dreams doth he behold her
Still fair and kind and young.

Andrew Lang

Update

One of my favorite blogs, The Vinyl Villain, has a beautifully written review of the Edwyn Collins gig in Edinburgh last night.

I highly recommend The Vinyl Villain. They own every record I ever eyed longingly in the import section of my local Tower Records, back when I was just a slip of a girl in leg warmers and a spiral perm. Plus a lot of other stuff since then including plenty I'm unfamiliar with. They are very generous with the mp3s and they've turned me onto some new bands too.