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Friday Poem – Somnography

This week’s poem is from Polly Atkin’s Shadow Dispatches, which won Mslexia’s very first pamphlet competition in 2012.

These atmospheric and keenly observational poems offer us a slant perspective on everyday things and events: the ugliness of an elderly mute swan; or a group of migraine sufferers forming a fellowship and holding regular meetings. Poems addressing the complexity of contemporary relationships sit alongside those riffing on traditional themes, even – in the case of ‘Hermes Enodios’ and ‘Potnia Theron’ – revisiting classical gods. These are poems embedded in particular landscapes, in which the real becomes surreal and vice versa. Together they form a poetry which is deeply involved with the natural world – concerned with deer in fields and jays in woods – but which is not in any way removed, encompassing email, photoshop and fighter jets.

Somnography

Early this morning I got your note.
I can’t recall the words or meaning,

only the light oblique on the screen
and how it made it feel, certain

transmission was real. I could recite
all the messages received in my sleep

which days have tried to prove imagined,
and one correspondence aborted mid-sentence

which sent itself nevertheless, as though
the content refused erasure, arriving

complete through the ether. We dare not believe
these shadow dispatches: corrupted, wishful,

impossible to delete. The same way sheets
I never strung to dry at a window

still fill the room with sails long after
I’ve moved, and how I’m still reading a letter

a man never sent, though I could repeat it
verbatim, clear as the sun through the linen,

billowing yellow and sweet as the wedge
that lit your words I can’t remember,

or that email which backspaced even as I scrolled
down the face of the dream computer.

Order Shadow Dispatches from our website.

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Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover

It’s a lesson we’re all taught, but one few of us ever really learn. No matter how much we try and convince ourselves otherwise, how our books look matters; it’s easy to appeal to the wrong audience, or not appeal to the audience you’re aiming for at all, if you have a cover that isn’t right for your book.

It’s true that it’s what’s inside that counts, but nobody’s going to bother taking a look inside, or even picking your book up off the shelf, if it has a hideous cover. You could have written the next masterpiece – winner of all the awards! – but the way your story is packaged has to appeal to readers.

The great thing about book covers, and, frankly, life in general, is that everyone’s different. You’re unique, just like everyone else. All of our tastes vary, so what could be a horrible cover to some is a beautiful one to others. In that case you might even ask: ‘well what’s the point of this blog post at all?’ And to that I say: here are some of my personal favourite Seren book covers.

I’d love to know what some of yours are!

serencovers

Browse our books on our website.

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I Know What You Read Last Summer

Well actually I don’t, but now that summer is just around the corner I can at least tell you what we think you should be reading this summer!

Look out for these upcoming releases on our website.

InfragreenInfragreenrgb
by Kate Bingham

Perceptive, persuasive and intricately made, the poems of Kate Bingham’s third collection, Infragreen, take the reader on a startling and unfamiliar journey through everyday experiences and phenomena. Her keen eye, reflectiveness and quiet wit endow her subjects with a shimmering freshness.

Set within the four walls of home, on the streets of north London and in the Yorkshire countryside, the poems build out from mundane activities such as taking the pill, traveling a daily bus route and scything thistles. In Bingham’s hands, the familiar sights and hypnotic routines that normally lull the brain into unthinking acquiescence are the starting points for finding new richness in the world around us and our participation in it.

The book contains three sections, each infused by a different season and place, but a spirit of serious play presides throughout. Contemporary versions of Hardy and Frost, a collage cut from old favourite Christmas carols, and a refleshing of some of English poetry’s oldest clichés are part of it, but so too is Bingham’s fascination with pattern: the patterning required by some of poetry’s stricter traditional forms, and pattern as content, a subject in itself.

Those who know Bingham’s earlier work will recognize in this collection her playful, often darkly comic, appreciation of the surreal, which features hearts and hands, feet, and even a pair of shoes with minds and agenda of their own. Elsewhere, a milk-bottle breathes, a pocket of air turns into a winged creature, flies serenade the poet whose mortal scent has drawn them into her room. A ballad at the start of the final section tells the story of an artisan paper-maker whose origami creation is so perfect it comes to life, only to be destroyed again by its maker.

But beneath the gently cynical, almost self-deprecating tone lie Infragreen’s darker themes: a base note of environmental and existential anxiety in which teasing self-deprecation can mutate into a desire for disembodiment, and a ruthless wishing away of consciousness and self.

MorlaisMorlais cover
by Alun Lewis

Morlais is Alun Lewis’s unpublished novel from the late 1930s. The Laurentian story of a young boy growing up in the poverty stricken industrial valleys of south Wales, it also reflects Lewis’s own experiences, particularly his search for self-knowledge and his conviction that he would be a writer.

Miner’s son Morlais Jenkins is already being educated away from his background at grammar school when he is adopted, on the death of her own son, by the wife of the local local colliery owner. Morlais’s parents recognize the opportunity for their son to make a better future, but they must all pay a great price. Stifled by middle class life, his adoptive mother recognizes that Morlais will be a poet and encourages him to be neither working class or middle class, but true to his talent.

Full of vivid descriptive passages of life in the fictional mining valley, and centred on the conflicted character of Morlais and the decisions he faces over his two families, his two social backgrounds, and his desire to be a poet, the novel is an enthralling journey through the life of a young boy becoming a young man.

Alun Lewis (1915-1944) was the outstanding writer of World War Two and Morlais, written in his mid twenties, is an early indication of the talented writer he would become just five years later. This edition is accompanied by an Afterword by Lewis’s biographer, John Pikoulis.

coverThe Road to Zagora
by Richard Collins

When Richard Collins was diagnosed with a progressive incurable disease in 2006 he decided to see as much of the world as he could while his condition allowed. The result is The Road to Zagora, a singular travel book which takes in India, Nepal, Syria, Turkey, Morocco, Peru, Equador and Wales. ‘Mr Parkinson’, as Collins refers to his condition, informs the narrative.

As inveterate walkers Collins and his partner Flic decided to continue to travel ‘close to the land’ post diagnosis, leaving the tourist trails and visiting places of extremes: the Himalayas, rainforests, deserts. The difficulties of rough terrain, altitude, extremes of climate for a person with Collins’ condition are an ongoing strand of his narrative; occasionally they cannot be overcome and Collins is forced to consider the frailties of the human body in passages of moving contemplation.

The Road to Zagora also includes an element of memoir, as Parkinson’s Disease also causes Collins to reflect on his life, and in particular on his relationship with Flic. There are moments of great charm as their relationship evolves, and also the drama of previous serious illnesses. These recollections of pre-diagnosis life have the wistfulness of hindsight as Collins considers what constitutes a life well lived.

Yet any sentiment or self-pity is denied through Collins’s resolute and independent- mindedness and the quality of writing. In the travel passages the readers experiences the sheer physicality of Collins’ expeditions, along with his novelist’s eye for telling local detail. In the sequences of memoir the writing is humane, compassionate and quite often comic. The Road to Zagora is a memorable journey around the world, and the self.

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Friday Poem – String

infragreen

Today’s poem comes from Kate Bingham’s latest collection, Infragreen, due to be released in June.

‘String’ was first published in The Poetry Review.

Perceptive, persuasive and intricately made, the poems of Kate Bingham’s third collection, Infragreen, take the reader on a startling and unfamiliar journey through everyday experiences and phenomena. Her keen eye, reflectiveness and quiet wit endow her subjects with a shimmering freshness.

Set within the four walls of home, on the streets of north London and in the Yorkshire countryside, the poems build out from mundane activities such as taking the pill, traveling a daily bus route and scything thistles. In Bingham’s hands, the familiar sights and hypnotic routines that normally lull the brain into unthinking acquiescence are the starting points for finding new richness in the world around us and our participation in it.

The book contains three sections, each infused by a different season and place, but a spirit of serious play presides throughout. Contemporary versions of Hardy and Frost, a collage cut from old favourite Christmas carols, and a refleshing of some of English poetry’s oldest clichés are part of it, but so too is Bingham’s fascination with pattern: the patterning required by some of poetry’s stricter traditional forms, and pattern as content, a subject in itself.

Those who know Bingham’s earlier work will recognise in this collection her playful, often darkly comic, appreciation of the surreal, which features hearts and hands, feet, and even a pair of shoes with minds and agenda of their own. Elsewhere, a milk-bottle breathes, a pocket of air turns into a winged creature, flies serenade the poet whose mortal scent has drawn them into her room. A ballad at the start of the final section tells the story of an artisan paper-maker whose origami creation is so perfect it comes to life, only to be destroyed again by its maker.

But beneath the gently cynical, almost self-deprecating tone lie Infragreen’s darker themes: a base note of environmental and existential anxiety in which teasing self-deprecation can mutate into a desire for disembodiment, and a ruthless wishing away of consciousness and self.

String

The farmer kept his trousers up with string.
Out of his pockets like an entertainer
with a Punch and Judy sausage-string
he summoned knots of orange binder-twine,
a scruffy scratchy plastic nest of string
his filthy freckled hands pressed into mine.

The lining of his jacket hung in strings
but there would be a Cadbury’s Eclair,
a humbug, or a coil of licorice string
unwinding somewhere, hidden in the hem,

and I was not to give him back his string
until his fingers turned into a hen
and laid a sweet. He didn’t need the string.
I tugged his arm and trotted after him.

Check out Infragreen on our website.

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Seren at The Hay Festival

hayfestlogo

Today marks the beginning of The Hay Festival 2015, and this year there are plenty of events involving some of our very own authors.

my_family_and_other_superheroes_covercosta_quicksand coverPaul Henry and Jonathan Edwards will be reading from their latest collections, Boy Running and the Costa Poetry Prize-winning My Family and Other Superheroes respectively. If you’re a fan of poetry, T.S. Eliot Prize-winning poet Philip Gross and visual artist Valerie Coffin Price will also be discussing their collaborative collection, A Fold in the River, and Damian Walford Davies will be discussing and reading from his latest collection, Judas.

We’re alAlun Lewis 72so going to be celebrating the centenary of Alun Lewis at Hay this year, with two events dedicated to the WW2 writer. Juliet Aykroyd, Owen Sheers and John Pikoulis will be discussing Lewis’s time in India, in particular how he met and fell in love with Juliet’s mother, Freda Aykroyd, while Owen Sheers reads some of his poems.

Another event will see Gillian Clarke, the National Poet of Wales, do a close reading and discussion of Lewis’s poems.

Losing_Israelcmyk300Our prose is also getting some attention at Hay this year. Jasmine Donahaye will be talking to Francesca Rhydderch, author of the 2014 Wales Book of the Year The Rice Paper Diaries and co-editor of New Welsh Short Stories, about her upcoming memoir, Losing Israel, a moving and honest account of nature writing, travel writing and family history exploring the displacement of Palestinians in 1948.

For those of you who are fiction lovers, Tiffany Murray will be doing a late-night reading from her acclaimed ghost story, Sugar Hall, where she will be joined by David Mitchell, author of Cloud Atlas and the upcoming Slade House.

With so much to see this year at Hay, you’d be a fool to miss out! Buy your tickets online at www.hayfestival.com, or check out our Events Page for more information.

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Friday Poem – Io’s Sisters

This week’s poem comes from Graham Mort’s collection, Cusp. His latest short story collection, Terroir, is now available on our website.

Cusp features many of the qualities readers have come to admire from Graham Mort; keen observation, a feeling for the natural world that echoes and enhances the human interactions in his poems, the sense of the individual as part of a larger society of which we are implicitly responsible. New here is a different sort of line, which alternates short and longer lines in a step-like formation, a terracing which propels the narratives along. Also included is the remarkable, ambitious long poem, ‘Electricity’, fizzing with riffs on its theme. Mort’s formal rigour, instinctive compassion, and warm humanity shine through in this new book, the first since his acclaimed: Visibility: New and Selected Poems.

Io’s Sisters

The usual English summer:
early heat stoking speedwell
dog’s mercury stealing
a march, then months
of drizzle until rosehips
were fading coals
in the hedgerows
sloes a hidden bruise
slugs cruising a lacework
of green and bodies coming
home under Union Jacks
salutes, tributes, the Last Post.

Then on the fading cusp
of August, cows calling
nightlong into rain that
pelted the village:
knock-kneed, teats dragging
in mud, their lungs’ bellows
working the drenched ember
of summer, as if Hera’s spite
stranded them beyond
phonetical love; their eyes
goaded by flies, their tongues
turning a hoarse cud of longing.

Even in darkness
we question their sad
calling with the glib surety
of words, shaping these
smallest sounds as if glass
had broken in our mouths
to join up again as meaning
measure the loss in their
inhuman mooning yet
still fall short of ours.

Engorged, drooling
teat-sore, they drag their
banishment through wet
fields, call for their stolen
calves in pain so large
so inexpressible so deep
it erupts from the colossal
absence they circle as if
they have known in one
form, one incarnation, one
language of consonant
delight a delicacy they
could never speak in this
brute sphere, nor ever be
transfigured to themselves.

Order Cusp and Terroir from our website.

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Dylan Day

idtd

Thursday 14th May marks the very first International Dylan Thomas Day – Dylan Day – paying homage to the anniversary of the date Under Milk Wood was first read on stage in New York in 1953. Today Literature Wales are inviting everyone to celebrate Dylan Day in their own way, whether it’s by reading some of Dylan’s work or visiting somewhere associated with Dylan; luckily for us, Swansea’s just a train ride away!

On social media Literature Wales are encouraging people everywhere to show how they’re celebrating with the hashtag #DylanDay, and they’re even looking for photographs of readers reading Dylan using the hashtag #DylanSelfie. Have you taken part yet?

dylanday

Find these Dylan Thomas related books and more on our website!

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Friday Poem – Goodbye

Today it’s the 70th anniversary of VE Day, marking 70 years since the end of the Second World War in Europe, and so today’s poem comes from Alun Lewis’s Collected Poems.

Alun Lewis (1915-1944), the remarkable poet and story writer, died, aged 28, in Burma during the Second World War. Some critics see him as the last of the great Romantic poets, a twentieth century Keats. Others view him as the bridge between pre-war poets like Auden and Yeats to post-war poets such as Hughes and Gunn. He was born and raised in Depression-struck south Wales and, following degrees in history at Aberystwyth and Manchester, became a teacher there. Early in 1940, despite his pacifist inclinations he enlisted and, after long periods of training, joined the war in India.

Becoming a soldier galvanised Lewis’s writing. By 1944 he had written two collections of poems and one of short stories, all published to considerable acclaim. Firmly established with Keith Douglas as the leading writer of the Second World War, Lewis’s death in an accident while on active service was a huge loss to English literature. Collected Poems comprises a body of work which has endured and which transcends the label ‘war poetry’; it is complete in itself and full of promise of greater things.

Goodbye

So we must say Goodbye, my darling,
And go, as lovers go, for ever;
Tonight remains, to pack and fix on labels
And make an end of lying down together.

I put a final shilling in the gas,
And watch you slip your dress below your knees
And lie so still I hear your rustling comb
Modulate the autumn in the trees.

And all the countless things I shall remember
Lay mummy-cloths of silence round my head;
I fill the carafe with a drink of water;
You say ‘We paid a guinea for this bed,’

And then, ‘We’ll leave some gas, a little warmth
For the next resident, and these dry flowers,’
And turn your face away, afraid to speak
The big word, that Eternity is ours.

Your kisses close my eyes and yet you stare
As though god struck a child with nameless fears;
Perhaps the water glitters and discloses
Time’s chalice and its limpid useless tears.

Everything we renounce except our selves;
Selfishness is the last of all to go;
Our sighs are exhalations of the earth,
Our footprints leave a track across the snow.

We made the universe to be our home,
Our nostrils took the wind to be our breath,
Our hearts are massive towers of delight,
We stride across the seven seas of death.

Yet when all’s done you’ll keep the emerald
I placed upon your finger in the street;
And I will keep the patches that you sewed
On my old battledress tonight, my sweet.

Order Alun Lewis: Collected Poems from our website.

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Friday Poem – Street Scene

house of small absences

Today’s poem is from Anne-Marie Fyfe’s latest collection, House of Small Absences, due for release this month.

Anne-Marie Fyfe’s poems have long dwelt on the role that the spaces we inhabit, the places in which we find security, play in our lives: House of Small Absences is an observation window into strange, unsettling spaces—a deserted stage-set, our own personalised ‘museum’, a Piedmont albergo, underground cities, Midtown roof-gardens, convent orchards, houseboats, a foldaway circus, a Romanian sleeper-carriage—the familiar rendered uncanny through the distorting lenses of distance and life’s exigencies, its inevitable lettings-go…

Street Scene

‘Nowhere’ is a setting, a situation and a state of mind.
It’s not on any map, but you know it when you’re there.
– Don George, Tales from Nowhere

When you turn your back on the street
and walk away one block, then two,
the over-familiar street-view’s exposed
as propped-up storefronts and verandahs,
sceneries of wings and facades
that could shudder and collapse
in the whish of the tenderest summer breeze.

The scene’s drained first of Technicolor
and then slips slowly out of focus,
passers-by strutting staccato
into the maze of tram-line junctions
that never make it into town’s gazetteer.

Each new city block takes you further
from the grip of a reality that’s already
packing-up shop behind you, shipping
for storage or the next production.
You’d do best to maintain a brisk walking pace.

Pre-order a copy of House of Small Absences from our website.

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Revealing the Independent Publishers

Last week we put together some logos of six different independent publishers, some of them British and some of them not, to see if you could identify any of them by their logos alone. Today we’re going to reveal which publishers those logos belong to, and tell you just a little about them!

persephone books

Persephone Books was founded in 1999 by Nicola Beauman, whose original concept was to publish a handful of lost or out-of-print books each year. The majority of these books would be inter-war novels and short stories written by women, and so the name Persephone was chosen as a symbol for female creativity. Though they sell the majority of their books online, they also have a bookshop in London where they are based.

honno_logo

A little earlier, Honno Press was founded by a group of volunteers in 1986 who wanted to increase the opportunities for women in the realms of Welsh publishing. They asked for support from the Welsh public, and in the first 6 months 400 people became shareholders in the company. To this day they still only publish work by the womenof Wales, and have published everything from fiction to poetry to non-fiction. They are based in Aberystwyth.

tpp

Twelfth Planet Press are a little further afield – in Australia, to be exact! Founded in 2009 and based in Yokine, Western Australia, Twelfth Planet Press specialises in speculative fiction, whether it’s Fantasy, Science Fiction, Horror, or any sub genre in between! Their aim is to publish fresh fiction away from the typical work seen in the speculative fiction genre today, as well as to promote Australian fiction to a wider audience and give a louder voice to women writers.

2ravens

A little closer than that, Two Ravens Press is based in Scotland. Founded near Ullapool in 2006, they later moved to the Port of Ness in 2013. Quite possibly the most remote independent publisher in Britain, they publish contemporary literary fiction, non-fiction and poetry, some of which has won a variety of major literary awards.

gomer

Back to Wales now, to a publisher who may be a little more familiar to many of you. Gomer Press was founded back in 1892, and to this day it’s still run by the same family! They specialise in English and Welsh books for both children and adults, whether it’s fiction, non-fiction or poetry, and are based in Llandysul, west Wales.

Mercier

Based in Cork, Mercier Press are Ireland’s oldest independent publishers, having been around since 1944. Mercier rose to prominence publishing books which explored topics such as religion, women’s rights, domestic violence, the sexual revolution and drug abuse, some of which had previously been banned in Ireland. They publish both fiction and non-fiction, and offer an alternative voice to the Irish publishing world.

So, did you guess any correctly?