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Thursday, 21 June 2018

The Write Advice 109: CLAIRE MESSUD


As a writer, I subscribe to Chekhov’s world view: 'It’s not my job to tell you that horse thieves are bad people. It’s my job to tell you what this horse thief is like.' The more accurately one can illuminate a particular human experience, the better the work of art.  I’m not an autobiographical, or biographical, writer, except in some abstract sense.  If I had to summarize, most broadly, my concerns as a writer, I’d say the question 'how then must we live?' is at the heart of it, for me.  It can only be addressed in the individual, not in the general; each of us on this planet must come to terms with this question for him or herself.
      As a reader, I’ve long felt passionately about fictions that articulate anger, frustration, disappointment — from reading Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground, in high school, when I thought, 'my God, fiction can do this? Fiction can say these unsayable things?' to reading Beckett or Camus or Philip Roth’s Sabbath’s Theater to Thomas Bernhard — these are all articulating unseemly, unacceptable experiences and emotions, rage prominent among them.  Because rage at life and rage for life are very closely linked.  To be angry, you have to give a shit.

An Unseemly Emotion: Publisher's Weekly Talks with Claire Messud [29 April 2013]


 

Use the link below to read the full 2013 interview with North American novelist CLAIRE MESSUD:

 

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/authors/interviews/article/56848-an-unseemly-emotion-pw-talks-with-claire-messud.html

 

 

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The Write Advice 059: KRISTINA HAYNES 

Thursday, 14 June 2018

Poet of the Month 048: AMRITA BHARATI


AMRITA BHARATI
c 2000





 
 
 
DEEP IN THE STILLNESS



 

He threw me away
like a clod of earth.
He didn't know
I was a thing with a soul.
He didn't know
I was alive.

He kept on throwing me
like a clod of earth
out of his way ––
onto that neglected path
that happened to be mine.
And so I kept travelling
along my own way.
Each time some fragment broke off ––
some infatuation, some addiction to happiness,
some earthly hope,
some dream squandered on man.
Each time some fragment of my being
would break off.
And now it was my turn.
The world was already left behind ––
like a desert in a sandstorm,
like an ocean in a hurricane,
like a desolate city.
Man, step by step descending, 
was already left behind.
And now it was my turn.
Standing on the last patch of earth
I gathered myself into a whole thing
and hurled myself into the stillness.
This was my silence ––
pervasive and expansive.
Now the world was either a dream
or a sea-flower
imagined at the end of the ocean.
Deep in the stillness.
Only the sound of my footsteps.

 

 


date unspecified


 
 
 
 
 
Translated by 
 
LUCY ROSENSTEIN





 

 

The following biographical statement appears on the website of The Poetry Translation Centre.  [It is re-posted here for information purposes only and, like the poem re-posted above, remains its author's exclusive copyright-protected intellectual property.]

 
 

Amrita Bharati (born 1939) is one of the most gifted and prolific female poets of her generation: she has written seven books of poetry and a volume of prose. Yet her name has no currency in Hindi poetic circles, or in western scholarship: there are no studies of her poetry and some of her collections are out of print. 

 

This sentencing to silence seems astounding to anyone who has encountered Amrita Bharati's unique poetic world.  Her poetry is a witness to a complex spiritual journey which takes her from a land of intense existential angst, agony and anger to a refuge of serenity where ‘the mind stops' and the anguished protagonist finds herself and ‘Him'.  The visionary power of her poetry is all the more astounding as she treads totally new ground.  Unlike her main predecessor –– Mahadevi Verma  –– whose poetic 'I' is a stylised, idealised image of the eternal woman in love, a product of the poet's imagination rather than a reflection of her experience –– Amrita Bharati has the 'courage to probe into [the] inner world, and to make it public property.'

 

 

Amrita Bharati's poetry is undoubtedly informed by her studies of Sanskrit (she did an MA and a PhD in Sanskrit at Benares Hindu University) and her intimate knowledge of Sri Aurobindo's work (she has translated several of his poems in Hindi). Her poems contain numerous references to Vedantic ideas, Tantric images and Krishna bhakti. 

 

The critic Nirmal Verma said of her, 'Amrita Bharati is probably the most alone signature on the slate of contemporary Hindi poetry.  Alone and unique.'


 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read more poems by Indian poet AMRITA BHARATI:

 

 

http://www.poetrytranslation.org/poems/it-happens-again

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Poet of the Month 043: BEJAN MATUR

 

 

 
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Last updated 13 April 2021

 

Thursday, 7 June 2018

The Write Advice: CARTOON 006


© 2007 Debbie Ridpath Ohi




Use the link below to visit the website of Canadian writer, cartoonist and illustrator DEBBIE RIDPATH OHI:

 

http://debbieohi.com/ 

 

 

 

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Friday, 25 May 2018

Think About It 037: THICH NHAT HANH


If you pour a handful of salt into a cup of water, the water becomes undrinkable.  But if you pour the salt into a river, people can continue to draw the water to cook, wash and drink.  The river is immense, and it has the capacity to receive, embrace and transform.  When our hearts are small, our understanding and compassion are limited, and we suffer.  We can’t accept or tolerate others and their shortcomings, and we demand that they change.  But when our hearts expand, these same things don’t make us suffer anymore.  We have a lot of understanding and compassion and can embrace others.  We accept others as they are, and then they have a chance to transform.

How To Love (2014)


 

Use the link below to read about the life and work of Vietnamese monk and peace activist THICH NHAT HANH:

 

https://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/

 

 

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Friday, 18 May 2018

The Write Advice 108: JOHN LE CARRÉ


I have two, three really good creative hours.  I mean, if you were an athlete you wouldn’t really have more than two or three good hours in the day, but the rest of the day is… work that prepares your body for the same two to three hours…
      Writing is the same.  Part of this semi-athletic process is to keep the brain on edge, to keep the conflict going inside you, to be able to use all the possibilities of your own character.

Quoted in John LeCarré (1999), a TV documentary directed by MARC JAPPAIN


 

Use the link below to visit the website of British espionage novelist JOHN LE CARRÉ:

 

https://johnlecarre.com/

 

 

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Friday, 11 May 2018

Poet of the Month 047: DEREK WALCOTT


DEREK WALCOTT
1930 – 2017







BLUES



Those five or six young guys
hunched on the stoop
that oven-hot summer night
whistled me over.  Nice
and friendly.  So, I stop.
MacDougal or Christopher
Street in chains of light.

 

A summer festival.  Or some
saint's.  I wasn't too far from
home, but not too bright
for a nigger, and not too dark.
I figured we were all
one, wop, nigger, jew,
besides, this wasn't Central Park.
I'm coming on too strong?  You figure
right!  They beat this yellow nigger
black and blue.

 

Yeah.  During all this, scared
in case one used a knife,
I hung my olive-green, just-bought
sports coat on a fire plug.
I did nothing.  They fought
each other, really.  Life
gives them a few kicks,
that's all.  The spades, the spicks.

 

My face smashed in, my bloody mug
pouring, my olive-branch jacket saved
from cuts and tears,
I crawled four flights upstairs.
Sprawled in the gutter, I
remember a few watchers waved
loudly, and one kid's mother shouting
like 'Jackie' or 'Terry,'
'now that's enough!'
It's nothing really.
They don't get enough love.

 

You know they wouldn't kill
you.  Just playing rough,
like young Americans will.
Still it taught me something
about love.  If it's so tough,
forget it. 

 

 

 

date unspecified






 

 

 

The following biographical statement appears on The Poetry Foundation website.  [It is re-posted here for information purposes only and, like the poem re-posted above, remains its author's exclusive copyright-protected intellectual property.]

 

Born on the island of Saint Lucia, a former British colony in the West Indies, poet and playwright Derek Walcott was trained as a painter but turned to writing as a young man. He published his first poem in the local newspaper at the age of 14.  Five years later, he borrowed $200 to print his first collection, 25 Poems, which he distributed on street corners.  Walcott’s major breakthrough came with the collection In a Green Night: Poems 1948-1960 (1962), a book which celebrates the Caribbean and its history as well as investigates the scars of colonialism and post-colonialism. Throughout a long and distinguished career, Walcott returned to those same themes of language, power, and place. His later collections include Tiepolo’s Hound (2000), The Prodigal (2004), Selected Poems (2007), White Egrets (2010), and Morning, Paramin (2016). In 1992, Walcott won the Nobel Prize in Literature. The Nobel committee described his work as 'a poetic oeuvre of great luminosity, sustained by a historical vision, the outcome of a multicultural commitment.' 

 

Since the 1950s Walcott divided his time between Boston, New York, and Saint Lucia. His work resonates with Western canon and Island influences, sometimes even shifting between Caribbean patois and English, and often addressing his English and West Indian ancestry. According to Los Angeles Times Book Review contributor Arthur Vogelsang, 'These continuing polarities shoot an electricity to each other which is questioning and beautiful and which helps form a vision altogether Caribbean and international, personal (him to you, you to him), independent, and essential for readers of contemporary literature on all the continents.'  Known for his technical control, erudition, and large canvases, Walcott was, according to poet and critic Sean O’Brien, 'one of the handful of poets currently at work in English who are capable of making a convincing attempt to write an epic… His work is conceived on an oceanic scale and one of its fundamental concerns is to give an account of the simultaneous unity and division created by the ocean and by human dealings with it.'  

 

Many readers and critics point to Omeros (1990), an epic poem reimagining the Trojan War as a Caribbean fishermen’s fight, as Walcott’s major achievement. The book is 'an effort to touch every aspect of Caribbean experience,' according to O’Brien who also described it as an ars poetica, concerned 'with art itself — its meaning and importance and the nature of an artistic vocation.'  In reviewing Walcott’s Selected Poems (2007), poet Glyn Maxwell ascribes Walcott’s power as a poet not so much to his themes as to his ear: 'The verse is constantly trembling with a sense of the body in time, the self slung across metre, whether metre is steps, or nights, or breath, whether lines are days, or years, or tides.' 

 

 

Walcott was also a renowned playwright. In 1971 he won an Obie Award for his play Dream on Monkey Mountain, which the New Yorker described as 'a poem in dramatic form.' Walcott’s plays generally treat aspects of the West Indian experience, often dealing with the socio-political and epistemological implications of post-colonialism and drawing upon various forms such as the fable, allegory, folk, and morality play.  With his twin brother, he co-founded the Trinidad Theater Workshop in 1950; in 1981, while teaching at Boston University, he founded the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre. He also taught at Columbia University, Yale University, Rutgers University, and Essex University in England.

 

 

In addition to his Nobel Prize, Walcott’s honors included a MacArthur Foundation 'genius' award, a Royal Society of Literature Award, and, in 1988, the Queen’s Medal for Poetry. He was an honorary member of the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters.  He died in 2017.


 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read more poems by Caribbean poet and playwright DEREK WALCOTT:

 

 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/derek-walcott

 

 

 

 

 

 

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