dave:
> I think I might have mentioned before my horror at hearing a tale told
about
> one the joint editors of the 'biggest' magazine in this area, she was
> talking to someone whom she picked up on for having a faint Notts accent,
> she went on to say, in conclusion, that in her opinion no-one with a
> Birmingham accent should ever be published anywhere. As I'm the only East
> Midlands poet with a Brummie accent and something of a name and she's met
me
> the reference was probably to me. The magazine in question is
substantially
> backed by EMA, even though their declared policy is that they don't
support
> magazines.
Just a few wee corrections and provisos here, as I may be the source of
this. <g>
The remark -- "Really, it's amazing how someone with your accent can write
poetry" (or should write poetry, or something) was, as reported to me,
delivered by a Leicester poetaster, but not, I think, by one of the two
editors to whom dave is referring. [But it's possible it was -- my memory
is becoming a little vague due to erosion of the intellectuals through
alcohol, and dave's memory of my memory may be more accurate than mine.]
What struck me (among other things) is that to my tin Scots ear, the poet in
question to whom that stunningly-patronising remark had been addressed had
an echt-middle-class English accent, so I immediately thought, "Bloody hell,
if that's how +she's+ seen, I wonder where that would put dave and his
Brummie accent?" So dave's name didn't come up (directly), but was my
extrapolation. But given the context, a fair one, I think, so dave's
general perspective holds.
Not to mention any names, but a reading of Deborah Tyler-Bennet's _Clark
Gable in Mansfield_, when it comes out (soon), might be relevant here.
As a slightly-linked aside, and because it's suddenly in my mind, having
just reviewed the Chide's Alphabet posts on this -- class/region/time, and
the institutionalisation of poetry. Not that long ago, Glasgow University
appointed the composite Dream Team as Professor of Creative Writing -- Tom
Leonard, Jim Kelman, Alastair Gray.
Now, on the face of it, this should be sheer magic -- three writers, all
"working-class", two novelists and a poet, two generations [and OK, no
women, as even the Dream Team worried about a little]. But ... I suddenly
had this nasty thought that it +could+ (I hope I'm wrong) be the Scottish
Establishment co-opting and neutering writers. Mibee it's the case, as with
the new regime at the Poetry Review that dave points to, that Only Time Will
Tell ...
Dunno. Looking back thirty-odd years, there's something Deeply Ironic about
the Dream Team being (now) Academically Respectable, given the trouble it
was to get anyone to PRINT (let alone publish) "Six Glasgow Poems" or "Nice
Tae Be Nice" ...
[In those two particular cases, censorship bit in, +not+ on the level of
"let's publish," but over, "Bloody hell, we've just been turned down by the
third printer in a row." At least I don't have this problem with Phantom
Rooster -- unless {which is entirely possible} I find myself caught between
an argument between the left and right hemispheres of my brain. Left says
"Publish!" and right says "Brummie illiterate!".
Argh! The sad bit about this severely non-PC joke is PRP has more serious
problems than the Right Side Of My Brain -- I'm perfectly capable of keeping
The Right Side Of My Brain onside.
Whatever, _Painting Without Numbers_ will be out Real Soon Now.]
Maybe I'm simply being gloomily pessimistic (as usual) but I'm worried a
little.
Of to get my daily fix of The Guardian. Currently (in an inverse of dave's
insomnia) I seem to be sleeping for two.
Robin
