written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Showing posts with label Roald Dahl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Roald Dahl. Show all posts

Thursday, 16 May 2013

The Ning Nang No?

This week's theme is loosely related to a question I've been considering lately.  I've entered a couple of poetry competitions this year.  Two of them were competitions which would result in having a collection published. 

When gathering up my scribblings I realised that my poems fall into two camps: those which I've written to entertain and those which I've written to explore the art form.  The former tend to be a hit with the majority of my audience (people who claim not to like poetry enjoy hearing or reading them) and the latter have received praise from poets whose work and opinions I respect.

In order to succeed in competitions, I always assume that the judges (respected/acclaimed poets) are looking for something which pushes the art form while recognising the tradition.  They want something smart and beautiful which has a tendency to resonate for a long time after it has been read, e.g. Olds' Stag's Leap or McCarthy's The Clothes that escaped the Great War.  These poems are mostly for the poets.  I suspect that the majority of consumers of the 'high art' poetry are poets themselves.

On the other hand, the enduring poems which win the 'nation's favourite' polls, i.e. the popular poetry, are often easier to understand, have basic metrical schemes and simple end rhymes.  They tend to express novel or virtuous philosophical ideas in simple terms, e.g. Kipling's If, Joseph's When I am Old, Eliot's Practical Cats. 

It's the popular poetry which works better for performance.  Long, wordy poems with elaborate metaphors require multiple readings whereas snappy, humorous verse is immediately pleasing.  This accounts, I think, for the success of Kate Tempest and the surge in the popularity of live poetry events. 

Poetry competitions tend to want poems for print rather than performance.  Often, competitions are run with the intention of publishing a collection or an anthology.  These books rarely sell well, which is why literary agents are allergic to poets. 

Much as I despise the term, I do think this comes down to branding.  Take Tim Key.  He made his name on programmes such as Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe, when he would read short, topical poems which were loosely related to the week's news.  His poems are funny and easily understood and yet I bought a copy of his first collection on the back of his performances.  I enjoyed reading it and shared it with my partner.  We both gained pleasure from the reading.  I don't expect I'll go back to the poems to re-read them. 

There are other books of poems which I keep because I do like to read their contents repeatedly (or at least I think that I would like to re-read them but tend not to as I'm busy reading new stuff instead).  I don't see why there shouldn't also be many books of poems which are published as entertainment rather than important tomes, weighty with words of gravity and cleverness.  Just as there is a time for jazz, the blues or classical music, so there is a time for fun, bubbly pop.  And just as there is a time for important collections of poetry, so there is also a time for the Spike Milligan, the Roald Dahl, the Dorothy Parker and the Tim Key. 

As for the poetry competitions, they tend to judge on artistic integrity over entertainment value.  So I suppose I know which poems to enter.  Or perhaps I should start my own competition?


Sunday, 3 March 2013

Children's Writing


 by Colin Davies

 It's quite a funny thing to say “I write for children” when to be honest, I actually write for me. Even though I enjoy 90% of a Stephen King novel as much as the next man (or woman), it is the stories that are reported as being written for children that I have always found the most intriguing.

This might be because once you cut out the swearing and any sexual reference (unless you're writing for teenagers, but I'll talk about the dangers of dating a vampire while dick-teasing the local werewolf another day) you can pretty much write about whatever you want.

It's like total escapism. Jumping through holes that take you to the magical yet sinister lands; secret platforms to catch trains to mystical boarding schools; making a complete mess while cooking after you've been told not to; making more of a mess while trying to clean up the first mess; trying to keep the carers of the children's home away so they don't know what you've done.

Spike Milligan used to write children's poetry and published a number of books. Roald Dahl wrote with a dark yet exciting style to entertain his granddaughter, while writing a James Bond script (You Only Live Twice) and helping to invent a life saving artificial heart valve (WRT Valve). Even J. R. R. Tolkien had a fascination with old nursery rhymes that had been handed down through the ages.

So, as I was saying, I don't see these as children's writers. I view them as writers of high imagination, with the skills to create images in my head by feeding me just the right amount of information that my own imagination can use to create the worlds with such vivid colours and smells and textures that I believe in them wholeheartedly.

From the nonsense

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!
(Lewis Carroll)

To the silly

A hundred hair scavengers,
Sitting down to lunch.
Gobble, gobble,
Glub, glub,
Munch, munch, munch.
(Spike Milligan)

Basically, texts advertised as children's literature are nothing more than writings that adults will enjoy reading to their little one.

Nooks and Crannies

Look inside a Nook,
In the shadows of the wall
See if you can find a Cranny
Who won't do you harm at all

But do not disturb,
The Slinth on guard.
With big sharp teeth,
And bite, real hard.

Or place your hand
on a slumbered Wozat
Who's skin oozes slime,
Under it's tiny top hat.

Or Fix the gaze
Of a hiding Oodare
That'll take the sight from your eyes
with it's granite like stare

And avoid the attentions
Of the sneaky Abgroblit
With his sticky fingers
Will steal from your pocket

And never let your guard down
Against a Bull nosed Snerr
With a stench like rotting toe nails
So you'll know that it's there.

Stay clear of nasties,
Avoid critters as you look.
For the harmless Crannies,
Under shadows, in a Nook.

Colin Davies is the author of the successful children's book, Mathamagical: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mathamagical-Colin-Davies/dp/1905949006  


Sunday, 18 November 2012

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Roald Dahl: Slutty Cinderellas, Ugly Twits, Filthy Little Maggots and a Splattering of Controversy

Last week, on the 13th September, it was Roald Dahl Day. I, along with many other Twitter users, was slightly surprised and aggravated by the lack of a Google Doodle to mark the occasion. It irritated me because – from my perspective, at least – it seemed like a fairly simple task to undertake. Roald Dahl left behind his imagination: vivid descriptions, brilliant neologisms and characters that remain with us long after we’ve closed the book – not to mention the perfectly apt illustrations of Quentin Blake. Yet Google said, NO! And as a consequence, the geeky part of my persona was left disappointed.

Yes, Google did honour Dahl in 2007 with a Doodle (which can be found here) to mark what would have been the author’s 91st birthday. However, this year – which marked both his 95th birthday and 50 years since the publication of James and the Giant Peach – there was nothing more than the ever-so-familiar Google logo.

It was also last week (and on the same day) that Dahl’s Granddaughter, Sophie Dahl, featured on the Today Programme and spoke about the £500,000 needed to preserve / move Roald Dahl’s writing shed. The appeal caused uproar among Radio 4 listeners, and quickly spread to Twitter where one annoyed tweeter wrote: “Have I got this wrong? The international model and TV star Sophie Dahl is asking us for money to restore a shed.” Even Times columnist Janice Turner felt she needed to throw in her shrapnel bit (and a few typos), writing: “Roald Dahl’s shed needs £250K to be renovated. Sophie Dahl could earn that on a single advertising modelling job., the Big Stingy Giant.”

I, however, did not find myself bitter or angry. I realise that we are in difficult economic times. I – like many others – have undergraduate debts. I have a cleaning job to cover living expenses and MA fees. But, if the Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre wanted a donation from myself, I would gladly give what I could afford. Because to me, culture and heritage have a great importance; they’re the things that cannot be replaced once you’ve lost them. You can’t find them on Amazon or inside the mammoth Argos catalogue, because their worth derives, in part, from their singularity. Dahl’s shed is how he left it: the wastepaper bin has not been emptied, his last Marlboro rests on the edge of a full ashtray, letters and photographs still adorn the polystyrene tiled walls (complete with nicotine stains). And to lose a piece of literary history, such as this, would be like erasing the Ommpa Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or replacing Matilda’s love of literature with a PS3. Unthinkable, mindboggling, unimaginable, absurd, inconceivable and unbelievable.

As you are probably aware, Dahl’s work – rather than the preservation of his writing shed - also received much criticism. The portrayal of adults, his use of language, and themes that have been classified as anti-authoritarian, anti-sentimental, misogynistic and racist have caused great debate amongst literary critics, parents, teachers, librarians. Two of his books, at one time or another, were even seen as so “dangerous” that they were banned in parts of America. But children kept reading, and continued to be fascinated by Dahl’s imagination.

I won’t go into a discussion about censorship within children’s literature (a blog post does not afford me the space), but I will say this: I stumbled across a copy of Matilda in the local library when I was 6 years old. I read the first two chapters before I left the library. I finished the book before going to sleep that night. I continued to read Roald Dahl’s books throughout my childhood. And, as far as I can see, they did me no harm – other than equipping me with a love of literature (which can be expensive).

So, even after his death, it would seem that Dahl cannot escape controversy – his writing (or his shed) will continue to divide and prompt debate.

Thank you for reading,
Lar