Talking Myself Home

Richard Wilcocks writes:

If priests could be as constantly, persistently entertaining as Ian McMillan, they would have no problems filling churches. People would come early and sit sleeplessly at the front, every week, and their responses would be toothy grins, laughs and sporadic shouts of recognition. He held us yesterday evening for an hour and a quarter, and we writhed with pleasure as he walked, hands flying, in front of the crossless altar in this magnificent, deconsecrated church in Cardigan Road, which still retains its name - St Margaret of Antioch - but which is now known as Left Bank Leeds, an award-winning venue for music and the arts brought into being by a group of hardworking volunteers, when the alternative would have been a decline and fall.

Ian McMillan is what a stereotype of a Yorkshireman should be, not a 'vinegar-faced' and narrow-minded character (like Joseph in Wuthering Heights?) but really friendly, warm-hearted and, yes, homely - the sort of bloke you wouldn't mind at all eating at your table with, or watching the match with, unless, of course, if it was Barnsley thrashing Leeds 5 - 2. He's the exact opposite of crabby, and he lets the imagination take the initiative.

He goes far beyond the homely and you only notice this afterwards, when you recollect his words in tranquillity. He transcends Darfield, you might add. Universal themes are in there. Love and affection?

To select gobbets of delight from his programme, in which well-worn, endlessly hilarious material (like his observations on new pupils in infant schools) was mixed with the newly-created, I would fish out his nursery rhymes, in which words are randomly replaced with 'fish', his stories about when he worked on a building site, his mention of Sir Alec Clegg, who founded Bretton Hall College and who ensured that the West Riding Education Authority was the most innovative in the country, and his poems and stories about his mother and her funeral which were so funny, so funny, and so poignant, so poignant. Love and affection.

There was an experimental aspect, because our partners at Left Bank were trying things out, like the new PA system, which did not serve the back two rows very well. Accoustics are always a problem in churches. The cold was kept at bay efficiently, with two gas-powered tubes which fired warm air in to the space for hours before the performance. Choral music should work at future events.

On arriving home at ten, The Verb was on Radio 3, and Ian McMillan was interviewing our guest from last year, Ben Okri. 

Talking Myself Home at Left Bank

Paul Hudson writes:
Assault on Cardigan Road - were you there?


Have you ever been battered by words?

If not you missed a great evening when Ian McMillan assaulted a packed
audience at the Left Bank last night. The pauses were far and few between so breathing became rather difficult especially when the laughter was taken into account. It was never ever a 'poetry reading' more a glimpse into the life and experience of Ian.

He took us all to places he visits and people he meets as well as some
special moments.

A lot of people were tired at the end of the attack, tired from laughing so much on this whirlwind tour of everything and anything.



(More to follow on Talking Myself Home!)

Poetic Lingo from Headingley

A compère's response. Doug Sandle writes:

“Ladies and gentlemen of this pulsating parish of Headingley, we are proudly presenting a sumptuous stanza of pronouncing poets, a veritable versified evening of lingo-istic largesse to both edify and delight us!”

 So the introduction might have been if instead of the Heart café we were at the Leeds City Varieties.  However, I opened with the more conventional "it's my pleasure and privilege to be your host", which on paper seems boringly meaningless, yet in truth it was a genuine pleasure to see a ‘full house’ of expectation and to be able to compère a line- up of poets that in each of their own ‘genres’ were truly talented.

Having outlined in my introduction some of the rich and remarkable poetic historical precedents for the poetic lingo of Headingley and Leeds 6 - for example the likes of Jon Silkin, Peter Redgrove, Martin Bell, Geoffrey Hill, Ken Smith, Tony Harrison and George Szirtes as well as the contemporary buzz of poetic activity and talent taking place in Headingley and district - there was much for our present gathering to live up to. However from the very first warm up ‘prologue session’ that featured a ‘melody’ of expressed feelings, metaphors, images, and human experience and which included three generations sharing a bed, a rather smelly and badly behaved cat, and an account of unrequited ‘commercial’ love in a call-centre, there was no chance that our performers would not live up to such a provenance. Indeed they presented a varied and deeply rewarding experience that genuinely engaged an attentive and very appreciative audience.

The scene having been set, what followed in individual presentations by our poets was a moving, exciting and thought provoking evening that really did stir the imagination, move the soul, lift the heart and engross the mind. Different styles of poetic lingo, different cadences, some more cerebral than others, some more physically engaging, some more challenging, some more revealing and some more poetically fragile - but in their sum total came together to leave a satisfying sense of lingering engagement with what it is to be creatively human and to genuinely communicate with honesty, depth and a commitment to both the power and subtlety of words and both spoken and unspoken language.

While my compère’s  concluding ‘thank –yous’  to Paul Adrian, Lis Bertolla, Fatima El-Jack, Jasmine Joseph, James Nash, Lucy Newlyn and David Tait also look rather stilted on paper, they were nonetheless heartfelt, as quite evidently were those of the audience as expressed in their  final enthusiastic applause and expressions of gratitude.

Afterthought 1:  There was a special added poignancy to the evening with the visit of Lucy Newlyn, whose poems were so evocatively moving regarding her childhood upbringing in Headingley/Meanwood, and who was visiting for the first time the reconstructed Bennett Road School where she had attended as a child.

Afterthought 2: While my stated preference for expressions of appreciation by clapping to be at the end of each section or individual reading, rather than after each poem, was particular appreciated by some of the poets, there was a different view expressed by others, especially by some of the audience enthused by the energetic and thought provoking and gifted presentations by the Lawnswood school poetry slam winners. I think there are different ways of responding to different kinds of poetry and styles of presentation that evoke differing kinds of audience engagement and hence response. However, I accept that it might have been better to have allowed the audience responses to evolve naturally and to emerge as appropriate in response to such different genres and to the different cultures of performance, on the one hand, and of a more literary presentation on the other.  So I hold up my hand on that one.

    

Richard Wilcocks adds:

Lucy Newlyn, who is Professor of English Language and Literature, CUF Lecturer and Tutorial Fellow in the Faculty of English at the University of Oxford, wondered whether she had ever been taught in the room which is now the café in the HEART Centre, and which was once part of Bennett Road School, at which she had been a pupil. She had moved on to become a pupil at Lawnswood School in the days when it was still in the old buildings, now demolished, and was anxious to greet two present-day pupils - Fatima El Jack and Jasmine Joseph - who must have felt a little overwhelmed at the idea of so much creative talent originating in Headingley, with themselves as the current representatives of it.

Overwhelmed or not, they were brave and confident next to the high-flown guest poets: Jasmine delivered her lighthearted Potty Park and Fatima her Motherland (all learned by heart) effectively, receiving much applause and a few whoops as well. 

Below, Doug Sandle, Jasmine and Fatima, David Tait, Lucy Newlyn, Paul Adrian:

The Origins of Yorkshire Dialects

Sheila Chapman writes:

Does ‘brussen’ mean bursting with food or bursting with self importance /pride?

It depends on where you live - in this case in Leeds or Bradford.

This word, based on old German for bursting, was the first of many examples used by Dr Barrie M Rhodes of the Yorkshire Dialect Society to illustrate his talk on the origins of Yorkshire dialects.

Barrie grew up speaking a Yorkshire dialect and never more so than when he went to live with his grandmother during the war because she, as he said, ‘did not speak English’ but West Riding. He compared her words with modern Swedish to show how strongly her dialect was influenced by the Viking invasions of this country. He compared her words,  ‘Laikin room for t’barns’, which was how she described a room where children could play, to ‘lekrum barn’ which means ‘children’s play room’ in Swedish. The similarities are obvious.

Barrie took us through the history of the invasions of this country from the Romans through the Anglo-Saxons and the Vikings to the Normans.  Each conqueror left a mark on the language: the Anglo-Saxon (Germanic) language became the basis for modern day English sweeping away, to a large extent, the previous Brythonic (Romanic) language spoken by the Celts. The later invasions by the Vikings had particular importance for Yorkshire, which was part of the Danegeld, and especially for Yorkshire dialects. So, Yorkshire is divided into ridings (from the Old Norse Thrydings) and many of its place names (49% in the East Riding and 39/40% in West Riding) are of Scandinavian origin.

The main contributors to Yorkshire dialects today are Old English and Old Norse/Old Danish together with a smaller contribution from Old (Norman) French.

Barrie sees the dialects (or languages) of Yorkshire as having as much historical significance as the buildings but he also regards dialect (and language generally) as a living thing which constantly changes and evolves – he does not wish to freeze it in time. He rails against ‘the tyranny of the standard’ which he maintains is only another dialect of English and says that the speakers of other dialects in this country should never regard their language as less valid than the standard.

Barrie is passionate about his subject and he put this across to the, nearly fifty strong, audience. As one of them commented, ‘Great evening – good theme (lingo) passionately & clearly expounded’.

Below, Dr Barrie M Rhodes:

Iberian Evening in Café Lento

Sally Bavage writes:

The fourth partnership event with this lively and popular local café was, once again, a storming success.  It was packed out, with latecomers having to press their noses against the glass from the outside, watching proprietor Richard Lindley as he compered a delightful mix of tapas, wine, poetry and music. Portuguese songstress Mila Dores was incomparable!

Eyes closed,  you were in a Spanish bar, with the perfume of warm chorizo in your nostrils and the plaintive tones of Mila in your ears.  She was accompanied by talented musicians Neil Innes on guitar and Richard Ormerod (playing for the LitFest again on Saturday evening, 17 March, at Scriptophilia in the Heart centre) on percussion and flute.  We were treated to a selection of songs in English, Spanish and Portuguese that covered the usual themes of love, loss and death. The Girl from Ipanema was written first in Portuguese in 1962, and Mila’s cover version was a knockout.  One number, sung in the ‘fado’ style of unaccompanied voice, left us emotionally wrenched as it lamented the fishermen and explorers who left Portugal, never to return.

Poetry by Federico García Lorca, perhaps the greatest Spanish poet of the twentieth century, who was murdered by General Franco's fascists at the start of the Civil War in 1936, was presented in Spanish by José González and in English by Richard Wilcocks.  His portrait was in a frame on the counter. There was blood and tears, loyalty and love, loss and death, and also passion and meaning whichever the language, the words flowing round us in a narrative stream. The first poem was Romance sonámbulo (Dreamwalker Ballad) from Romancero gitano, which begins 'Verde que te quiero verde.' ('Green how I want you green.') 


Richard Lindley also read us a trio of shorter poems: The Guitar (La guitarra) plays well to the audience, The Shout (El grito) is short and loud and Seville (Sevilla) takes us to the heart of the hot south of Spain.

It is fascinating to hear the same poem read to a  hushed audience, first in the gentle sweeps of English rhythm and then in José’s more staccato Andalucian tones.  One poem, two languages, two rhythms, one idea.

At times the audience was swaying, not with the effects of the wicked sangría mixed by our resident expert but in time to the mellifluous voice and music washing over us. Fingers and toes tapped compulsively to some of the faster beats.  Not Tourettes but just darn good music! 

Altogether, an extraordinary evening. Just how do you spell ‘whoop’ and ‘holler’ in Portuguese?

Lebanese Evening in Mint Café

Richard Wilcocks writes:

According to the cybernetics experts who collect data on poets, hopefully not because they suspect that they have the potential to become the acknowledged legislators of the world, Khalil Gibran is in the top three of the ranks, regularly read, recited and sung by millions, mainly in the original Arabic. Shakespeare and Lao Tzu stand on the podium with him. Marcos, the owner of Mint Café on North Lane, decided with myself that his poetry should be included in a Lebanese Evening, because the mystic and philosopher Gibran, like Marcos, was born in Lebanon – in the late nineteenth century in Bsharri, a predominantly Maronite Catholic area in the north. In 1895 he went to live in New York. Marcos delivered a summary of his life at the beginning of the evening.

While we were preparing, we both noticed that current translations into English which are available (identical on most websites) are in need of improvement. Some of them are wince-inducing, from an English native-speaker’s angle, and Marcos, the real linguistic expert, pointed out what he saw as mistranslations and infidelities. We sat down and wrestled with the relatively short A Tear and a Smile to produce our own version, which Marcos read during the evening in Arabic and I read in English. It was clear that some things could probably never be conveyed except in the original – no surprise there.

Audience-members packed into Mint, which has two upstairs rooms the size of the sitting rooms in an average flat and a downstairs trove of retro clothes on hangers, were obviously enjoying themselves, judging from their responses. They loved the authentically Lebanese food, all made on the premises, returning over and over again to the front counter to pick up more stuffed vine leaves or to spoon hummus on to flatbreads.

They loved the belly dancer as well, the lithe genuine article Natalie, clapping rhythmically as she performed to Lebanese dance music, beginning in the doorway between the two rooms, then shimmying from one to the other. Her explanation of her moves and on how she got into belly dancing was well received.

After a number by one of Lebanon’s most popular singers, Najwa Karam, Marcos spoke about another immensely popular recent poet who wrote in Arabic – Mahmoud Darwish, who died in 2008 and who is known as Palestine’s National Poet. His deeply emotional poem My Mother (Ummi) was read in Arabic and English, and also heard in a song version.

Short poems by Gibran followed, and the evening finished. “All poetry readings should be like this – on a programme along with music and dancing,” someone commented as we left.

“There’s more in the future. You wait and see,” replied Marcos.

Below, Marcos clapping, Natalie dancing, me reading -