Thursday 25 March 2010
Kettle and Bennett
I have just noticed a Guardian piece by Martin Kettle (see previous post on the Kettle connection) who writes about how he 'knows' Alan Bennett through a shared Headingley upbringing. He used to walk up to 'the grammar school' (now Lawnswood) every morning as well and mentions a sadistic PE teacher with the surname King that they both knew about. It is in the context of last year's Hay Festival: that's the one in marquees with celebrity chefs.
Wednesday 24 March 2010
Three times good
Sunday afternoon was just right: words, music, memories and warm sunshine. Three LitFest events took place in houses with capacious front rooms, all of them completely different, under the heading Pieces for Places.
The first was at the new Spafford abode. Three new authors - Jo Brandon, Connor Whelan and Katie Godman - pictured below in that order - bravely stood to read their pieces, introduced by Peter Spafford. All of them are connected with The Cadaverine, an Arts Council funded ezine which brings new authors (under the age of twenty-five) together with an emerging readership. It features interviews with leading authors and regular reviews. This is the official description:
From urban gothic to high modernism, cyberpunk to scathing satire, science fiction to fictitious cookery, Cadaverine is a comprehensive and uncompromising introduction to the new voices of English Literature.
Katie Godman kicked off with extracts from her novel in progress, which is set in Bristol, introducing us to some of its characters and scenes, which included one involving newly arrived slaves, still in chains. She was followed by Jo Brandon, who is the managing editor of The Cadaverine. She read a series of poems stimulated by memories of her vacation job at Balmoral. I would fish out The Linen Cupboard as one which I found particularly memorable. Connor Whelan recited W.B.Yeats's The Lake Isle of Innisfree before getting to his own poems, the best of which was inspired by the loaves which are still available at the legendary Murton Bakery in Cardigan Road. He is the editor of The Scribe, a creative writing mag produced in Leeds University Union. Poetry and Audience, I was reminded, is the product of students in the School of English. I couldn't help thinking of the reading by the veterans in the Brotherton last Thursday. Then and now eh?
So refreshing and enlivening, this session! Young blood! All three were recorded by Peter Spafford for ELFM, so you can listen to the podcast.
Very soon, there is going to be an original writing link for selected items which were first heard during the Headingley Litfest. It will be up on the right.
The second piece for a place, or if you like, piece of a place, was at Maggie Mash's, and it was entitled No Place Like Home. It was a full programme of poetry, drama and song, complete with a versatile pianist (the excellent John Holt) and a line-up of accomplished performers. It was polished, professional, and superbly entertaining, with a large audience seated in rows on two sides of the room. It included (and this is taken from a long list) an extract from Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent (about getting away from Iowa), Aubade, written and read by James Nash, The Interlopers, written and read by Linda Marshall, part of Forty Years On, written by one-time Headingley resident Alan Bennett and advice on etiquette dating from 1834. Jazz singer Lynn Thonton gave us a hilarious Plastic Recycling Blues.
This sort of thing just has to catch on. So successful! Perhaps this will lead to some June or July events: if we don't have a barbecue summer like the one we didn't have last year, we could do things inside, if necessary with the windows open. Soirées, even, why not?
Below, Jane Oakshott, Dave Robertson, Richard Rastall, Maggie Mash, Lynn Thornton
The third event at the Jones's, Déja-vu, was not a performance, but an opportunity to hear about two extraordinary periods in the life stories of Gaby and John Jones. In 1971, Gaby and John were driving a car beside Lake Como in Italy, on holiday. Gaby knew she had lived somewhere around there when she was three years old in 1938. She said,"Stop the car!" somewhere on the road between Como and Bellagio and then walked up to a villa which she recognised. The door opened, and the elderly lady who answered it told her that this was the Villa Cocini, where Gaby had spent her early childhood. At first, she did not recall much, even though she had lived there since the thirties, because many families had come there on holiday, even during the war. Then she was told the name of Gaby's family - Wulff. She flew at Gaby to embrace her. She had last seen her as a tiny girl.
There followed a tour of the garden, the terraces of which descend to the lake, where there is a view of the renowned Hotel d'Este on the opposite side. Gaby recognised the view, the paths and the little patio where she had been given breakfast al fresco many years previously - and she felt a kind of shudder when she walked up one of the paths, just before a turn to the right. A little further on was a dark grotto with water dripping from its roof. A Blessed Virgin, stars circling her head, was contemplating the distant mountains, enough to induce shudders in a three year-old.
Gaby went on to explain how her father, who worked for an American firm, had transferred to the Milan office from Berlin in 1933, not a bad idea if you were Jewish. In 1938, the family came to England at a time when the German Nazis were putting the tighteners on the Italian Fascists, getting them to step up the racial discrimination. She ended up in Argentina. A slide show followed, showing a selection of photos from a family album. It ended with a postcard with a photo and a message in German inviting people to a birthday party in Buenos Aires. One of the selection is below - Gaby at breakfast in 1938.
John introduced one of the audio tapes he had made about ten years ago when he was recording his autobiography. His voice, sprightlier than nowadays, was heard telling the story of his posting to Knokke in Belgium. He had arrived with the Royal Engineers in 1944 during the last phase of World War Two, and the Germans had not long left. There were macabre scenes: in the damaged streets, the skeletons of horses had not yet been cleared away. Local people had cut off the meat when it was fresh, from the animals the Germans used to pull heavy items, and which they did not film, preferring staged shots of strapping young Aryans atop modern panzers. He remembered the small hotel with inadequate lavatories which was used to cram in as many squaddies as possible and a Café des Artistes, which had walls covered with drawings and paintings. He traded one of his own drawings for beer.
One of his strongest memories was of the events which followed the 'White Parade', when local citizens who had been in various camps and prisons in Germany returned, to walk to the centre of town, reunited with friends and family. As they walked, people broke away to paint black swastikas on certain houses. After the ceremony, many returned to the daubed houses, broke in and systematically smashed everything from window frames to beds. Debris and belongings were thrown on to bonfires in gardens. These were the houses of collaborators, or people said to be collaborators. But, said John on the tape, known collaborators, mostly male, had already been arrested and imprisoned, so the houses were occupied by wives and children. These were hounded, but the troops were forbidden to interfere in domestic affairs. Nevertheless, a sergeant major had at one point barked at a disorderly crowd, telling them to clear off and go home, which is what it did.
John had returned to Knokke a couple of times. No hotel, no Café des Artistes. A new statue. A housing estate. The usual seaside stuff. Ice cream. A large casino with an exhibition of work by Raoul Dufy, the French Fauvist painter.
The first was at the new Spafford abode. Three new authors - Jo Brandon, Connor Whelan and Katie Godman - pictured below in that order - bravely stood to read their pieces, introduced by Peter Spafford. All of them are connected with The Cadaverine, an Arts Council funded ezine which brings new authors (under the age of twenty-five) together with an emerging readership. It features interviews with leading authors and regular reviews. This is the official description:
From urban gothic to high modernism, cyberpunk to scathing satire, science fiction to fictitious cookery, Cadaverine is a comprehensive and uncompromising introduction to the new voices of English Literature.
Katie Godman kicked off with extracts from her novel in progress, which is set in Bristol, introducing us to some of its characters and scenes, which included one involving newly arrived slaves, still in chains. She was followed by Jo Brandon, who is the managing editor of The Cadaverine. She read a series of poems stimulated by memories of her vacation job at Balmoral. I would fish out The Linen Cupboard as one which I found particularly memorable. Connor Whelan recited W.B.Yeats's The Lake Isle of Innisfree before getting to his own poems, the best of which was inspired by the loaves which are still available at the legendary Murton Bakery in Cardigan Road. He is the editor of The Scribe, a creative writing mag produced in Leeds University Union. Poetry and Audience, I was reminded, is the product of students in the School of English. I couldn't help thinking of the reading by the veterans in the Brotherton last Thursday. Then and now eh?
So refreshing and enlivening, this session! Young blood! All three were recorded by Peter Spafford for ELFM, so you can listen to the podcast.
Very soon, there is going to be an original writing link for selected items which were first heard during the Headingley Litfest. It will be up on the right.
The second piece for a place, or if you like, piece of a place, was at Maggie Mash's, and it was entitled No Place Like Home. It was a full programme of poetry, drama and song, complete with a versatile pianist (the excellent John Holt) and a line-up of accomplished performers. It was polished, professional, and superbly entertaining, with a large audience seated in rows on two sides of the room. It included (and this is taken from a long list) an extract from Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent (about getting away from Iowa), Aubade, written and read by James Nash, The Interlopers, written and read by Linda Marshall, part of Forty Years On, written by one-time Headingley resident Alan Bennett and advice on etiquette dating from 1834. Jazz singer Lynn Thonton gave us a hilarious Plastic Recycling Blues.
This sort of thing just has to catch on. So successful! Perhaps this will lead to some June or July events: if we don't have a barbecue summer like the one we didn't have last year, we could do things inside, if necessary with the windows open. Soirées, even, why not?
Below, Jane Oakshott, Dave Robertson, Richard Rastall, Maggie Mash, Lynn Thornton
The third event at the Jones's, Déja-vu, was not a performance, but an opportunity to hear about two extraordinary periods in the life stories of Gaby and John Jones. In 1971, Gaby and John were driving a car beside Lake Como in Italy, on holiday. Gaby knew she had lived somewhere around there when she was three years old in 1938. She said,"Stop the car!" somewhere on the road between Como and Bellagio and then walked up to a villa which she recognised. The door opened, and the elderly lady who answered it told her that this was the Villa Cocini, where Gaby had spent her early childhood. At first, she did not recall much, even though she had lived there since the thirties, because many families had come there on holiday, even during the war. Then she was told the name of Gaby's family - Wulff. She flew at Gaby to embrace her. She had last seen her as a tiny girl.
There followed a tour of the garden, the terraces of which descend to the lake, where there is a view of the renowned Hotel d'Este on the opposite side. Gaby recognised the view, the paths and the little patio where she had been given breakfast al fresco many years previously - and she felt a kind of shudder when she walked up one of the paths, just before a turn to the right. A little further on was a dark grotto with water dripping from its roof. A Blessed Virgin, stars circling her head, was contemplating the distant mountains, enough to induce shudders in a three year-old.
Gaby went on to explain how her father, who worked for an American firm, had transferred to the Milan office from Berlin in 1933, not a bad idea if you were Jewish. In 1938, the family came to England at a time when the German Nazis were putting the tighteners on the Italian Fascists, getting them to step up the racial discrimination. She ended up in Argentina. A slide show followed, showing a selection of photos from a family album. It ended with a postcard with a photo and a message in German inviting people to a birthday party in Buenos Aires. One of the selection is below - Gaby at breakfast in 1938.
John introduced one of the audio tapes he had made about ten years ago when he was recording his autobiography. His voice, sprightlier than nowadays, was heard telling the story of his posting to Knokke in Belgium. He had arrived with the Royal Engineers in 1944 during the last phase of World War Two, and the Germans had not long left. There were macabre scenes: in the damaged streets, the skeletons of horses had not yet been cleared away. Local people had cut off the meat when it was fresh, from the animals the Germans used to pull heavy items, and which they did not film, preferring staged shots of strapping young Aryans atop modern panzers. He remembered the small hotel with inadequate lavatories which was used to cram in as many squaddies as possible and a Café des Artistes, which had walls covered with drawings and paintings. He traded one of his own drawings for beer.
One of his strongest memories was of the events which followed the 'White Parade', when local citizens who had been in various camps and prisons in Germany returned, to walk to the centre of town, reunited with friends and family. As they walked, people broke away to paint black swastikas on certain houses. After the ceremony, many returned to the daubed houses, broke in and systematically smashed everything from window frames to beds. Debris and belongings were thrown on to bonfires in gardens. These were the houses of collaborators, or people said to be collaborators. But, said John on the tape, known collaborators, mostly male, had already been arrested and imprisoned, so the houses were occupied by wives and children. These were hounded, but the troops were forbidden to interfere in domestic affairs. Nevertheless, a sergeant major had at one point barked at a disorderly crowd, telling them to clear off and go home, which is what it did.
John had returned to Knokke a couple of times. No hotel, no Café des Artistes. A new statue. A housing estate. The usual seaside stuff. Ice cream. A large casino with an exhibition of work by Raoul Dufy, the French Fauvist painter.
Tuesday 23 March 2010
Listen!
It's going to be community radio at its best!
This coming Saturday, the brightly-coloured caravan of East Leeds FM will be parked outside St Michael's Church near the war memorial in the centre of Headingley. You will find it difficult to miss. It will be there from about 10am, and the fun will start at 10.30am, when the podcasts begin. This is GMT we're talking about - so if you are in somewhere like New Zealand and reading this (and I know you're there...) you will have to adjust your body clock before you tune in - on the internet. Your normal radios and crystal sets will, of course, not be required. Incidentally, best of luck to Save Radio New Zealand!
Broadcasting lasts for two hours. If you are anywhere near the caravan, try to make a contribution which is relevant to the current LitFest goings-on. Tap on the driver's side and say who you are.
Peter Spafford, who works for ELFM, will be there. The children he has been working with recently in Shire Oak and Spring Bank Primary schools will probably not be there in the flesh, but you will be able to listen to them, pre-recorded. Most of it will be live, though - so get ready to listen:
Go to www.elfm.co.uk
Monday 22 March 2010
Linda Marshall's Half-Moon Glasses
Richard Wilcocks writes:
"Linda Marshall's poems whether funny or sad, have the cathartic, uplifting effect that stems from genuine truth to feelings we share with her." Thus speaks K. E. Smith (who was once the editor of the long-established Yorkshire poetry magazine Pennine Platform) on the back cover of Linda Marshall's new collection Half-Moon Glasses. At the launch, held on Saturday evening in the long wedge of space driven into the Edwardian housing in Midland Road known as The Flux Gallery, the audience was well and truly uplifted. It was difficult to move sideways anyway, people were that close. It was a tricky operation just to get inside the door, and necessary to breathe carefully, because Linda's beautifully distinctive voice had to be heard.
In the introduction to the collection (ISBN 978-0-9560688-3-5), which is printed by Flux Gallery Press and nicely illustrated by its owner Dan Lyons, K.E. writes about the fact that Linda is a "rare thing"...."a genuinely modern poet who is also a real page turner."
Here's one I like from the collection. I heard her read it in the Café Lento a few half moons ago:
SHIPWRECKED AT JAZZPOINT
The music ripped through me, orange and purple,
leaving tattered shreds of soul; sweet aromas
of dark chocolate and vanilla filled the hazy air,
as I sipped the snowiness, topping a cappuccino,
those syncopated rhythms bashing a brassy vibrancy
into me. I was lolling in the corner of my chair,
opposite you, my melancholic friend, both of us
haunted by nostalgia, too many years behind us,
making us sick for each passing moment - how I yearn
for those long, lazy conversations we had in
bars and cafés, "no strings attached," you would say,
only the music and a shared loneliness melding us,
we became the blazing bursts of percussion, the huge
electric bubbles of jazz that dissolves into dizziness.
As long as our fluted coffee cups are steaming,
as long as that band of music men are cooking up
their breezy blues, we are marooned, you and I,
on a desert island of steel and leather with no hope
of rescue, yet with hope in our wrecked heads.
Below, pics from the launch:
"Linda Marshall's poems whether funny or sad, have the cathartic, uplifting effect that stems from genuine truth to feelings we share with her." Thus speaks K. E. Smith (who was once the editor of the long-established Yorkshire poetry magazine Pennine Platform) on the back cover of Linda Marshall's new collection Half-Moon Glasses. At the launch, held on Saturday evening in the long wedge of space driven into the Edwardian housing in Midland Road known as The Flux Gallery, the audience was well and truly uplifted. It was difficult to move sideways anyway, people were that close. It was a tricky operation just to get inside the door, and necessary to breathe carefully, because Linda's beautifully distinctive voice had to be heard.
In the introduction to the collection (ISBN 978-0-9560688-3-5), which is printed by Flux Gallery Press and nicely illustrated by its owner Dan Lyons, K.E. writes about the fact that Linda is a "rare thing"...."a genuinely modern poet who is also a real page turner."
Here's one I like from the collection. I heard her read it in the Café Lento a few half moons ago:
SHIPWRECKED AT JAZZPOINT
The music ripped through me, orange and purple,
leaving tattered shreds of soul; sweet aromas
of dark chocolate and vanilla filled the hazy air,
as I sipped the snowiness, topping a cappuccino,
those syncopated rhythms bashing a brassy vibrancy
into me. I was lolling in the corner of my chair,
opposite you, my melancholic friend, both of us
haunted by nostalgia, too many years behind us,
making us sick for each passing moment - how I yearn
for those long, lazy conversations we had in
bars and cafés, "no strings attached," you would say,
only the music and a shared loneliness melding us,
we became the blazing bursts of percussion, the huge
electric bubbles of jazz that dissolves into dizziness.
As long as our fluted coffee cups are steaming,
as long as that band of music men are cooking up
their breezy blues, we are marooned, you and I,
on a desert island of steel and leather with no hope
of rescue, yet with hope in our wrecked heads.
Below, pics from the launch:
Martin Wainwright, we loved you
Richard Wilcocks writes:
Martin Wainwright from the Guardian is a great authority on you-name-it when it comes to Headingley, Leeds and northern parts. A childhood which included a spell in God's Own Suburb, and sentences like "We walked up Weetwood Lane and through the Hollies", full of local references, pumped up his credibility no end. He knew so many anecdotes. What was the one with the Hollies in it again? Oh yes - ages ago, the Yorkshire Evening Post had a feature entitled 'Citizen of the Month'. One of the winners of the accolade was a woman who finally plucked up the courage to put a blanket around the harmless, goosepimpled man who used to walk through the Hollies completely naked. She led him to Weetwood Police Station wearing a blanket she had provided.
In the Yorkshire College of Music and Drama on Saturday afternoon, we were agog. We laughed a lot too.
Then there were the stories about Arthur Ransome, who had the good fortune to be born in Headingley, and who was probably a double agent during and after 1917. He had married Evgenia Petrovna Shelepina, who when he met her in Moscow was Trotsky's mistress. This was "a shewd move for a journalist covering the Russian Revolution." Arthur Ransome, we were told, was taught to ice skate by none other than Prince Kropotkin, the anarchist nobleman.
There were plenty of present-day stories as well, like the enterprising specialist textile company in Yorkshire which makes Armani suits - the real thing - and which was fed up with all the fakes around: they found a way of putting DNA into the weave, so that their product is now very identifiable.
The burden of his talk was the way the north is stereotyped by southerners. His True North - In praise of England's better half (ISBN 978-0-85265-113-1) was on sale, but not for long, because all copies were soon snapped up. He spoke about the problems of relocating staff, imbued with clichéd views, and the way that visual images of the north tend to drift into a certain category - you know, abandoned mills, chip wrappers floating in the gutter, eternal winter, black and white. Either that or snotty-nosed kids in cobbled streets, clothes lines strung across them and so on. "I have to convince some of my colleagues in London," he said. "When April comes, we have trees which burst into leaf!"
"We need talking up!" he stressed. He did plenty of talking up - to the converted. We should follow the French example. On autoroutes there are little lay-by affairs with picnic tables, where you can look at beautiful landscapes while you bite into your tartine. "We have plenty of places like that in Yorkshire."
He finished with an attack on "tenacious misconceptions of Bradford" and the people with a negative image of immigration. "We would be much less of a place without it. To be an immigrant you've got to have extra energy."
And amongst his recommended very special places - Gargrave and Whitehaven.
Below, pics by Geoff Steedman:
Below, pics by Richard Wilcocks:
Martin Wainwright from the Guardian is a great authority on you-name-it when it comes to Headingley, Leeds and northern parts. A childhood which included a spell in God's Own Suburb, and sentences like "We walked up Weetwood Lane and through the Hollies", full of local references, pumped up his credibility no end. He knew so many anecdotes. What was the one with the Hollies in it again? Oh yes - ages ago, the Yorkshire Evening Post had a feature entitled 'Citizen of the Month'. One of the winners of the accolade was a woman who finally plucked up the courage to put a blanket around the harmless, goosepimpled man who used to walk through the Hollies completely naked. She led him to Weetwood Police Station wearing a blanket she had provided.
In the Yorkshire College of Music and Drama on Saturday afternoon, we were agog. We laughed a lot too.
Then there were the stories about Arthur Ransome, who had the good fortune to be born in Headingley, and who was probably a double agent during and after 1917. He had married Evgenia Petrovna Shelepina, who when he met her in Moscow was Trotsky's mistress. This was "a shewd move for a journalist covering the Russian Revolution." Arthur Ransome, we were told, was taught to ice skate by none other than Prince Kropotkin, the anarchist nobleman.
There were plenty of present-day stories as well, like the enterprising specialist textile company in Yorkshire which makes Armani suits - the real thing - and which was fed up with all the fakes around: they found a way of putting DNA into the weave, so that their product is now very identifiable.
The burden of his talk was the way the north is stereotyped by southerners. His True North - In praise of England's better half (ISBN 978-0-85265-113-1) was on sale, but not for long, because all copies were soon snapped up. He spoke about the problems of relocating staff, imbued with clichéd views, and the way that visual images of the north tend to drift into a certain category - you know, abandoned mills, chip wrappers floating in the gutter, eternal winter, black and white. Either that or snotty-nosed kids in cobbled streets, clothes lines strung across them and so on. "I have to convince some of my colleagues in London," he said. "When April comes, we have trees which burst into leaf!"
"We need talking up!" he stressed. He did plenty of talking up - to the converted. We should follow the French example. On autoroutes there are little lay-by affairs with picnic tables, where you can look at beautiful landscapes while you bite into your tartine. "We have plenty of places like that in Yorkshire."
He finished with an attack on "tenacious misconceptions of Bradford" and the people with a negative image of immigration. "We would be much less of a place without it. To be an immigrant you've got to have extra energy."
And amongst his recommended very special places - Gargrave and Whitehaven.
Below, pics by Geoff Steedman:
Below, pics by Richard Wilcocks:
Officially launched
It was the first major gathering of the LitFest clan at the New Headingley Club, and the emphasis was on poetry, under the amiable eye of compere James Nash, who not only read his own work, but introduced three other main readers - Liz Bertola, Helen Burke and Richard Raftery. In the previous two LitFests, James has been subterranean, performing and compering in the cellar of the Dare Café, and has now emerged into the upper air. He is revealing himself more and more as a master of the sonnet. The audience was most appreciative.
By the door, tombola prizes were displayed - and plenty of scented candles were won, but not the whisky, which will be raffled at the end of the LitFest on a suitable occasion. A huge new screen at the end of the room showed Lawnswood students dancing and reciting at last year's Poetry Slam. There was a sort of long pause before they came up at the end of the evening because the DVD was playing up. Thanks to Mary Francis for sorting the problem.
By the door, tombola prizes were displayed - and plenty of scented candles were won, but not the whisky, which will be raffled at the end of the LitFest on a suitable occasion. A huge new screen at the end of the room showed Lawnswood students dancing and reciting at last year's Poetry Slam. There was a sort of long pause before they came up at the end of the evening because the DVD was playing up. Thanks to Mary Francis for sorting the problem.
Friday 19 March 2010
Glimpses of our past
The meeting room was, what's the word.......august......that's it. Appropriate for the occasion. Lots of oak. It was filled with appreciative people as well, there for Poetry at the Brotherton. I had no idea the room was there when I was a student at Leeds University: the Brotherton was mainly for revision before Finals, directly under the pantheonic dome. Well, here we all were, survivors.
The readings began at 8.30pm after an informative introduction from Chris Sheppard from Special Collections, in which he told us about the illustrious line of Gregory Fellows and the benign influence of Professor Bonamy Dobrée. Most of the names mentioned were from before my time at the university (I first came across Bonamy Dobrée's name on my reading list - Restoration Comedy, I believe) and I looked at my fellow readers - Jon Glover, Doug Sandle and Jeff Wainwright - with a certain measure of smugness, because I was the youngest amongst them. Not often I can say that nowadays.
Congratulations to Doug for doing most of the organising for this successful event - and also to Kathryn Jenner, the guardian lioness of Special Collections.
I read a selection of poems by Geoffrey Hill (English Department staff 1954 - 1981), who was my tutor in 1967 - 1968, beginning at the beginning with Genesis and finishing with Tristia: 1891-1938, A Valediction to Osip Mandelstam. I had to edit out so much from the initial list: I would have loved to have said more about poor Mandelstam, for example, who was killed by Stalin, who had himself been published as a (Georgian nationalist) poet in his early years just after he left the seminary. I had plans at one stage to sing something by John Dowland as well.
Doug Sandle produced more laughter than me, first with his selection of poems by William Price Turner (Gregory Fellow 1960 - 1962) whose University Vignettes were hilarious, then with a selection of poems by Martin Bell and himself. I felt strongly for Bell in his From the City of Dreadful Something, and particularly remember Doug's poem The Stone Gatherer, which is dedicated to Ken Smith and his son on their first visit to the Isle of Man. Doug tells me that pruning back the first list of choices was difficult, but we couldn't have gone on until midnight.
Jon Glover remembered a sit-in which I had mentioned earlier, which took place in the Parkinson Court in 1968 to protest against the university security men, who had been taking the names of students holding up placards with various messages about the Vietnam War, but his main memory was of the extraordinary Jon Silkin (Gregory Fellow 1958) who had founded Stand magazine in 1952, and whose early career had embraced teaching English as a Foreign Language and gravedigging. Jon Glover is the current editor, and copies of the latest issue were on sale at the event. He read The Coldness, by Silkin, which is about the pogrom against the Jews of York in 1190 - a poem I remember from many years ago. Poems by Glover included the excellent CERN: Frontiers, Grave-Diggers.
Jeff Wainwright (student 1962 - 1967) reminisced as well, and spoke of Geoffrey Hill, about whom he has written seminal essays. He mentioned his great attention to detail - every word matters, none of them are for the wind, proofreading is inevitably important - and the fact that he was a good and sympathetic tutor to most, leaving his mark on many. I agree. He read a series of short poems by himself, and also by Ken Smith, a poet I had previously (misleadingly) characterised in my mind as 'non-difficult'. Jeff had driven up from Manchester to be with us.
Below - Jeff Wainwright and Jon Glover.
The readings began at 8.30pm after an informative introduction from Chris Sheppard from Special Collections, in which he told us about the illustrious line of Gregory Fellows and the benign influence of Professor Bonamy Dobrée. Most of the names mentioned were from before my time at the university (I first came across Bonamy Dobrée's name on my reading list - Restoration Comedy, I believe) and I looked at my fellow readers - Jon Glover, Doug Sandle and Jeff Wainwright - with a certain measure of smugness, because I was the youngest amongst them. Not often I can say that nowadays.
Congratulations to Doug for doing most of the organising for this successful event - and also to Kathryn Jenner, the guardian lioness of Special Collections.
I read a selection of poems by Geoffrey Hill (English Department staff 1954 - 1981), who was my tutor in 1967 - 1968, beginning at the beginning with Genesis and finishing with Tristia: 1891-1938, A Valediction to Osip Mandelstam. I had to edit out so much from the initial list: I would have loved to have said more about poor Mandelstam, for example, who was killed by Stalin, who had himself been published as a (Georgian nationalist) poet in his early years just after he left the seminary. I had plans at one stage to sing something by John Dowland as well.
Doug Sandle produced more laughter than me, first with his selection of poems by William Price Turner (Gregory Fellow 1960 - 1962) whose University Vignettes were hilarious, then with a selection of poems by Martin Bell and himself. I felt strongly for Bell in his From the City of Dreadful Something, and particularly remember Doug's poem The Stone Gatherer, which is dedicated to Ken Smith and his son on their first visit to the Isle of Man. Doug tells me that pruning back the first list of choices was difficult, but we couldn't have gone on until midnight.
Jon Glover remembered a sit-in which I had mentioned earlier, which took place in the Parkinson Court in 1968 to protest against the university security men, who had been taking the names of students holding up placards with various messages about the Vietnam War, but his main memory was of the extraordinary Jon Silkin (Gregory Fellow 1958) who had founded Stand magazine in 1952, and whose early career had embraced teaching English as a Foreign Language and gravedigging. Jon Glover is the current editor, and copies of the latest issue were on sale at the event. He read The Coldness, by Silkin, which is about the pogrom against the Jews of York in 1190 - a poem I remember from many years ago. Poems by Glover included the excellent CERN: Frontiers, Grave-Diggers.
Jeff Wainwright (student 1962 - 1967) reminisced as well, and spoke of Geoffrey Hill, about whom he has written seminal essays. He mentioned his great attention to detail - every word matters, none of them are for the wind, proofreading is inevitably important - and the fact that he was a good and sympathetic tutor to most, leaving his mark on many. I agree. He read a series of short poems by himself, and also by Ken Smith, a poet I had previously (misleadingly) characterised in my mind as 'non-difficult'. Jeff had driven up from Manchester to be with us.
Below - Jeff Wainwright and Jon Glover.
Strange goings-on at Lento
It's a good job there were extra chairs in the Café Lento on Wednesday evening: if anybody else had turned up, they would have had to swing from the chandeliers, which would have been challenging, because there aren't any. It was St Patrick's night, and groups of revellers were walking past the big window during the short story readings wearing those high and hideous I-am-a-little-leprechaun hats with Guinness badges on them, proving that the wearers were not of Irish heritage. They might have been Polish. They like revelling. The first story was set in Ireland. It was by Roddy Doyle, had a Polish protagonist named Halina who was in charge of a pram containing babies, and was read by the man with the coffee machine - Richard Lindley. One item in it was a pretty horrific story with a supernatural tinge, which set the tone for the evening.
Because by coincidence, all the stories that followed had a supernatural tinge - Moira Garland's included a lady from Victorian times, Doug Sandle's was about strange goings on during his childhood on the Isle of Man, mine was entitled I Invented a Ghost and Peter Spafford's was about the otherworldly laughter his mother used to hear.
The audience, according to what was said afterwards, loved everything. They asked us for more soon. Perhaps we'll convene again in the summer.
Because by coincidence, all the stories that followed had a supernatural tinge - Moira Garland's included a lady from Victorian times, Doug Sandle's was about strange goings on during his childhood on the Isle of Man, mine was entitled I Invented a Ghost and Peter Spafford's was about the otherworldly laughter his mother used to hear.
The audience, according to what was said afterwards, loved everything. They asked us for more soon. Perhaps we'll convene again in the summer.
Tuesday 16 March 2010
Sunday 14 March 2010
Are you around, John Comer?
If you're reading this, John Comer, we - Doug Sandle and myself - would like to know where you are. You are a one-time resident of Headingley, and our attention has just been drawn to your recently-published The Old Time. So are you close enough to come to any LitFest events or to join us for a drink in Arcadia, which is very close to where you once lived in Alma Road?
The Old Time - ISBN 142514298-2 Trafford Publishing
Email us at heveliusx1@yahoo.co.uk
Below, John in the 1960s. Photo taken by Dave Williams in Moorland Avenue, LS6
The Old Time - ISBN 142514298-2 Trafford Publishing
Email us at heveliusx1@yahoo.co.uk
Below, John in the 1960s. Photo taken by Dave Williams in Moorland Avenue, LS6
Saturday 13 March 2010
Sunshine
Yes, sunshine! Today!The sky is as blue as a blackbird's egg, and the warmth is so welcome after the dip in temperature last week. It won't be long before we plant the Kiwi fruit, and it's a sure sign that we'll soon be off to a good start.
Hundreds of people milled around on the lawn in front of the main rose garden at Headingley Farmers' Market this morning, and plenty of them took our programme-leaflet, albeit a little absent-mindedly as they listened to the music which wafted in their direction from the gamelan players. Let's hope they all come to at least one of the events! Tickets are shifting as well, especially for novelist David Peace, normally based in Japan but in Yorkshire at the moment.
Richard Lindley, maître d' at the illustrious Café Lento, revealed today that he will begin the proceedings next Wednesday with a reading of his favourite short story - by Roddy Doyle. As the one-time owner of a historic Norton motorcycle, he has been talking about an event based on the Motorcycle Diaries (Notas de Viaje - Diarios de Motocicleta) of Ernesto 'Che' Guevara , who rode one when he was still a medical student and who has gained Richard's admiration simply for being able to cope with it. Perhaps at some time in the future, some kind of shortened, episodic presentation of the Diaries could be presented along with music from South America, or perhaps a clip from the film directed by Walter Salles could be shown. We shall see. There are several musical groups in West Yorkshire which could fill the bill.
In the picture - sunshine in one of Headingley's forest glades....if you want to find out about Headingley's biodiversity, or its many polytunnels, or future plans, click HERE now.
Hundreds of people milled around on the lawn in front of the main rose garden at Headingley Farmers' Market this morning, and plenty of them took our programme-leaflet, albeit a little absent-mindedly as they listened to the music which wafted in their direction from the gamelan players. Let's hope they all come to at least one of the events! Tickets are shifting as well, especially for novelist David Peace, normally based in Japan but in Yorkshire at the moment.
Richard Lindley, maître d' at the illustrious Café Lento, revealed today that he will begin the proceedings next Wednesday with a reading of his favourite short story - by Roddy Doyle. As the one-time owner of a historic Norton motorcycle, he has been talking about an event based on the Motorcycle Diaries (Notas de Viaje - Diarios de Motocicleta) of Ernesto 'Che' Guevara , who rode one when he was still a medical student and who has gained Richard's admiration simply for being able to cope with it. Perhaps at some time in the future, some kind of shortened, episodic presentation of the Diaries could be presented along with music from South America, or perhaps a clip from the film directed by Walter Salles could be shown. We shall see. There are several musical groups in West Yorkshire which could fill the bill.
In the picture - sunshine in one of Headingley's forest glades....if you want to find out about Headingley's biodiversity, or its many polytunnels, or future plans, click HERE now.
Saturday 27 February 2010
Two more writers who lived in Headingley
Thanks, June, for the information that Arnold Kettle and William Fryer Harvey were once residents of Headingley.
Arnold Kettle (1916 - 86) was a respected Marxist literary critic who was a lecturer in English Literature at the University of Leeds from 1948-1967. After leaving Leeds he became Professor of Literature at the University of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, and then the first Professor of Literature at the Open University.
He produced some influential literary criticism, including The Nineteenth Century Novel, and An Introduction to the English Novel, and was an important contributor to the journal Marxism Today. He was also editor of Shakespeare in a Changing World.
The Kettles lived on Moor road, Headingley. Their son, Martin, amongst other things an outstanding Guardian journalist and commentator, was born in Leeds in 1949 and attended Leeds Modern School.
William Fryer Harvey (1885-1937) was born into an affluent Quaker family. His cheerful upbringing at Spring Bank, Headingley, was described in the memoir We Were Seven.
He was a successful writer of tales in the mystery and horror genres. One of his best known stories, The Beast with Five Fingers, was made into a movie in 1946, starring Peter Lorre, and regenerating interest in his work. So what did he look like? If you know of a photo, please send it to us.
In the meantime, here is a poster for the film:
Arnold Kettle (1916 - 86) was a respected Marxist literary critic who was a lecturer in English Literature at the University of Leeds from 1948-1967. After leaving Leeds he became Professor of Literature at the University of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, and then the first Professor of Literature at the Open University.
He produced some influential literary criticism, including The Nineteenth Century Novel, and An Introduction to the English Novel, and was an important contributor to the journal Marxism Today. He was also editor of Shakespeare in a Changing World.
The Kettles lived on Moor road, Headingley. Their son, Martin, amongst other things an outstanding Guardian journalist and commentator, was born in Leeds in 1949 and attended Leeds Modern School.
Above - Arnold Kettle
William Fryer Harvey (1885-1937) was born into an affluent Quaker family. His cheerful upbringing at Spring Bank, Headingley, was described in the memoir We Were Seven.
He was a successful writer of tales in the mystery and horror genres. One of his best known stories, The Beast with Five Fingers, was made into a movie in 1946, starring Peter Lorre, and regenerating interest in his work. So what did he look like? If you know of a photo, please send it to us.
In the meantime, here is a poster for the film:
Monday 22 February 2010
Chris Mould is wicked!
It doesn't matter that much if you come with or without children - Chris Mould is pure magic. Wickedly Weird as well.
He is at Headingley Library on the last day of the LitFest - 27 March at 1.30pm - and you don't have to pay a penny. He is not just going to talk, but draw as well.
Chris Mould was born in Bradford and has lived and worked there all his life. He began drawing at a very early age and hasn't stopped since. He trained in Art colleges and Polytechnic for six years altogether starting in Dewsbury College and moving to Leeds, during which time he gained a joint honours degree in Graphic Design and Illustration. Since then he has been working as a freelance illustrator. More recently his work has been used in television and in feature film development.
Chris has illustrated several books for Oxford University Press. His latest illustrations are for the Measle series, where Chris really manages to bring the characters to life.
You can find out what you are letting yourself in for by visiting the website. Click HERE to go to it.
He is at Headingley Library on the last day of the LitFest - 27 March at 1.30pm - and you don't have to pay a penny. He is not just going to talk, but draw as well.
Chris Mould was born in Bradford and has lived and worked there all his life. He began drawing at a very early age and hasn't stopped since. He trained in Art colleges and Polytechnic for six years altogether starting in Dewsbury College and moving to Leeds, during which time he gained a joint honours degree in Graphic Design and Illustration. Since then he has been working as a freelance illustrator. More recently his work has been used in television and in feature film development.
Chris has illustrated several books for Oxford University Press. His latest illustrations are for the Measle series, where Chris really manages to bring the characters to life.
Wednesday 17 February 2010
Tolkien on Mastermind
Richard Wilcocks writes:
Thanks for the new email, Karen. I missed that episode of Mastermind on the BBC as well, but now I have found it, and there's plenty on Tolkien. How many people know that he caught Trench Fever in 1916 during the Great War and had to be sent back to England? Saved his life? Without Trench Fever, no Lord of the Rings? What if? The Mastermind episode is HERE. The Tolkien questions are about five minutes in.
Thanks for the new email, Karen. I missed that episode of Mastermind on the BBC as well, but now I have found it, and there's plenty on Tolkien. How many people know that he caught Trench Fever in 1916 during the Great War and had to be sent back to England? Saved his life? Without Trench Fever, no Lord of the Rings? What if? The Mastermind episode is HERE. The Tolkien questions are about five minutes in.
Tuesday 16 February 2010
Tolkien in Headingley
Richard Wilcocks writes:
Contrary to what people keep telling me, and in response to a few email queries, one-time Headingley resident J. R. R. Tolkien did not write The Hobbit in Leeds. Thanks to Karen for your research on Lord of the Rings, as well, while we are on the subject - you had something to do with the filming in New Zealand, so you should know. And incidentally it's good news that The Chocolate Fish is open again in Wellington!
Tolkien was Reader and then Professor of English Language at the University of Leeds from 1920 to 1925. Just before he left to become Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Oxford, he brought out an edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. The second edition of this (with his colleague E.V.Gordon) followed in 1930 and remained influential throughout the twentieth century.
And I have no idea whether or not Tolkien supped pints in Whitelocks. I like to think that he did.
Wednesday 10 February 2010
Whatever happened to Phyllis Bentley?
Phyllis Bentley was not from Headingley but from Halifax, where she spent almost her entire life. Her family was closely involved with a textile industry which has now largely disappeared. When she is remembered at all, it is as the writer of regional novels, and her West Riding was considered, in its day, to be a kind of equivalent of Thomas Hardy’s Wessex. She was highly praised by the likes of Arnold Bennett, Hugh Walpole and that other great literary figure from Yorkshire, J. B. Priestley.
Her novel Inheritance is set in the times of the Luddites, with a mill owner’s son in love with a mill girl, and is a little reminiscent of Charlotte Brontë’s Shirley. It sold very well in the Thirties, and was translated into a number of languages. Bentley was fascinated by the Brontës, and her book on them is something of a classic, still selling steadily and used as a reference. So why has she faded into obscurity, unlike Hardy?
This will be one of the questions addressed in Headingley Library on Tuesday 23 March at 7pm by Dave Russell. The ticket is three pounds – with two pounds for concessions. There are refreshments too.
Click top right for the programme
Tuesday 9 February 2010
Want a programme leaflet?
If you would like to take a few of our just-published programme leaflets, or if you want a digital (pdf) version to pass on to friends on your email network, contact us at the email address on the right of your screen.
Sunday 7 February 2010
Linda's launch
In the mid ’90s she became a member of Pennine Poets, who used to meet at Mabel Ferrett’s house in Heckmondwike. Linda’s work has been included and commented on in the Pennine Poet 40th Anniversary Anthologies.
Recently Linda has taken part in many open mike sessions. Writing for performance, she finds, is an enjoyable challenge, but some of her poems are meant for the page.
She likes to experiment with style and at times she uses rhyme to get her point across. “The writing process can be full of surprises and the possible outcomes are infinite. One bizarre thought can be transformed into a whole new way of looking at things.”
Linda is currently associated with Lucht Focail, a group of Irish writers and poets, and she has run a few creative writing workshops.
Her launch as part of Headingley LitFest will be at the Flux Gallery, Midland Road on Saturday 20 March at 7.30pm
Tuesday 26 January 2010
Sunday 10 January 2010
Sports Writing Competition
Richard Wilcocks writes:
Last March, the Create a Story Sports Writing Competition was a real success, with tall piles of entries, many of a very high standard. Now we are doing it again, but this time attempting to involve more school students: every single high school in the Leeds area has just been sent letters, entry forms and posters to display and to photocopy, and the same materials have been put online.
The competition was born out of discussions between Leeds Rugby Foundation's Arts Steering Group and Headingley LitFest, which took place in 2008 and which have continued ever since. We get on! Headingley should be known for its sporting connections and much, much more.
The competition is open to all students between the ages of eleven and sixteen. Entries must be received at Headingley Stadium by 26 February. The judges will be the same as last year - myself, Glenn Horsman (Leeds Rugby Learning Centre) and sports writer Phil Caplan.
This is from the entry form:
Your story must be about a fictional sporting event, but you can use your own experiences for inspiration! It can be about any sport at any level. It should be no longer than 500 words if you are 12 years old or less (not including the 100 below) and no longer than 1000 words (not including the 100 below) if you are 13 years old or more.
............
Your story must start using the following paragraphs:
It felt strange to be wearing the new colours, strange but exhilarating. He/she had sweated hard to be chosen to wear them, and now it was the big day, the first chance to show all those loyal supporters what he/she was made of. All the eyes would be on him/her.
The chanting was reaching a climax. It was time to begin.
There will be a presentation on the pitch at half time in the Leeds Rhinos v Hull Kingston Rovers match on Friday 19 March at Headingley Stadium. The winning entry (or extracts from it), together with information on the LitFest, will appear in the match programme.
Last March, the Create a Story Sports Writing Competition was a real success, with tall piles of entries, many of a very high standard. Now we are doing it again, but this time attempting to involve more school students: every single high school in the Leeds area has just been sent letters, entry forms and posters to display and to photocopy, and the same materials have been put online.
The competition was born out of discussions between Leeds Rugby Foundation's Arts Steering Group and Headingley LitFest, which took place in 2008 and which have continued ever since. We get on! Headingley should be known for its sporting connections and much, much more.
The competition is open to all students between the ages of eleven and sixteen. Entries must be received at Headingley Stadium by 26 February. The judges will be the same as last year - myself, Glenn Horsman (Leeds Rugby Learning Centre) and sports writer Phil Caplan.
This is from the entry form:
Your story must be about a fictional sporting event, but you can use your own experiences for inspiration! It can be about any sport at any level. It should be no longer than 500 words if you are 12 years old or less (not including the 100 below) and no longer than 1000 words (not including the 100 below) if you are 13 years old or more.
............
Your story must start using the following paragraphs:
It felt strange to be wearing the new colours, strange but exhilarating. He/she had sweated hard to be chosen to wear them, and now it was the big day, the first chance to show all those loyal supporters what he/she was made of. All the eyes would be on him/her.
The chanting was reaching a climax. It was time to begin.
There will be a presentation on the pitch at half time in the Leeds Rhinos v Hull Kingston Rovers match on Friday 19 March at Headingley Stadium. The winning entry (or extracts from it), together with information on the LitFest, will appear in the match programme.
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