It doesn’t seem very long since the last time I wrote, and the week has flashed by again. I decided this week to blog about any interesting reading I do for my PhD for a number of reasons. First of all, it will stop my overwhelming guilt whenever I spend the day reading and have nothing physical to show for it. Secondly, I’m hoping it will help me clarify my own thoughts and opinions about what I’ve read. If you missed it, you can find this post here, and feel free to join in/add your thoughts. I’ve really enjoyed reading responses to the last post, and they’ve given me a lot to think about!
Apart from finishing reading the Vicky Bertram book, and starting to make my slow and painstaking way through some articles that my supervisor recommended for me to read, I’ve been doing a lot of running. I’m up to 21 miles so far this week and today I’m going out on a ten mile run which will be the furthest I’ve ran since coming back from injury.
This week I had a five hour, non-stop meeting with Pauline Yarwood, my co-director at Kendal Poetry Festival. It was non-stop because we forgot to stop to get a drink. We got a bit over-excited with our discussion of possible poets for the festival. We only have room for twelve poets so each one has to be fantastic, in their own inimitable way. WE haven’t quite got our final list yet, but we are getting close. This job is my (and I think Pauline’s as well) favourite bit of the festival. We also spent a lot of time on something a lot more boring – working out our expenses and budget. Not my favourite bit of the festival – but it has to be done!
It was Poem and a Pint last night with the wonderful poet Miriam Nash. I had mistakenly booked myself to do a gig with the Soul Survivors the same night, so I was only able to attend the first half of A Poem and a Pint. I did hear all of Miriam’s first set though and thought she was brilliant. I bought her collection and am looking forward to reading it – there was a strong thread about lighthouses, and lights and the sea and the dark running through the poems I heard her read last night. There were some good open mics as well – Clare Proctor stood out for me, with her poem about penises being kept in jars (it’s a great poem – you had to be there), and also Gill Nicholson, whose first poem exploring grief and the inability of the dead to return (If Jesus could do it, why can’t you?) I think was the first line, made me cry.
Anyway, I listened to the first half open miccers, and then whizzed off to the Soul Survivors gig back in Barrow. I have had a bit of an epiphany with my playing recently. Basically, a couple of months ago I lost my trumpet mouthpiece, which is worth about £90. I’ve had this mouthpiece for a long time, and a teacher advised that I buy this particular make and size probably 13 years ago, because I was doing a lot of classical trumpet playing. In particular, myself and said teacher were performing the Vivaldi double trumpet concerto.
Anyway, I’ve always hated what I call ‘gadgets’ and an over reliance and obsession with different size mouthpieces and fancy bits of kit. I’ve always been of the opinion that if you are a good player, it doesn’t really matter what you play, within reason. How stupid I am! I spent a good three hours researching mouthpieces on the internet, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER (bear in mind I’ve been playing since I was ten). I spent another couple of hours on trumpet forums and lurked about reading responses from it must be said mainly male trumpet players as they discussed in-depth about different sizes of mouthpiece.
I realised that I’ve been playing on a large size mouthpiece to get a big classical sound and actually that might not be ideal for the type of playing I’m doing now (soul band stuff). So I decided to buy a smaller mouthpiece – found a half price one on Ebay and ordered it. Then after having the summer off playing, I’ve spent the last two weeks practising – building up from a five minute splutter as my face tried to remember how to play, to an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening every day, and ta-da! I can suddenly play for higher and longer than I’ve ever managed in my entire playing career.
The gig last night was so much easier – I actually enjoyed it instead of worrying about high notes and getting tired. My tuning was even better – on the big mouthpiece, I used to go sharper and sharper as the night went on – last night, once I was in tune, I was in tune. I’m so excited by the fact that playing was easier that I think I might just have to keep my practising up now. This is my problem though – I get obsessed with things. I can’t just practise once a day – I have to do it twice a day, for longer and longer. But I will have to keep control of it otherwise I will still be doing this PhD by the time I’m 65.
Probably trumpet mouthpiece talk is as boring for non trumpet players as my running talk is for non runners, so I’d better stop there. Next week I have quite a busy week – I’m giving a lecture on the poetry of Carol Ann Duffy tomorrow at Mancester Met University for a group of visiting Australian students (teenagers). I’ve got meetings for Poem and a Pint, and for Kendal Poetry Festival. I’m reading at Bad Language in Manchester as the guest poet on Wednesday, and Friday I’m going over to Settle to present prizes to the winners of the Settle Poetry Competition, and give a short reading of my own poetry as well, alongside the fabulous Carola Luther. On Saturday I’m reading in Ilkley at Ilkley Literature Festival to launch the Poetry Business ‘One for the Road’ anthology, celebrating pubs in poetry and prose. I’ll be reading alongside Stuart Maconie and Peter Sansom for that event. Then I’m staying in Ilkley before catching the train down to Swindon to be reunited with Hilda Sheehan before heading over to be the guest poet at Buzzwords in Cheltenham on Sunday. At some point on that Sunday, maybe on the train on the way down to Swindon, I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to do my blog!
I have such a good Sunday Poem for you this week! I read this poem – and wow. It blew me away straight away. Today’s Sunday Poem comes from Smoothie by Claudine Toutongi which has just been published by Carcanet. I’m halfway through my second read of the collection and I’m really enjoying it. It feels very different to the kind of poetry I write, but maybe that is why I like it so much. It feels very fresh. Mark Waldron talks on the back of the book about the ‘lightness of touch’, and a ‘kind of unafraid honesty’ which I think sums the book up really well.
After reading the poem, I thought the ‘you’ in the poem was an ex-boyfriend, or at least someone that the speaker has had some kind of physical and emotional connection with, but it’s not entirely clear. Maybe it was one of those connections filled with longing/yearning and not much else, the worst kind, I think as there is never any real life experiences to give any real-life disappointment.
And thinking back to my PhD musing post, and who poems are addressed to, and that idea of ‘slyness’ or ‘doubleness’ in a mode of address – I think this poem illustrates this perfectly. On a surface level it is addressed to a ‘you’ who I unequivocally see as a man (maybe because of that first simile: “You’re there in front of me/looking like the longest,tallest/coolest glass of water.” but actually, I think the poem is one of those rare poems addressed to women as a collective – although maybe I’m just over-identifying with the content of the poem, and reading that as a call to women to remember the times when we’ve stood in front of someone we’ve fancied/loved/longed for and not been able to speak.
The foregrounding of female desire (“You might as well have/Drink me written on your collar”) is beautifully done (“the longest, tallest/ coolest glass of water”). I also think it’s a wonderful example of the female gaze in poetry. Although desire is at the centre of this poem, and the desire seems to go both ways (“every time/you touch my elbow things feel worse”) the object of desire is actually not an object. He isn’t on display. The only physical description of him is the ‘longest, tallest/coolest glass of water’. After that, the physical descriptions are centred on the speaker. It is her reaction to him (“My heart swims in my chest like a fairground/goldfish trapped in plastic) and their interaction together “the way/we don’t make room for others in our conversation” that are central to the poem. Even the one physical description of the man looking like a glass of water, actually serves to remind us of the thirst of the speaker, her desire. And the ‘Drink me’ on the collar echoes back to Alice in Wonderland, where Alice picks up a bottle with ‘Drink me’ on which transforms her. I couldn’t remember at first whether the potion she drinks makes her smaller or larger – interestingly it makes her smaller – so she can fit through a tiny door and go on to have various adventures, which throws an interesting light on the poem – if the speaker gives in to her desire, will it will make her ‘smaller’ in some way?
Finally, I love the cleverness of the word ‘congrats’ being the ‘shrunken cousin’ of congratulations as well – this line made me smile when I read it because it felt so correct, like a truth you don’t know you know before a poem speaks it for you.
I met Claudine a few years ago on one of the residential courses that I ran but haven’t been in touch with her for a while, so I was really pleased when she messaged to say she had a collection coming out with Carcanet.
Claudine grew up in Warwickshire and studied English and French at Trinity College, Oxford. After an MA at Goldsmiths, she trained as an actor at LAMDA and worked as a BBC RAdio Drama producer and English teacher. As a dramatist, her plays Bit Part and Slipping have been produced by The Stephen Joseph Theatre. She adapted Slipping for BBC Radio 4, after it was featured in an international reading series at New York’s Lark Play Development Centre. Other work for BBC Radio includes Deliverers and The Inheritors. She lives in Cambridge. You can find out more about Claudine by heading to her website https://claudinetoutoungi.weebly.com/
If you would like to buy Smoothie, head over to Carcanet, where it is available at the moment at a discount – for the bargain price of £8.99. I promise you, this is a collection that deserves to be read – it’s funny, inventive, sharp but with some punch-in-the-gut moments as well.
Reunion – Claudine Toutongi
You’re there in front of me
looking like the longest, tallest
coolest glass of water. You might as well have
Drink me written on your collar.
My heart swims in my chest like a fairground
goldfish trapped in plastic and
whether it’s the fact we’re gulping coffee
after coffee from the buffet, or that every time
you touch my elbow things feel worse, or the way
we don’t make room for others in our conversation – I can’t
tell, but it seems to me your tongue sticks to the roof of
my mouth, though it doesn’t and I can’t pronounce the
words I need to say and even when my friend, your wife,
arrives it doesn’t come and so I say congrats. Not
even the whole word just its shrunken cousin –
and your expression hovers right before your face
and doesn’t seem to want to land.