On Literature

BLURB: On Literature brings together selected key articles written about the author's local creative writing scene (Bradford, West Yorkshire) as well as creative writing in general. From poets waxing lyrical to poets getting down right political, some tantalising excursions with the muse are explored in the following 'pages'. So dip inside and be inspired; there's more to literary living than you might think.

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  On Literature

  Selected Journalism by Mark Cantrell

  ISBN: 978-1301-5501-1-1

  This e-Book Edition Published April 2011

  First Edition January 2004

  Copyright (C) January 2004/2011.

  Some Rights Reserved.

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted under the provisions of the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act (1988).

  This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 UK: England & Wales License. To view a copy of this licence, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/uk/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California 94105, USA.

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.markcantrell.co.uk

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  Table Of Contents

  Chapter 1: Foreword To This Edition

  Chapter 2: Introduction

  Chapter 3: Type Into The Altered State Of Mind

  Chapter 4: The Naked Verse

  Chapter 5: Taking Bradford By Storm

  Chapter 6: Tales Of Asylum

  Chapter 7: Marking Two Horrors With Poetry

  Chapter 8: On The Road For The Cross Cultural Espresso

  Chapter 9: Muses From The Primordial S[ub]lime

  Chapter 10: Don't Publish My Collected Works!

  Chapter 11: About The Author

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  Chapter 1: Foreword

  HANG out among poets for any length of time and you'll eventually encounter the chapbook. This is a self-published tome, typically an A5 staple-bound home made effort, that has long been an essential element of poetic circles. One might almost say they are swapped around like business cards.

  These days, the words of a poet have so many other potential outlets, courtesy of the internet and digital publishing, but when it comes to mingling in the social milieu of the poet – at lit fairs, open mics and writers' groups – the chapbook remains an important tool. Call it hardcopy file-sharing if you want, but one where's there is at least some kind of fair trade partaken if not an actual cash transaction.

  So, like many a social poet, supping beer at the venues, I self-published a handful of poetry chapbooks. I did the same for some of my essays and prose writing, such as this volume, cheaply binding them, and touting them to peers. I published, they sold in the small numbers I produced (as is par the course for chapbooks – their rarity is perhaps an essential aspect of their purpose), and then they passed into the backstory of time.

  Until now.

  It seemed an apt time to dust off the old DTP files and re-issue the old paper chapbooks in a PDF ebook format, retaining the old look and feel as much as possible. So, here we have On Literature presented as a digital second edition.

  There's more where this came from, so why not give them a try?

  Mark Cantrell,

  Manchester,

  29 September 2009

  Chapter 2: Introduction

  HERE we are again, another year another salivation of words and another book for your delectation.

  Or at least to fold in two and stick underneath that annoyingly short table leg. Hey, I'm here to serve.

  Before you do that though, take a moment to scan through the pages. There might be a word here and there that catches the eye and provokes the urge to read.

  In fact, why not do just that: read before you use it to prop up that wobbly old item of household furnishing.

  That way, you get double the value.

  On Literature focuses on the wonderful world of the local writer. From poets to poetry events and writers getting downright angry about the state of the world, there's something for every literary groupie out there.

  It's all in here. Somewhere. Mostly.

  Now journalism isn't the kind of writing intended to last longer than a day, but that's not to say some of it can't have a long lasting appeal. The same is true of the articles in this book.

  The events and the times have moved on since pen first tickled paper, but the moments still linger in living memory. And with these words, the moments will live a little longer beyond even that.

  We can live in hope.

  For now, enjoy a little taste of literature past, and maybe get inspired for literature tomorrow.

  I know I did.

  Mark Cantrell,

  The Love Apple,

  Bradford, 2 January 2004

  Chapter 3: Type Into The Altered State Of Mind

  EVERY session at the keyboard is a journey to unknown places.

  So too are those times when I sit with notepaper and pen.

  My body might reside in the here and now of the physical universe, but like the ancient shaman high on exotic herbs, my mind – or soul depending on your inclinations – is away elsewhere.

  Not to the gods. Or the spirits of animals and ancestors.

  Elsewhere.

  To that place that somehow reaches back to this world to manifest itself on the glowing screen or the coffee-stained paper.

  It's a hard place to reach.

  Some, again, we're back to shamans, have preached the wondrous facilitator that is illegal drugs. Pop a pill, snort some neuro-chemically interesting powder and open the doors to perception.

  Others might swear by various concoctions of alcohol.

  And yes, there's always the boring swot who preaches the virtues of hard work.

  They overlook something.

  Not that hard work is not a given, whatever substance you abuse or none. And it isn't sleep deprivation either, which can sometimes be a wonderful hallucinatory mind-swirling phenomenon for the creative writer out for a quick nib.

  No. They forget.

  That writing itself is an altered stream of consciousness. The words themselves, and the fizzing incandescent ideas they dance to represent, can themselves open that mystical doorway to perception and otherworldliness.

  I think, drugs aside, those ancient shamans knew that little secret too.

  These days they have a phrase for it. Typically boring. The kind of label that only someone who's spent years using their mind to learn the theories and hypotheses of what makes the brain work rather than the mind itself could come up with.

  Hey, let's take the essential mystery out of the mind, they might have declared. Then thought even that's too scintillating and figured let's just map the neurons and stick a few electrodes in to see how they mechanically behave.

  They call it the hypnagogic state.

  It has different brainwave patterns apparently, quite distinct from phases like REM or deep sleep, or various neurologically and experientially interesting substances.

  I suppose as writers we forget this too. We just say we were on a roll.

  On a whole roll of flying carpet, maybe.

  Because that's when we're flying.

  We've got there without chemicals. Only the most powerful drug known to man: words.

  Opening the door might be hard work. We might stare at the keyboard or at the paper for ages.

  Frustrated.

  Grumpy.

  Wondering why we bother.

  And then the idea detonates in the head, or else we get 'back into the flow' and suddenly we're there.

  Not at the table or the PC. Not in the café. But out there.

  In whatever world we're struggling to
create.

  Once we're there, the outside world, the mundane place, is gone. It's beyond our perception, because – temporarily at least – we have moved on to a higher plane of existence.

  So sure, it exists only in the mnemonics of words, but mathematicians express the entire complexity and beauty of the Universe in the mnemonics of numbers and algebra. Why should ours be any less real because the mnemonics assemble in our heads and are encoded on paper by the mechanics of the motor cortex, bones and muscle. Oh yes, and the pen (or keyboard).

  The Muse is out there. Hiding, and giggling coy in the cosmology of our altered state.

  And we search in strange places every time we sit at a desk.

  So be adventurous. Don't just push at the doors, fling them wide and see what's out there. You might be amazed at what comes back with you.

  Writing is metaphysical, spiritual cosmic exploration, without never a need to worry about the vice squad a'calling.

  Unless, that is, you like to wind down with the old prohibited stuff.

  Me, I'll just stick with the words.

  December 2003

  Chapter 4: The Naked Verse

  IN a fourth floor flat on a run down council estate in Bradford, the camera is watching two people strip and climb into a coffin.

  This isn't some kind of low-budget necrophiliac porn, but the photo-shoot for the cover art and illustrations of Love, Sex, Death & Carrots, the latest anthology of poetry and prose produced by the Interchange writers' network.

  The models are members of the group who volunteered to flaunt more than just their words for the sake of literary and visual art.

  It's the group's first anthology since Flak Attack seven years ago, and it was produced with the aid of a grant from Yorkshire Arts. Its 80 pages are packed with the fruits of those years; poetry and prose and even a little music, courtesy of veteran journalist and broadcaster Karl Dallas.

  In total, twenty Interchange stalwarts grace the pages of the book. Many have been active in developing performance poetry throughout West Yorkshire and beyond. They include Seema Gill, Andrew Penwarden, Patrick Blues and Bruce Barnes. For all their diverse activities, they do concede this latest volume has been a long time in the making.

  "I'll tell you why we haven't produced an anthology since 1993 -- we've been too busy," says the group's chairman, Howard Frost, in the book's foreword. "Poet members have read their work in the UK, USA, Australia and Canada. They have read at festivals in Edinburgh, Cheltenham, Ilkley, Bristol, Sheffield, London, and in Austin (Texas) and Cape Cod (USA)... Other members working in the realm of novels, short stories, play and film scripts as well as song writing have also achieved success in their chosen genres."

  The book was finally launched at the Interchange @ the Melborn performance poetry event. This is one of the group's regular venues: an open mic session that occurs every last Wednesday of the month. A similar event takes place on the first Wednesday of every month at the Monkey Bar cafe in Wakefield. And these will form the backbone of the book's marketing strategy.

  For Phil Wainman, artist and one of the editorial team, his challenge was to produce artwork that would match the theme of the book. The title is derived from the nature of poetry, most relating to love or sex or death. The rest deals with everything else, which goes some way towards explaining the carrots.

  "One of my biggest worries for the cover artwork was that I wouldn't be able to find anyone to pose nude – especially in the coffin," said Wainman. "When I finally got four volunteers, plus myself, I was really pleased. It's not an easy thing to pose nude for photographs and still manage to look natural. I was extremely impressed by how professional everyone was."

  Despite the nudity, it's all tastefully done. Not a –female – nipple in sight, so there's anything to offend those of a more sensitive disposition. That said, some might find the coffin a little disturbing, even though it was cobbled together from scrap wood and an old wardrobe by Wainman's sidekick Joedot (his 'professional' name).

  "I had this idea for the front cover, which was to have a nude couple in a coffin, surrounded by carrots with love hearts floating around," Wainman added. "I liked this idea, because it properly reflected each aspect of the title in the image. It was at this point that I started working with Joedot, because not only is he a great artist but he also had the necessary skills to both design and build the coffin that was needed."

  Originally the plan was to use a proper coffin, but nobody was prepared to loan them such a grim item, even after an advert in the local press. That left them no choice but to make their own.

  "I had this old wood affect chipboard wardrobe," said Joedot. "It was going to cost about £150 to build a coffin big enough to fit two people from scratch. So the wardrobe had to go. This [and some scrap wood] cut the coffin's cost to about £40. We built it over a few weeks."

  With a coffin finally to hand, they were able to collect the models and take the shots. "I was a bit nervous seeing naked friends walking about the flat, but they looked quite beautiful," Joedot added. "We soon got used to it and began to enjoy staging this art."

  The visuals might have been a challenge for Wainman, but as part of the editorial team he also faced the tough process of sifting through all the submissions to create the finished volume. As with the photographs, he didn't face this task alone. He worked alongside chief editor Lynette Shaw McKone and Rahel Guzellian to ensure they picked the right balance among the diverse voices on offer.

  "Selecting work was very difficult," said Shaw McKone. "We devised a complicated scoring system, and had three 'elimination rounds', selecting the works with the highest scores. We worked hard to be as fair as we could to ensure that everyone who submitted work had some included."

  Now that the job is complete and the book out, alongside the pride in a job well done, she confesses she feels 'strangely empty'.

  "It took up so much of our time that for the first week after it had gone off to the printers, I seemed to be in limbo," she added. "I swore I would never do it again, then chewed the carpet waiting for it to come back. I can't wait to do another one now. I think I've got the bug."

  February 2001

  Chapter 5: Taking Bradford By Storm

  (A preview of a multimedia and literary celebration of the Bolshevik Revolution that took place on the 13th November 1999 at the then Priestley Centre for Arts. First appeared in the Morning Star newspaper…)

  EIGHTY-TWO years ago this month [as at the time of publication], the Bolsheviks led the Russian workers and peasants into the limelight of history. They took the Winter Palace, Russia and the world by storm. This was an epic performance, and rehearsals were a luxury they could not afford.

  For the two grey-bearded men plotting in a mildew-scented basement somewhere in Bradford, that's not such a problem. One is stern of face as he meticulously goes through the plan of action. He mercilessly drills the other man, who has an enthusiastic gleam in his eyes from contemplating their plan becoming reality. For them, rehearsals are an absolute necessity as they prepare to follow in the footsteps of the Bolsheviks and take the city by storm.

  Fortunately, for the theatre-goers of Bradford, director Howard Frost and producer/performer Karl Dallas are not plotting insurrection, although the latter is a self-confessed revolutionary. Instead, they are putting together a stage performance to celebrate the anniversary of the Russian Revolution.

  Some will undoubtedly ask why anybody would want to celebrate the Russian Revolution, particularly ten years after the symbolic demolition of the Berlin Wall, and the subsequent collapse of the Soviet Union. Yet, the world today would be horribly familiar to the Bolsheviks. Their battle-cry of 'Land, Bread and Peace' still carries a dreadful resonance for millions of people living in a world of unprecedented disparities between rich and poor.

  The dust has settled on the bones of the Soviet age, but its builders in 1917 still speak to people today. The words of Lenin and Trotsky and Marx - voted Man of the Millennium - s
till inspire hope and struggle for a better world built from the bottom up.

  And this is the reason for the celebration that is Red October. The show is a literary performance described as a multimedia experience. Computer generated slides and music by Stravinsky will play alongside performances and readings of poetry and prose. Featured authors include Akhmatova, Bertholt Brecht, Hugh MacDiarmid, Mandelstam, Mayakovsky, Lenin, William Morris, Pasternak and Yevtushenko. The performance is to be rounded off with a reading of J B Priestley's They Came To A City.

  The centrepiece of the evening, however, will be a complete performance of the narrative poem The 12, written by Aleksandr Bloc in 1918, and translated from the original Russian by the producer. Its warts and all depiction of a bunch of Red Guard patrolling the streets of St Petersburg generated much controversy in its day - as did its depiction of Christ leading the way with the Red Flag held high.

  A Christian sub-text, such as that depicted by Bloc's poem, is an important element in the show, which the more secular-minded might miss. This isn't simply an expression of the producer's personal religious convictions, they are also an expression of his politics. "Christianity, like communism, has been perverted for oppression, but in its true sense Christianity is a revolutionary movement. To me Christianity and communism are just two sides of the same coin," Karl says.

  In preparing for his stage debut, Karl is benefiting from the acting experience of his director Howard Frost, a poet, actor and opera singer with experience of over 250 dramatic productions. He agreed to work in the role because of its challenging nature. "It's always a challenge to do a one person show," Howard says. "Karl won't mind me saying that acting is new to him. The challenge has been to create something worth watching for its own sake without overtaxing the abilities of the actor, at the same time as giving someone who lacks previous experience of acting an idea of how to approach his subject. It's working. I think at the end of the day we'll both be able to say that we've achieved what we set out to do."

  When he shuffles out before the lights and the audience at the Priestley Centre for Arts on Saturday, Karl will have realised a ten-year-old ambition. "I've been wanting to put on this show since I first came to Bradford in 1989," he says, "but it was met by a lack of interest from the local communists when I suggested we do something to celebrate October. Then I mentioned it to this group of 'non-political' poets and they agreed to do it."