The Argotist Online

Blogs bring out the egotist in people, almost by definition.

Time to bring out The Argotist. The link's where you'd think it'd be.

They're becoming an increasingly interesting place to find interviews with poets, critics and editors of note: Charles Bernstein, Marjorie Perloff, and yours truly, among others.

Also, some good poetry can be located there, including by Mr. Waling, whose blog is noted elsewhere at this one.

Mirror In The Bathroom

Poet and photographer Derek Adams recently took photos for his forthcoming exhibition of poets based in the UK.

Here's an example of his work. The fellow in the photograph is me.

Shaw, Todd Shaw

I am back from the silver anniversary of the Annual Writers Conference, in Winchester, the brainchild of Barbara Large. From humbler beginnings, it has developed into a major gathering of (mainly commercial) writers, from thriller and romance novelists, to top literary agents, non-fiction types, and even some poets. She is to be congratulated on a marvelous occasion.

I was honoured to be at the head table for the dinner on Saturday evening, and was asked to read a few poems to the gathering, which I did. I failed to use the mic to my advantage - I have a tendency to want to swallow it. Still, I think I mostly got the poems across to the somewhat bemused gathering. One of the poems I read is the "American Found Poem" also at this site. One of my dinner companions was a noted geneticist who confessed to having a secret passion for raunchy limericks. He recited some of them to me over our salad.

One of the best parts of the day - for me - was the so-called "One-to-Ones" - these take place, like speed dating, at tables in a large room. Writers and agents sit at these small card tables and await - at fifteen minute intervals - the latest aspiring writer to sidle up, sit down, and show you their work. It wasn't as awkward a procedure as it at first promised to be, and, despite or because of the very loud buzzing in the room, there was a palpable sense of occasion.

Some of the poets I saw were quite good. Several were rather too open about their disappointment at not having U.A. Fanthorpe - I was sitting in for her. One woman kept repeating, at regular intervals you just aren't Ursula and there was nothing I could do. There's a poem or at least a title of a band in that, maybe.

Perhaps the low point was the fact that the little flag at my table, with my name on it, signaling how to come and find me, was initially inscribed Todd Shaw. From such ignominy is great poetry made.

On The Ropes

Another very hot day in London.

Tony Blair tongue-lashing the EU with his brand of "British pragmatism" (would that be common-sensical Newton, Hobbes, Smith, Locke, Pope and Hume vs. irrational Brahe, Rousseau, Rimbaud, Marx, Freud, and Derrida, by any chance?) - and Tim Henman (sadly if predictably) being knocked out of Wimbledon in the second round. Henmania in 05 is not what Beatlemania was in 65, to be sure.

Speaking of being on the ropes - delight of authors everywhere - a good review arrived in the post today, which I read over tea in the shade. It is for my latest collection of poems, Rue du Regard (sometimes mis-spelled, or is that mis-spelt as Rue de Regarde); if you google the title you'll discover it is a famous little street in Paris on which lived prime minsters and a psychoanalyst.

The review is in Ropes, issue 13, sub-titled untwined: a fine-looking Creative Writing Grad Student production out of Ireland, with an Introduction by Patrick McCabe (The Butcher Boy).

Basically, the review says my poems deserve "a far wider audience" due to my poetry's combination of "lyricism, irony and honesty" and that's pleasant to hear. Thank you for that. Now if we can only do something to help Tim. I've given up on Tony.

Poet At Large

The vaguely muggy, quite hot weather continues here today in London. 83% of people polled in Britain believe in global warming, and they have reason to.

This Saturday, June 25, I have the honour of being "Poet At Large" at one of the largest writers' festivals in the UK. To be precise, The 25th Annual Writers' Conference, Bookfair & Workshops at University College Winchester. Hope to see you there.

I'll be chairing some panels, reading a few poems at the conference dinner, and, perhaps most importantly, filling in for U.A Fanthorpe, who was unable to hold her one-to-one poetry workshops. Terribly big shoes to fill, since Fanthorpe is one of the most beloved and best known of English poets. I'll do my best.

The Case For Colin Wilson

Today is the summer solstice, and this morning's BBC news broadcast (on Radio 4) informed us that the Druids at Stonehenge might be on strike; meanwhile, ambulance times are getting faster in the UK - allegedly due to time-fixing: 400 cases last year arrived before the emergency call was put through. Philip K Dick territory, surely.

As you no doubt know, I am the poetry editor of Nthposition.com - and from time to time I also write reviews for Nth. This June sees my review of Colin Wilson's latest autobiography (he wrote one years ago in about three days), which is very good. I have recently been in email correspondence with Colin Wilson (legendary author of The Outsider pictured above), and he is very witty and open. Long may he continue to think and write.

New American Writing in London

Today might be described as the first hot, sunny day of the summer here in London. This while all hell breaks loose over Britain's intransigence regarding the EU budget. It is odd to live in a country that, while nominally in Europe, sees its weather map halt at the English Channel.

Today's post brought the new issue (23) of New American Writing, edited and published by Paul Hoover and Maxine Chernoff. I was a special guest editor of a section of this issue, called "The New Canadian poetry" which represents 20 younger poets born between 1960-1980. I'll try and write more about that a later time.

The issue includes much else besides, and has a very cool cover - based on a found photograph, artist unknown - out of focus but the colours are sympathetic to the eye. I'm looking forward to sitting down with a cup of tea and reading over the complete NAW sometime soon.