“How dare she have the cheek to understand me!”

19th October

The Prehistoric Gallery at Manchester Museum might not be the most likely venue for a poetry reading (at least poetry that isn’t about dinosaur digs), but as mentioned in the introduction, we were in fact travelling back in time with Fleur Adcock. And the museum really does create a unique atmosphere – I never expected to be at a poetry reading whilst staring Stan the T Rex right in the face.

Adcock’s father was born in Manchester, and returned to the UK from New Zealand just before World War 2 in order to complete a PhD. Throughout the war, both her parents worked for the ambulance and first aid services, before returning to New Zealand in 1947. Memories, family and childhood are key themes in Adcock’s writing, and she treated us to a reading of 18 poems, from her new collection Dragon Talk and other volumes of work.

‘My father’ is about her father (Adcock admitted, “I’m terrible at titles”), and the moments she spent tracing the streets of Manchester on hearing that he had passed away. She examines the importance of geography and location – a more recent poem explores the technological bridging of a gap when she speaks to her youngest grand-daughter on Skype – and the way in which we process emotional memories. In ‘Direct Hit’, she presents 3 versions of the same story during the war when her father had swapped a shift, to later find that the team he was meant to be working with had been bombed. Drawing information from her father’s letters, her own memory and local newspaper archives, she shows how the documentation of events affects our memories of them; it is also a touching tribute – she noted that there are no official war memorials to the civil defence workers, so this was her own. The poems are full of beautiful detail, and even those dealing with dark subject matter – war, death, loss, grief – are spirited and uplifting.

There is warmth and humour in Fleur Adcock’s poetry; she is sharp but not scathing, and particularly in poems such as ‘Strangers on a Tram’, she is able to capture the indignation and naivety of childhood - in the poem her mother gets on a tram when she’s with her friends. Embarrassed, the young Fleur ignores her mum but is mortified to find that her mum is ignoring her too, sharing only a knowing wink, “how dare she have the cheek to understand me!”

In the Q&A following the reading, the humour in the poems was discussed. Adcock acknowledged that whilst she never wants to be too knowing in her writing, particularly when remembering how she felt as a child, it is inevitable to an extent because as you get older, your memories and view of the world becomes shaped by more and more experience. She also referred to ‘Blitz humour’, and the importance of having a sense of the ridiculous if you are to survive this world. There is also a relief in joking having come out the other side of a turbulent period in your life.

As the readings went on, we caught glimpses of modern technology, the births of new generations and the mind of a woman who is getting older. Adcock explained that as you get older and words begin to escape you, there is more urgency in making connections, in understanding your memories lest the words to describe them be lost. She has a no-nonsense approach to mortality, describing a point at which you must think you’ve simply had enough.

She told us about an aunt who is 100 years old, and doesn’t want to be here anymore, not through a morbid desire to die, but because her friends are no longer around her and she is losing touch with the person she once was. Adcock ended with a frank, funny poem about death, and about the boatman who ferries people across the river Styx into the Underworld: “Where is Dr Shipman when we need him? / Shipman, boatman, ferryman”

Adcock hails from a family of writers, poets and novelists, and she was asked to comment on the ‘Poem Vs Novel’ debate. She had spoken earlier about pinching an idea from a novelist relative who then asked why she had written the poem – her response was that the story was put to better use in a poem, it being only one page rather than reams and reams of paper. She told us that she loves facts, so when she writes prose, it tends to be factual family history; with poems, she doesn’t feel that you need facts and feels more freedom in exploring memories and stories creatively. To differentiate between poems and novels, she simply said, “a poem is a thing with white space around it...selections, picking things out. It’s what photographers and artists do.”

Fleur Adcock is a wonderful reader and storyteller, animated and entertaining, speaking to the audience rather than at them. Time to revisit some of her poems and hope they sound just as good in my head.

by Alex Herod

Alex is Deputy Editor of For Books’ Sake. She has just finished her MA (Performance Works, Leeds Met) and is keen to meet writers, makers and do-ers through her Collaborate Here project.

Tell the Professor where to go!!

Strange Stones, 17th October

After a long day at MLF on Saturday and an overnight stay in Manchester, I was looking forward to a relaxing Sunday afternoon learning about the unsung heroine of 19th century palaeontology, Mary Anning.

My friend Pete and I arrived at the Manchester Museum just as the One Moment In Time Theatre were setting up the show, putting the puppets and props in their starting positions and walking around the room shaking out their arms and skipping a little bit, presumably to warm up. I was surprised that there were only three women and three puppets in the theatre group, I don’t know why but I was expecting at least 10 real people and at least the same number of wooden ones.

The room was jam-packed – I started off sitting at the back, and ended up with the children on the floor, right at the front with a good view of the ‘backstage’ area and the technical team (one of the three women with a laptop and some basic noise-making equipment). The museum provided rugs and squishy round pads for the children to sit on and the mums and dads sat on the chairs. It was intimate and comfortable.

The handmade set was very pretty. It consisted of three separate pieces – all covered with silky and layered wave-like fabric in blues, purples, greens and yellows. A stand on the front had a selection of stones and fossils ready for discovery.

So, on with the show.

Set in the 1880s and beginning at the beginning, the young Mary and her dog are on the beach, looking for fossils, or ‘snake stones’ as they call them. The scene is calm and happy as they play on the beach while a song is played, telling us how Mary was born by the sea into poverty at Lyme Regis, the daughter of cabinetmaker and part-time fossil-finder Richard, and housewife Molly.

We learn about her past, how she narrowly missed death as an infant when lightening struck a tree, killing her three minders but leaving her unscathed. This gives the impression that Mary is special, gifted perhaps. Mary's parents are supportive of her passion for fossils and news travels of her findings. We meet the very posh Professor Buckland from Oxford University who comes to purchase some some of these treasures.

Tragically, her father dies – a terrible loss for the family who rely on the cabinetmaking business for survival. With the flip of a sign, the shop turns into a Fossil Depot, from which the fossils are then sold and a new business grows. When her father comes to her from the dead on the beach in the form of a piece of flying driftwood, the performers begin to sing about history and its immense vastness. The children on the front row are engaged and interested.

Then Mary and her dog make a huge discovery – a pointy scull in the sand. As the purple and blue drapes of the handmade set are removed, we understand the item’s significance. We are told that it’s the first complete Ichthyosaurus skull. Mary sleeps next to it that night and dreams of walking around its head, through it’s eye sockets and out of its mouth. She loves it.

News of the skull travels fast, and the next thing we know, the Professor is there to buy it and take it to London. There he will unveil it to the academic palaeontology community. Great! Only, Mary isn’t allowed to go – she’s a woman, and these meetings are for men only! How utterly unfair and disappointing for her!

The show ends with Mary’s mother telling her that she too will be famous one day, just like the Ichthyosaurus skull. Perhaps this would have cheered her up, but I know it wouldn’t have worked for me!

The performers were fantastic. The puppets were a lot smaller than I expected and their human operators were much more visible. I thought this would make it harder for me to suspend my disbelief, but it didn’t at all. They are clearly very well practiced, as they moved the little bodies and wooden heads smoothly – they looked very human-like. My Grandma had a collection of strange bird puppets which I tried to play with once – it’s VERY difficult, so I was impressed!

The set was well made and simple. The cabinetmaking shop had a dolls’-house feel to it and the whole scene was dreamy and calm. My favourite bit of the set was a hole in the only stationary piece of furniture - the backdrop. Occasionally this hole was revealed and with the switching-on of a lamp and the clever use of cut-out card on the end of bendy sticks, stories were told in silhouette. Moving images of Mary as a baby, the lightening striking her minders and the burial of her father were beautiful and effective.

Overall, the show was great. The children were engaged for the majority of the 50 minutes - especially during the outbursts of song and music. The only disappointing thing was the story itself! I wanted to hear how Mary had overcome being female and excluded and I’d hoped it wasn’t just by getting on with it. I wanted her to keep her Ichthyosaurus skull and tell the Professor where to go!!

Kirsty Young (Digital Marketing Assistant)

Cake Bread Street

Last weekend, I gatecrashed John Siddique's poetry workshop!

I walked around the gallery with the participants as they sought out their inspiration, took some photos and then listened to their excellent poems. I was very impressed.

Trisha Asworth's "Cake Bread Street" caught my attention so I persuaded her to let me film her reading it. Thanks Trisha!

Kirsty Young (Digital Marketing Assistant)

Another mini-interview!

Fleur Adcock is at MLF this week to read from her long-awaited new poetry collection, Dragon Talk. She was kind enough to join Lionel Shriver, Sophie Hannah and Pascale Petit in answering a few questions about her inspirations and influences. Come along to the event at Manchester Museum today at 7:30pm to hear some more.

MLF: What are you reading at the moment?

FA: Does anyone ever answer this question truthfully? I'm usually reading or dipping into two or three books at once, for various locations and moods: poetry, history, a light detective story for the train.

MLF: What made you want to be a writer? Who/ what is your biggest inspiration?

FA: Hearing my mother read poems to me in bed when I was five probably started me off. Phrases such as my "biggest inspiration" don't really make sense to me.

MLF: If you could meet any writer, artist, musician (alive or dead) who would it be and why?

FA: Katherine Mansfield, because we shared so many factors in our lives, many decades apart -- I went to her school in Wellington, lived in her street, emigrated to England as she did. And I'm a great admirer of her stories.

MLF: What would you be if not a writer?

FA: A naturalist.

MLF: Do you ever get writer's block? If you do, how do you get over it?

FA: Frequently. All you can do is wait. Long walks help.

MLF: Which piece of your own work are you most proud of?

FA: Usually whichever I've most recently finished.

MLF: What do you see in your future?

FA: The inevitable: old age, death.

MLF: What are you looking forward to most at MLF?

FA: Being in Manchester and meeting old friends.

Fleur will be at the Manchester Museum tonight, from 7:30pm. Find out more here.