Paul Simister RIP

A good friend of mine, Paul Simister, died recently. I first met him in 1982 when I was 19 and he was 36. We were both studying at Mabel Fletcher’s College of Music and Drama in Liverpool, where he was studying music and I was studying drama. He had been playing the guitar for several years before I met him, having taught himself, but went to the college to learn music theory.

He played the guitar to a very good standard, even though he was self-taught, and could play most styles of guitar music, from blues to classical. In his late fifties, he taught himself to play classical piano to a fairly good standard. He was also a talented sketch artist and could draw life-like pencil portraits of people, having studied art before I met him.

In 1987, he taught me to play folk guitar, and I was able to learn some folk guitar picking styles within a few months. I didn’t have a guitar, so he gave me one of his. He had several guitars and lots of guitar equipment, like plectrums, capos, tuners and guitar chord songbooks. He gave me some of these too. I wouldn’t have been able to learn the guitar without his generosity.

In late 1987, we started going to folk nights at The Lion Pub in Moorfields, Liverpool, each month, where we would sing and play folk songs as part of the line-up. I stopped going in 1989 for reasons I now forget, but he continued to be involved in the local folk scene, attending various folk nights up until the late 2000s.

By 2019, his feet had become very numb due to diabetic neuropathy, which made it difficult for him to walk long distances. When I next saw him in 2022, after the Covid lockdowns, he was using a walking stick and walking very slowly. We didn’t meet much due to that and mainly talked to each other on the phone.

I will always remember fondly his flat, which had a cosy ambiance, especially on winter nights, with the dim glow of the low-wattage light bulb casting shadows in the corners of the living room. For some reason, I associated the ambiance of his flat with what I imagined to have been the atmosphere of the various apartments that folk musicians in Greenwich Village in the early 1960s lived in.

He was a remarkable person whose kindness and generous nature, I’m sure, left a mark on everyone he met, as it did on me. His friendship for 42 years has given me lasting memories that I will forever cherish. He once said to me in the summer of 1983 that he had a feeling he would know me for a very long time, and that feeling turned out to be true.

May he rest in peace, knowing he was deeply loved and will always be remembered.

A Reappraisal of The Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry 42 Years On

Blake Morrison and Andrew Motion’s The Penguin Book of Contemporary British Poetry, published in 1982, sparked controversy due to its perceived exclusions and attempts to redefine poetic styles. In their Introduction, Morrison and Motion claimed a lineage from High Modernism for the largely descriptive poetry in the anthology, which was met with scepticism in some quarters. This article aims to revisit their claims and explore the anthology’s impact, questioning its categorisations, and also Morrison and Motion’s assertions regarding poetic innovation, narrative preferences and visual perception, and also to reassess the anthology’s influence and its lingering effects on the poetic landscape.

As mentioned, when the anthology appeared, it caused controversy. Most of this was because of the anthology’s exclusion of a significant number of women and ethnic poets. While this is no doubt true, what interests me more is Morrison and Motion’s claim that the largely descriptive poetry contained in the anthology is, in some sense, a continuation of the experiments of High Modernism. It is this attempt by Morrison and Motion to “rebrand” the anthology’s descriptive poetry as non-descriptive, in order to suggest that the descriptive aspects of the poetry are merely apparent rather than actual, that I will deal with here.

In their Introduction, Morrison and Motion assert that the poets showcased in this volume demonstrate ‘greater imaginative freedom and linguistic daring than the previous poetic generation’. However, it is unclear to whom they are referring as the ‘previous poetic generation’. Are they alluding to the Movement poets, the Group, the British confessional poets (such as Hughes and Plath), or a combination of these? It seems unlikely that they mean the Movement, as Morrison and Motion state that, ‘the new spirit in British poetry began to make itself felt in Northern Ireland during the late 1960s and early 70s’, undoubtedly referring to the Belfast cell of the Group, overseen by Philip Hobsbaum at Queen’s University.

We can confidently assert this because several attendees of this group are featured in this anthology: Seamus Heaney, Derek Mahon and Michael Longley. Philip Hobsbaum, the mentor of these three poets, was critical of Eliot, Pound and Modernism in general. Additionally, Heaney emphasised truthfulness and clarity in poetic expression. Therefore, it is curious that Morrison and Motion describe the majority of poets in the anthology as exhibiting ‘a literary self-consciousness reminiscent of the modernists’.

However, it is not evident from the majority of poems in this volume that this is actually the case. It would be inaccurate to credit much of the poetry in the anthology as particularly exemplifying a literary self-consciousness (or a postmodernist playfulness, for that matter). In any case, the claimed innovativeness is undermined by Morrison and Motion when they qualify it by stating of the poets: ‘this does not imply that their work is frivolous or amoral’. With this caveat, we see an echo of the liberal humanist view of poetry as needing to possess “worth” or “value”.

The poets in this anthology are lauded by Morrison and Motion for ‘making the familiar strange again’. However, it shouldn’t go unnoticed that the practice of defamiliarisation relies on vision, aiming to refresh our perception of the world and focus our attention on its objects, making it essentially descriptive. Another aspect praised by Morrison and Motion is the outlook that ‘expresses itself, in some poets, in a preference for metaphor and poetic oddity over metonymy and plain speech; in others, it is evident in a renewed interest in narrative—that is, in describing the details and complexities of (often dramatic) incidents. [These poets are] not poets working in a confessional white heat but dramatists and storytellers’.

Several points should be noted about this passage. Firstly, the term ‘poetic oddity’ is left undefined by Morrison and Motion, who also fail to provide examples of it in this anthology, so I will consider it a red herring. Secondly, a preference for metaphor is hardly new; Ted Hughes heavily depended on it. Thirdly, metonymy is a legitimate poetic device and one of the few that is non-descriptive; however, Morrison and Motion also fail to cite instances of it in the anthology’s poetry. Fourthly, the use of narrative and plain speech in poetry to describe dramatic events is something that conservative writers such as Edward Thomas, Robert Frost and Philip Hobsbaum would advocate. As an explanation for this anthology’s poetic approach, this passage leaves much to be desired.

What is most telling about the anthology’s Introduction is its emphasis upon visual perception and the act of witnessing. Morrison and Motion point out that most of the poets have developed procedures ‘designed to emphasise the gap between themselves and their subjects’; and that these poets are ‘not inhabitants of their own lives so much as intrigued observers, not victims but onlookers’. The poet who most embodies this in the anthology is Craig Raine, whose “Martian” poetry typifies the poetic outlook of the anthology’s Introduction with regard to its championing of visual perception, simile and defamiliarisation.

Morrison and Motion apologise for Martian poetry by claiming that far from its being the cold, arid, visually-based entity that it is usually taken for, it is in actuality imbued with emotion: ‘It would be wrong to think that the Martians’ ingenuity prevents them from expressing emotion: their way of looking is also a way of feeling’. However, like most of the assertions made by Morrison and Motion in this Introduction, it is not instanced by textual examples or any other evidence—it is to be taken on faith.

After 42 years, the influence of this anthology’s aesthetic still permeates contemporary mainstream poetry. The pervasive belief that reality exists independently of perception and that poetry’s primary role is to describe material phenomena has led to critiques of poems solely on these grounds. As a result, much of today’s celebrated poetry conforms to this critical perspective.