City of Words: New poetry releases from one of the liveliest scenes in the country
‘SPIRITUAL DIMENSION’: Writer and musician Russ Litten
Writer and broadcaster Joe Hakim gets to grips with the latest poetry releases
I don’t usually do reviews, mainly because I’ve been on the receiving end of a few of them. However, over the past couple of months, there’s been a glut of great books published, and I’ve been struck by how great the literature scene is in this part of the world.
A big reason for that is the rise of indie presses, which is being bolstered by the resurgence of indie bookstores and venues. Places like Rabbit Hole in Brigg, JE Books in Hull and Café INDIE in Scunthorpe are not only providing outlets for indie presses to sell their wares, but spaces for readings, workshops and performances.
In terms of presses, we have Wild Pressed, Wrecking Ball and Barbican in Hull, PS Publishing in Hornsea, La Luna in Grimsby, plus a raft of quality self-published work. Whatever your literary poison – be it non-fiction, genre stuff like sci-fi and crime, or poetry – there is something that will be to your taste. There’s a whole spectrum of work that’s being produced outside of the mainstream which more than holds its own when placed on the bookshelf alongside it.
I want to take this opportunity to highlight a couple of books published around the same time as this column, so hopefully you’ll go and check them out, and when you do, hopefully you’ll buy them, either direct from the publishers themselves, or from your local indie bookshop.
Welcome to Joe’s Poetry Corner
Disclaimer alert: 1. I’m mates with both of these writers, so I’m unashamedly biased (it’s a column though, innit?). 2. In relation to the statement above, because I know both of the writers, this means I’m unable to separate these books from the larger context of their writing careers, so these reviews will also serve as an introduction to their work in general, if that makes sense.
I Can See The Lights - Russ Litten / Wild Pressed Books
Writer Russ Litten started hanging around producer and musician’s Steve Cobby’s shed in late 2015. They would chat, drink and watch YouTube clips and listen to music. Russ would improvise, write some stuff, and Steve would provide the beats.
What started as ‘two blokes messing about in a shed’ went onto to blossom into three album of electronica / spoken word: My People Come From the Sea, Boothferry, and Pound Shop Communism, culminating in a slot at John Grant’s North Atlantic festival, which took place in Hull in 2017.
The Sleaford Mods comparisons were inevitable, but widely off the mark. The tracks eschewed the usual scatter-gun, sub-Cooper Clarke delivery beloved by many music / spoken word outfits, and instead utilised Russ’s laconic, unaffected delivery. The words – little vignettes and observations about characters and situations – flowed out rather than spat.
Published by Wild Pressed Books, I Can See The Lights starts with a foreword in which Russ seeks to distance himself from the title of ‘poet’. He explains that these words are more influenced by music and beats than any adherence to poetic forms.
I don’t have the time or space to wade into the whole ‘page vs. stage’ or ‘town and gown’ poetry debate (yet another column perhaps, I’m developing a backlog) but it’s interesting to note that all of the work I’m discussing here emerged from and was forged in the heat of performance. While we won’t be emerging from the shadow of Larkin any time soon, it’s clear that the poetry landscape in Hull in the early 21st century is being defined by spoken word / performance poetry, as demonstrated by the presence of BBC Contains Strong Language festival for the past three years.
Despite the title sitting uncomfortably on his shoulders, the opening piece of the collection, The Bookie is an intricately crafted hymn to the twisted optimism at the core of the compulsive gambler:
‘But hope springs eternal when the day is most bleak, when the starting bells ring and the whistles shriek’
The pieces in the collection fall into roughly two categories: observations of characters and moments, and more personal reflections on aspects of the past and present. For example, in Arthur we get a sharp introduction into a prisoner’s reintroduction into society, a place where freedom equals temptation; while in Murdering The Hours we get a glimpse into the sometimes painful, sometimes boring, process of settling down to get something done.
Over his career as the author of three novels and a short-story collection, Russ, like many writers who emerge from this region, is often lumped with the frankly lazy adjective of ‘gritty’. I personally think that there’s a very spiritual dimension to his work. A lot of his characters are sages and seekers, the kind of people who are searching for that missing piece of themselves. Like we all are.
He simultaneously acknowledges and lampoons this aspect of his writing with (Not Another) Urban Mystic, an ode to all the ‘90s all-night rave casualties that encountered the touch of the divine after one too many sleepless weekends.
Although their styles are very different, both Russ and Dean Wilson, who I’ll look at below, possess that rare gift of being able to imbue our everyday consensus reality with the suggestion that there’s something more, something greater than us that remains hidden behind a curtain, and it’s only our inability to reach up and pull the sky to one side that prevents us from seeing it.
Take Me Up The Lighthouse - Dean Wilson / Wrecking Ball Press
There’s a real sense that over the past couple of years, Dean has gone from being Hull’s best-kept secret to the verge of becoming a genuine phenomenon. After his break-out turn at BBC Contains Strong Language in 2017, and his collection of poetry Sometimes I’m So Happy I’m Not Safe On The Streets, published by Wrecking Ball Press in 2016, more and more people have become aware of Dean and his work. And the thing about Dean is, once he gets his hooks into you, there’s no letting go.
I’ve often heard that poetry – in order to be poetry – has to be able to exist separately to its creator. I once heard Simon Armitage explain that he felt the difference between poetry and lyrics is that a poem needs to be able to stand alone; everything the reader needs is on the page. Lyrics need the context of performance: sha-la-la on a page is gibberish, but sung out loud with music those same words can be transcendent. The reason I bring this up is because it’s very difficult to separate Dean from his work, but I think this one of the key reasons behind his appeal; just by engaging with his words you feel as though you’re getting to know him; that he’s becoming a friend, a part of your life as well.
‘BECOMING PART OF YOUR LIFE’: Dean Wilson. Photograph by Phill Hutchinson
The first two basic lessons you learn in creative writing are less is more and show don’t tell. I honestly think they’ll be writing PhDs about how Dean managed to cram so much into his poems by not trying to say too much.
Dean has recently become a bit of a social media smash (seriously, if you’re not on board with Pebble of the Day already, you’re missing out), and I think using Twitter as a platform has had an effect on Dean’s writing. These are all bite-size poems, not a single one of them meanders or hangs about, and they don’t need to. Take Bill for example, published here in its entirety:
BILL
‘His wife ran off
with a pig farmer
and now
he’s at mine
screaming
blue murder
I’m going to take
a Paracetamol
something
tells me
he won’t be taking
no for an answer.’
Right, have you read it? Now read it again. It’s funny, it’s dramatic, it’s packed full of detail, and you laugh when you start reading it, and then you’re worried by the end.
And so you read another poem, like CALM, and you’re thinking: is this because of Bill? And those little details start to float to the surface and stand out. So you read another poem, and you get another little detail, like the What Would Doris Day Do? notebook in GUARD, and the candlewick bedspread in WAITING FOR GODFREY and then bang, it hits you: you’re in Dean’s world now. And Dean’s world is often a sexy one; some of his poems practically drip with the stuff.
‘GETS HIS HOOKS INTO YOU’: Dean Wilson. Photograph by Phill Hutchinson
I sometimes joke about the Cult of Dean, about how he could found a new spiritual centre in Withernsea and people would flock to it. Because Dean makes it easy to love him and Take Me Up The Lighthouse perfectly demonstrates why. Also, you need to see Dean perform. There’s no going back after that. He’s done a series of films with Dave Lee to promote the release of the book, and you can find them on Twitter: @davelee1968.
Other recent independent poetry publications to recommend:
Sussed – Jim Higo
He’s been described as a spoken-word Mark E. Smith, and the trademark misanthropy which defines Jim’s live performances is on full display is here, but there’s also pathos and a more reflective tone in some of the poems, a whole other side of Jim emerging from the pages.
A performer at heart, Sussed sees Jim take the opportunity to use the page to explore his range – and depth – as a poet.
A Woman With A Grudge – Catherine Scott
In her fourth collection of poetry, the wry acidic wit and caustic observations of Catherine’s work finds her embracing her voice and making good on the years spent performing and refining her material into something that is unmistakably her own. It’s been a real pleasure watching her development.
Dark Animals – Various
In a relatively short span of time, Hull imprint Wild Pressed Books has gained an impressive stable of writers. But they’ve remained committed to accessibility and are offering opportunities for new voices to get their work in print. Their recent anthology Dark Animals features fifteen new writers, some of which are published for the first time. At a time when YouTube and Instagram are becoming the go-to mediums for young poets, it’s great to see a press that is committed to offering an alternative avenue of development.