British poetry is in rude health, so why don’t more people read it?

The New Statesman's renewed commitment to poetry.

New Statesman
Photograph: Getty Images

In an anthology of pieces from the New Statesman published in 1963, the editor Edward Hyams wrote that “the early work of almost every poet to make a name since 1913 appeared in the New Statesman. The literary editors, from J C Squire and Desmond MacCarthy to Karl Miller, have made a deliberate policy of seeking out young talent while never neglecting the old.”

The editors’ eye for talent was quite something in those early years. Poems were published by everyone from the war poet Siegfried Sassoon to W H Auden. Three weeks after his death in combat in 1917, the NS published Edward Thomas’s “Adlestrop”, which has become one of the most celebrated poems in English (today we publish poems by Thomas’s biographer Matthew Hollis). W B Yeats’s “Easter 1916” was first published in the NS in October 1920.

There have been excavations and discoveries, too. In 2010 we published, to immense international interest, “Last letter”, a previously unseen poem by Ted Hughes that describes the events during the three days leading up to the suicide of his first wife, the poet Sylvia Plath. And there have been many curiosities over the years, as well – for instance, in 1959, we published Bertolt Brecht’s “The Farmer’s Concern”, followed the next year, bafflingly, by a poem called “Midstream”, written by Mao Zedong in the 1920s. It includes the lines:

O schoolmates, in youth blossoming and tall with talents,                      
We must now in the arrogance of our knowledge                            
Uproot our scented careers.                            
Fingering mountains only, and rivers,                            
To hold poetry alive in our minds,                            
We will use for manure                            
Those bygone dreams of ten-thousand-household fiefdoms.                            

There are fewer dictators in our pages these days, but we hope by publishing poetry weekly once again we can help showcase the best of the new. As Fiona Sampson writes in her essay, on page 46, poetry in Britain today is rich, energetic and varied. And there are many more ways to find poems – one can hear them spoken aloud at poetry slams or read them online in alternative, digital forms, as well as in magazines such as this. There is a multitude of voices out there. It is a question of tuning in and finding them.

The New Statesman is not alone in helping readers seek out those new voices. The charity First Story is part of this effort, too. In the following pages, alongside poems by John Burnside and Samuel Beckett, James Lasdun and Rachael Boast, is a poem by Azfa Ali, a student at Oxford Spires Academy. Ali took part in a workshop, supported by First Story, that met every week under the supervision of the writer Kate Clanchy. That workshop led to the publication of a collection of poems, entitled Journeys. I recommend it to anyone seeking out urgent poetic voices in the first flush of creativity.

Inside our poetry special, you will find:

Fiona Sampson on the thriving British poetry scene

"Moly" by Samuel Beckett

"Untitled" by Samuel Beckett

"Industry Bay" by James Lasdun

"After Sappho" by Rachel Boast

"Beginnings" by Azfa Ali

"On the vanishing of my sister, aged 3, 1965" by John Burnside

Ted Hughes’s “Last Letter” was published in the 11 October 2010 issue of the New Statesman

18 comments

Roselle Angwin's picture

Ooops. Does double the posting give double the emphasis, do you think?

Roselle Angwin's picture

I'm with Adrienne Rich: 'Poetry can save your life.' It acts to rehydrate those many people who, I experience in my one-to-one and groupwork, suffer from a sense of severe dry meaninglessness in our 'culture'.

Roselle Angwin's picture

I'm with Adrienne Rich: 'Poetry can save your life.' It brings a little water to a sense of dry meaninglessness from which so many people, I experience in my one-to-one and group work, suffer severe dehydration.

frances smith's picture

the trouble with poets is they demand so much of us and too often give so little in return.

yes, some poems are very good, but i would have to read an awful lot of poems to find the one i really liked.

whereas the signposting to what might be an enjoyable song to listen to is more reliable.

HTouchstone's picture

Re earlier comment, meant to mention that Anthony Howarth, poet, is British. Hope you feature his poem some time. Narrative, impressionist, a prisoner's escape -
"...No penalty
Free!
Free?
Eyes soar
Through gaps in clouds
Past cathedrals
Between cliffs
Through valleys
Over the highest mountain
The country of the mind..."

Herbert's picture

I only seemed able to read poetry when I lived alone. With a bottle by me and a guarantee of no interruptions. Perhaps that's the answer.

H. Touchstone's picture

Speaking of "rude health", case in point, collection of poems TRAVELLER BEHIND BARS. On web there's text and some audio of poems read by the author, Anthony Howarth. And there's audio of a wonderful poem, CELESTIAL HAMBURGERS, from his next book, TRAVELLER TALES.

Jon Stone's picture

My best answer: because there's a disconnect to do with our education/parenting culture in the early teens that means many of us go from enjoying the musicality/wordplay/cleverness of it as a child to being bored with studying the worthiness of the classics by mid-teens. We misplace the reading skills that allow us to enjoy and judge poetry on its merits and somehow replace it with a half-baked mental tick sheet with questions like: "Does it rhyme? Is it politically engaged? Does it remind me of Mr Wordsworth?"

But there are other factors, amongst which is the failure of many poets and poetry critics to successfully aim their discourse outwards, so as to include a wider readership in the discussion and evaluation of poetry. The language of the criticism has unfortunately acquired the flavour of wine snobbery: a thousand ways of asserting that something is classy as hell, but none of explaining why.

My personal experience is rediscovering poetry at A Level, mostly thanks to a good English teacher. I now have a big damn bookshelf of the stuff. Like any art, its intentions and uses vary hugely. There is no 'poetry does this' reductivism that successfully captures the breadth of philosophy and technique.

nicol's picture

Answer: Because I'm stuck with the Elizabethans and Metaphysics. Such poetry sets a standard I have not found surpassed by any poetry since. Even though I write some myself.

Hikaru22's picture

@Nicol:

I find Elizabethan poetry a bit rough and ready - possibly like the Elizabethans themselves. A bit earthy, ruddy-cheeked, and with a dagger at the waist.

Personally I prefer the poetry of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries - it's more refined, don'cha know....

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