2012 Forward Prize Awarded to Jorie Graham

First US woman to win beats Geoffrey Hill to the £10,000 prize.

Last night at Somerset House the 2012 Forward Prize was awarded to the American poet Jorie Graham for her latest collection P L A C E (Carcanet). Graham, about whom the New York Times has written, “For 30 years Jorie Graham has engaged the whole human contraption – intellectual, global, domestic, apocalyptic – rather than the narrow emotional slice of it most often reserved for poems,” is yet to receive much attention in the UK. Chicago’s Poetry Foundation refer to her as “perhaps the most celebrated poet of the American post-war generation.”

The coveted award for Best First Collection (£5,000) went to Sam Riviere for 81 Austerities, which began life as a blog applauded by Ruth Padel as “a vision of a world ruled by twin demons, Austerity and Information Overload.” Riviere is, alongside his many online, print and performance projects, currently studying for a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia. We published a poem from the collection, “When it came”, earlier this year, which you can read online by clicking here.

The prize for Best Single Poem went to Denise Riley, whose poem “A Part Song” was published by the London Review of Books in February. The poem deals with the poet’s grief following the death of her son, neatly arranged into stanzas which paradoxically imply the experience is all but monovocal: “She do the bereaved in different voices / For the point of this address is to prod / And shepherd you back within range / Of my strained ears”. Leonie Rushford, chair of the judges, said “A Part Song struck us all powerfully. It is a really searing poem”.

P L A C E, which defeated stiff competition from Oxford’s Professor of Poetry Geoffrey Hill and Australian poet Barry Hill, “explores the ways in which our imagination, intuition, and experience – increasingly devalued by a culture that regards them as ‘mere’ subjectivity – aid us in navigating a world moving blindly towards its own annihilation”. The collection opens on Omaha Beach in Normandy on 5th June, the day before the anniversary of the “historical” 6th, when the allied forces landed on the beach, also known as the D-Day landings. Graham is the first ever American woman to win the prize, and the first female recipient since 2004. Rushforth said of the collection: “It is a challenging collection of unusual force and originality, forging connections between inner experience and a world in crisis.”

The Forward Book of Poetry, a collection of winning and highly commended poems from this year’s prize, will be published on Thursday, National Poetry Day, by Faber and Faber.

Someset House, venue for last night's Forward Prize ceremony. Photograph: Getty Images.

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Brexit… Leg-sit

A new poem by Jo-Ella Sarich. 

Forgot Brexit. An ostrich just walked into the room. Actually,
forget ostriches too. Armadillos also have legs, and shoulder plates
like a Kardashian.  Then I walked in, the other version of me, the one
with legs like wilding pines, when all of them

are the lumberjacks. Forget forests. Carbon sinks are down
this month; Switzerland is the neutral territory
that carved out an island for itself. My body
is the battleground you sketch. My body is
the greenfield development, and you
are the heavy earthmoving equipment. Forget
the artillery in the hills
and the rooftops opening up like nesting boxes. Forget about

the arms race. Cheekbones are the new upper arms
since Michelle lost out to Melania. My cheekbones
are the Horsehead Nebula and you are the Russians
at warp speed. Race you to the finish. North Korea

will go away if you stop thinking
about it. South Korea will, too. Stop thinking
about my sternum. Stop thinking about
the intricacy of my mitochondria. Thigh gaps
are the new wage gaps, and mine is like
the space between the redwood stand
and the plane headed for the mountains. Look,

I’ve pulled up a presentation
with seven different eschatologies
you might like to try. Forget that my arms
are the yellow tape around the heritage tree. Forget
about my exoskeleton. Forget
that the hermit crab
has no shell of its own. Forget that the crab ever
walked sideways into the room.
Pay attention, people.

Jo-Ella Sarich is a New Zealand-based lawyer and poet. Her poems have appeared in the Galway Review and the Poetry New Zealand Yearbook 2017.

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear