#270 The Honicknowle Book of the Dead (2009)

Author: Kenny Knight
Title: The Honicknowle Book of the Dead
Genre: Poetry
Year: 2009
Pages: 100
Origin: bought from the library for 50p
Nod Rating: 2 nods out of 5

 

The Worm first read about this intriguing book in a local paper a few years ago; the Worm was especially thankful for Kenny Knight referencing the interesting Lobsang Rampa. So, when a copy was stumbled on in a library book sale, fifty pence was eagerly parted with in order to obtain it. It held a particular fascination with the Worm due to the local dimension, especially with the area of Honicknowle residing within the Worm’s hometown.

Kenny Knight is a poet of talent, and for the first third of this book he held the Worm’s attentions. The local aspect was trumpeted up with the connection of memory, rock and roll and the monarchy; the childhood of the poet was brought to life in a surreal manner. However, when the collection of poems failed to expand from this premise it became a dull and incredibly self-involved read. The narrative kept repeating the same old themes and ideas, especially the referencing of The Honicknowle Book of the Dead time and again!

“Yes,” you may say, “of course poets are self-involved! That is the very nature of their work and it springs forward truth and honesty.” That may be true, but at least new ideas need to be explored. As it stands, The Honicknowle Book of the Dead may have served better as a longer, single poem. However, the Worm is still thankful for the poet bringing forth the history of Lobsang Rampa. If you do not know this person, please use Wikipedia immediately.

#260 Leaves of Grass (1892)

Author: Walt Whitman
Title: Leaves of Grass (Deathbed Edition)
Genre: Poetry
Year: 1892
Pages: 400
Origin: read on the iPad
Nod Rating: 2 nods out of 5

 

For a long time Leaves of Grass has held a fascination with the Worm. A seeming modest collection of poems, the book has a long list of admirers from its initial date of publication to the present day. The Worm has gazed at various publications of the collection in many book-shops, always wondering whether or not to take the plunge. Such is Whitman’s association with America – and late nineteenth-century American history – that the Worm was scared off due to not knowing enough about the period to really savour and enjoy his supposed talent for stringing words together.

The Worm was able to download Leaves of Grass recently. However, unfortunately for him, it was not the modest volume thumbed on many a book-case, but rather the final edition of Whitman’s collection. Due to spending the bulk of his life revising and rewriting his initial publication from 1855, the final “death-bed” edition of Leaves of Grass runs to over four-hundred poems.

Ah, the Worm hears you say, quality and quantity: what a rare treat. Indeed, dear reader, both of those Qs together is a rare treat. But such a treat is not to be found within the pages of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Allow the Worm to explain why…

Firstly, the scope of this collection of poems is too vast to be about anything in particular. A short volume is succinct and allows the writer and poet to express their thoughts and feelings on a subject. But four hundred poems? Why does Whitman need four hundred poems to say what other poets could say in ten? Whitman attempts to encompass as much as possible about American culture as it then stood in the late-nineteenth century. However, by doing this he runs the risk of becoming all sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Whitman’s tool for attempting to cover everything: listing. This is a technique used in order to outline basic information. Whitman uses it – armed with the almighty comma – as a poetry technique. We’re given a list on the American vastness, on its people, on its past, on its potential, the paving-man, the canal boy, the conductor, the child, the regatta, the drover, the peddler, the bride, the opium-eater, the prostitute, the crowd, the President: list, list, list! Rather than poetry it reads like a sermon, a Bible of lists of America.

This “listing” technique is further exacerbated by the lack of any rhyme or meter. Words are chucked together, with no regard for length, structure, or fluidity. Whitman continues to rewrite throughout his life, but seemingly, he does not edit. More words and piled on top of one another, forever hoping to get to the heart of the matter in what he truly means to say. But despite the words stacking up, true meaning seems to elude him. Rather than take a step back to think about such meaning Whitman continues to scoop on the words, one after the over, until us – the readers – have our bellies filled with sickly prose.

Now, such words appear to be harsh. They are meant to be harsh. However, the Worm did manage to enjoy or poem or two of this ridiculously massive collection. There are lines to be enjoyed: ‘Who goes there? Hankering, gross, mystical, nude; How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?’ Regrettably, such lines are hemmed within a sea of merciless listing.

Before his death, Whitman noted how he wished for the final “death-bed” edition to supersede all previous ones. The next time the Worm touches Whitman it will be the first edition of Leaves of Grass only. Life is far too short to wade through the listing that Whitman should be – but seemingly isn’t - infamous for. But such is Whitman’s legend and hold over the United States of America, the Worm is not holding out for such a critique to gain any foundation.

 
Read all about it here

#221 The Best of Betjeman (1978)

Author: John Betjeman
Title: The Best of Betjeman
Genre: Poetry/Prose
Year: 1978
Pages: 340
Origin: bought from a second-hand bookshop
Nod Rating: 4 nods out of 5

‘Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn’t fit for humans now,
There isn’t grass to graze a cow
Swarm over, Death!’

This is, of course, the famous first verse from Betjeman’s poem ‘Slough’, initially published in 1937 before the outbreak of the Second World War. Although probably Betjeman’s mostly often uttered words, it is just one poem in a larger collection put together in the late 1970s by John Guest. The Worm came into this collection with limited background knowledge on Betjeman, but having decided to plough through the Poet Laureates of Britain’s past (having already read and reviewed a book from both Carol Ann Duffy and Andrew Motion) the Worm found a well-preserved copy of The Best of Betjeman, thereby giving ample opportunity to delve into the work of Britain’s Poet Laureate between the years 1972 and 1984.

Betjeman was a popular poet, in that the greater public – and not just those few who part with their pence to buy a volume every now and then – knew of him. He was a poet for the growth of the media age, appearing on both radio and television. Furthermore, he wrote poetry in a Britain that endured some of its worst and horrifying moments (the falling bombs of the Second World War, economic uncertainty, and the decline of empire), as well as some of its most fantastic occasions (V-Day, the arrival of the NHS, and the Britain when – apparently - ‘it never had it so good’). Suffice to say, this collection – spanning five decades – shows the country during its changing moods.

The Best of Betjeman contains poems taken from the major works of the poet’s career, including Zion (1932), Continual Dew (1937), Old Lights for New Chancels (1940), New Bats in Old Belfries (1945), Selected Poems (1948), A Few Late Chrysanthemums (1954), Collected Poems (1958), High and Low (1966), and A Nip in the Air (1974). Furthermore, the collection also includes a vast sum of Betjeman’s prose work, including many writings from English Parish Churches (something that Guest makes ‘no apology’ for), and Metro-land, a script written for television. All of this allows the reader to confidently state that the book is a comprehensive gathering of Betjeman’s most famous and quality work.

Favourite reads for the Worm include ‘Death in Leamington’ (the first poem in this collection), ‘Trebetherick’, ‘Group Life: Letchworth’, ‘In Westminster Abbey’, ‘Henley-On-Thames’, and the short yet intriguing ‘In a Bath Teashop’. As can be easily deduced by these titles alone, Betjeman was a thoroughly English poet. His words reflect his own attitudes: a man tightly bound to the Victorian world and its values. As such, he was a man increasingly “out of time” during the course of his life, however, his work frequently succeeded in striking a chord with a nation that was not ready to jettison its once illustrious past. Other writers and musicians remained attached to Britain’s past, with the Worm recalling The Kinks lyrics to 'The Village Green Preservation Society': ‘We are the village green preservation society… God save strawberry jam and all the different varieties…God save little shops, china cups, and virginity…’ What The Kinks done for pop music, Betjeman done in the written word.

This satirical eye on the change within the country – a transformation of Merry Old England – is found in his most famous poem (yes, it’s that one again): ‘Slough’. He warns of the conflict and horror caused by an industrialising society, one that dismisses its past with a sneer and whole-heartedly embraces new technology without a thought on what is being lost. In many ways, it predicts the later malaise within British society; this is a theme picked up by many other writers, including the turn of the century show The Office; set where else than Slough itself.

It would be a lie for the Worm to call himself a big fan of Betjeman’s work. In the recent book-reading season the Worm has had the pleasure in devouring other poets, including that of T.S. Eliot. Both of these writers are distinctly different, but yet they remain bound in their critical view of the changing world. Such output by these two clearly shows just how wide and diverse the world of poetry can be.

The Best of Betjeman is probably the most comprehensive edition that be ever be sought after for those unacquainted with Betjeman’s work. It is one that makes the reader thoroughly British, leaving a hankering to visit many of the towns and places mentioned by the author. As for the Worm, he goes in search of books and collections from the Poet Laureates on either side of Betjeman’s tenure: Ted Hughes or Cecil-Day Lewis. Which one will be first to the Worm’s reading-table? You dear readers will simply have to wait. O, the excitement!

Buy it here