Tag Archives: Gregory Betts

Some Lines of Poetry from the notebooks of bpNichol, edited by Derek Beaulieu and Gregory Betts (Coach House Books)

Some Lines of Poetry from the notebooks of bpNichol, edited by Derek Beaulieu and Gregory Betts (Coach House Books)

bpNichol is not well known in Britain, although he crops up here and there in anthologies and reviews, and is a big name in the Canada poetry world. He died in 1988 and this book was published to celebrate what would have been Nichol’s 80th birthday. 

The book is a healthy and surprising mix of outtakes, works-in-progress, poetics, notes, translations, homages, visual poems and a lecture, revealing the myriad influences and confluences that informed Nichol’s writing. 

His visual poems are as likely to be concrete and typewritten as hand drawn, and in several places, he works on an idea in several iterations and variations. For instance, ‘fish swimming out of alphabet’ is opposite ‘nothing swimming out of alphabet’, both composed on the same day; and, elsewhere five ‘Turin texts’.

Sometimes, the mutating texts or drawings are laugh-out-loud funny, other times they are elusive and obscure: ‘some lines of poetry’ simply extends lines out from a handwritten word, poetry, down from the stem of the p, up and across from the t, up from the final loop of the y, whilst the bird of ‘Seascape With Bird’ is the u lifting off from a handwritten seagull. Both are wonderful, but despite knowing who Kurt Schwitters is and what he wrote, I do not ‘get’ the drawn shape of ‘Homage to Schwitters’.

When he is most successful, Nichols’ work reminds of me of Robert Lax’s. Playful, focussed and profound, with just enough going on to make a point, to draw attention to a facet of language or experience, to make the reader think, to say something in a different way.

Elsewhere in this beautiful paperback edition, work seems less finished, with various examples of annotations, ideas and possible revisions. Arrows suggest digressions or flights of associative imagination, sometimes it seems that poems are first imagined as instructions or diagrams rather than language, whilst ‘IM: mortality play’ presents revisions and scribbled notes in a far more traditional way.

The piece I have reread the most, however is the lengthy closer ‘Don’t Forget the Author’ a transcript of a 1985 lecture given at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. Despite being a formal piece, it is in many ways the most personal and revealing work in the book and is an intelligent and informed piece of writing – along with the discussion that followed the lecture – about writing, editing and publishing, in the widest sense.

So, although there is mention of marketing and sales here, there is much more about writerly intent, contractual negotiations, book design, freelancing, audiences and reader/writer expectations and relationships. It’s clear that Nichol was a realist, sometimes prepared to compromise, but also that he positioned himself within the (mostly) small press world to get the work and books he wanted published, published in the way he wanted. 

The poems here evidence a playful, generous spirit. Yes, the work is often experimental, but it invites the reader in, to wander and wonder, whilst the lecture is serious but also self-deprecating, amusing and truthful. The same spirit informs the editor’s foreword, enticing readers to read on, to engage with what they call ‘Nichol’s wild, free literary thinking’, noting further on that ‘[h]is range is, as always, astonishing.’

Considering that this, as the blurb puts it, ‘is a map of hidden corners’ and ‘a guidebook to poetic play’, I am looking forward to engaging further with bpNichol’s main body of work.

Rupert Loydell 25th February 2025

Bardcode by Gregory Betts (Penteract Press)

Bardcode by Gregory Betts (Penteract Press)

Are the grids of coloured squares in this hardback book visual art, conceptual writing, asemic writing, concrete poetry or a Shakespearean joke? In his Preface Philip Terry uses the phrase data poem, which is technically correct and a useful description but does nothing to convey the sheer beauty and complexity of the work.

Greg Betts has translated the sounds in Shakespeare’s sonnets into colours and each of the 154 poems into grids, highlighting not only the syllabic count and Shakespeare’s playful disruption of it at times, but also the numerous rhymes throughout all the poems. Terry notes that ‘the music in Shakespeare’s Sonnets is not confined to end-rhymes, but is there in every syllable of every poem, demonstrating how the sounds of the poems are literally orchestrated, making liberal use of internal rhyme and repetitive sound patternings and modulations of form and colour to weave their complex music.’

‘So what?’ you might say, or ‘I knew that’, but Terry quite rightly points out that Betts’ unusual ‘translations’ are a form of original research, a methodology that could be used with other texts to understand and evidence the complexities of structure and form.

Betts has previous for this kind of slippage between text and art, unexpected sideways movements as the result of intelligent and playful lateral thinking and cross-curricular activity. One of my favourites, an early work from 2006, is the haikube, a Rubik’s cube (or a beautiful handmade wooden version of it) with words on that can generate small, imagistic poems when rotated. I use the book version which documents this work with my students – it’s simplicity and outcomes are a good way to introduce and discuss visual texts, processual writing and to move their understanding or poetry away from ‘self-expression’, the dead weight that many writers drag behind them.

What is hard to convey in a review is simply how exquisite these visual poems are. The various blurb writers use words such as ‘jewelled’, ‘heatmap’, ‘glow & shimmer’, ‘chromatic’ and ‘rainbow’s tune’, not to mention ideas of synesthesia, colour-coding and stained glass. Flick through the pages and the poems seem hypnotically repetitive yet each one is utterly different, similar but never duplicate; the colours constantly change and, here and there, extra syllables stray into the right hand margin, disrupting the grid, unbalancing the page.

The block of only 12 lines that comprise Sonnet 126 is visually shocking when it appears, the three extra syllables of the fifth line of Sonnet 118 creep almost to the very edge of the page, and at first glance Sonnet 154 appears to have less syllables in its final line, although closer inspection reveals two pale squares representing unusual and gentle sounds. 

There is a colour code at the back for those inclined to understand more and follow the process further, no doubt with Shakespeare’s original poems to hand, but I prefer to luxuriate in the deconstructed versions Betts presents us with, their singleminded focus on pattern and repetition, rhythm, rhyme and frequency, Bett’s clever and original mapping of language.

Rupert Loydell 15th September 2024

Find out more about the BardCode project at https://apothecaryarchive.com/bardcode-projects