Tag Archives: Penelope Shuttle

Noah by Penelope Shuttle (Broken Sleep Books)

Noah by Penelope Shuttle (Broken Sleep Books)

Noah is a fascinating slim collection of poems birthed out of Old English dictionaries that belonged to Penelope Shuttle’s husband Peter Redgrove and a medieval mystery play about Noah’s Ark. The poems describe ‘Captain Noah’s’ engagement with the animals he rescues from the deluge God sends, and which he packs into a wooden ark, although there are occasional sideways visits to Cornwall, archaeology and mythological creatures such as the phoenix.

The sequence starts in a fairly traditional manner, retelling the story as Noah collects the beasts, makes speeches and directs things, but by the end of the second poem, ‘Lady Eve’, there is temporal disruption as Shuttle notes ‘the Ark wasn’t always a toy’ and then compares the boat to the USS Gerald Ford, the largest aircraft carrier in the world. The same kind of slippage occurs in the next poem, ‘deluge’ where the loaded ark goes ‘sailing past all dangers’, which turn out to be historical, yet post-Biblical times, in nature.

Elsewhere, animals are the narrators of poems, whilst others describe and report what the animals are thinking and doing, or re-present ‘Noah’s notes’. Meanwhile, in ‘firebird’ the phoenix swaggers up the gangplank after a dialogue with Noah that makes me think of Pete & Dud, as does ‘Noah and God: a conversation’ a few pages later. Elsewhere the authenticity of the story is undercut as Shuttle notes that 

     the pseudo-archaeologists have been searching

     for the Ark since 339 C.E.

     even though there’s no sign of a flood

     in the geological record (‘Archa Noah’)

and as ‘Noah Theatre’ comes to an end, after the narrative is explained at length, when Shuttle tells us that Noah takes his wife 

                          away on a mere promise from god

     who has never spoken a word to her,

     taken into exile because of a stupid hunch her old man had about the weather.

Other poems re-interpret the story in light of both contemporaneous and later stories, nothing that ‘Noah’s Wyf’ is not named in the traditional Scriptures but is in an excluded text, where she is Emzara. There are also poems about animals no longer known to us, poems that make use of other texts, including some in Old English, and poems written aslant to the story, my favourite being ‘although the text of the play is lost’, which is assembled from records of payment in Hull for ‘acting and equipment’.

In the final poem, ‘exodus’, all the animals exit from the ark ‘in a noisy joyous rout, failing to thank Noah for saving their lives, more intent on ‘claim[ing] what is theirs’, which is ‘our earth / the queen of planets’. Shuttle suggests however, that in this day and age our world may now be ‘ a charred warning’ to any aliens ‘nudging through our galaxy’.

The book ends with some brief footnotes about source material, and also a fascinating short text, ‘Behind the Poem’, previously written for the Poetry Society, where Shuttle talks about ‘reading various poems translated from the Anglo-Saxon, and pootling about through some Old English poems and tracts’, in addition to explaining her writing and drafting process. I like the osmosis that has allowed different vocabularies and ideas into these poems, just as I agree with her assessment of bible stories being magic and rich, ‘mystical, not theology.’ 

This is a delightful, original and playful reversioning, one where Emzara ‘want[s] another ark’

     with a drawing room

     and a fernery

     no smelly animals

     and the complete absence of Noah (‘That she hadde a shipe hirself allone’)

and Noah, ‘on his five-hundredth birthday’, prays to the doubting animals:

     pray for me Lord Lion

     pray for us Holy Ghost Koala

Amen to that.

Rupert Loydell 26th October 2023

Broken Sleep Books Anthology 2021 edited by Aaron Kent and Charlie Baylis (Broken Sleep Books)

Broken Sleep Books Anthology 2021 edited by Aaron Kent and Charlie Baylis (Broken Sleep Books)

This is the annual anthology of Broken Sleep Books, a series they’ve been running since 2018, and includes short extracts, generally about five or so pages from all the titles they’ve published this year, arranged chronologically by date of publication. It is then something of a voluminous sampler, or advertisement, a way of catching up on the press’s activities this year past. As such I think it reflects the publisher’s variousness with a spirit of innovation and verve, one of the most imaginative of small presses for innovative writing right now.

So what are Broken Sleep books about? Publisher Aaron Kent professes himself to be ‘a working-class writer and publisher from Cornwall’, though he now finds himself in Wales. Charlie Baylis is ‘Chief Editorial Advisor’. Aaron has published this year, both poetry and prose, while Charlie has not, though he has earlier titles out from the press.

This is a very full volume, unostentatiously designed, featuring 41 poets and 12 prose writers. It might be admitted that the chronological presentation is a little scattershot and doesn’t manage to reflect too much in the way of thematic clusters, but this is hardly crucial. If you go to the Broken Sleep website you will find that they profess to be ‘A press where community action, inclusivity, and innovation are at the forefront’. This strikes me as very apt. In a publishing environment where the likes of Faber, Cape or Carcanet are well illustrating the mainstream, Broken Sleep are coming from the margins, though this spirit of ‘inclusivity’ being such might suggest that marginality is not fully what they’d wish for; they are, as it were, an alternative press that perhaps harbours a few mainstream ambitions.

The book does not really reflect nor try to what it thinks might be the highlights of the last year. That is left to the reader. The presentation is equal and egalitarian. There are many unfamiliar names here. A few that might be recognised would possibly include Luke Kennard, SJ Fowler, David Wheatley or Aaron Kent himself, who had a book out from Shearsman this year.

I think the press has been very adventurous in taking on a number of, as it were, unknown entities. They don’t seem to be looking for a writing pedigree of past accomplishments, titles being favoured on their merits.

This can be a mixed blessing. There’s a strong sense that much of this material is experiential writing, all to the good. And much of it either unexpected or inventive. And yet in terms of literary accomplishment I sensed little that might be definitive; there is a battling around literary form, but few here whom one might say are exceptional in craft, rather than just very good.

I can note a few highlights. Here is Razielle Aigen,-

                 separated us all winter long

            from Little Italy and think to ourselves

            how well we kept our balance

            between how much everything mattered

            and how easy it was to erase. (p108)

which I think is very finely expressed, and there are moments like this occurring intermittently in the course of the book.

There are a few one might say scandalous poems, such as Alyson Hallett and Penelope Shuttle’s ‘12’ which begins

            fuck handwashing

            fuck the sanitizer fuck the mask

            fuck the gloves o ex-cuse me (p246)

where the coarseness of language is quite bracing or outre, but is at least consistent with the candour of personal expression and experience, and can be amusing at times, as we find in

            I hate it when people are devoted to pure, sky-fucking jouissance (p262)

by Simon Barraclough.

There are very likely enough of these moments to guide us through the book; it can be a good one just to leaf through. Yet I do wonder if it leans more to the experiential than the literary. For instance there is a very interesting excerpt from Gregory Leadbetter and Phil Thomson (photography) which blends the visual and the written together in quite affecting, captivating way

And yet is something missing? The real guides ushering this book along are surely Kent and Baylis themselves. I would have to conclude that we’re lacking the presence of what one might say big hitters. There seem to be few specific authors they are trying hard to get behind, rather than reflecting a diverse community.

So one is left with a sense of accomplishment, but only so far. The egalitarian arrangement is commendable. Yet the reluctance to hit on key authors or themes is a bit frustrating. Has the press arrived at a stage where it wants to nurture specific authors, eg as a Cape or Faber might do? So I would suggest that this book as sampler is much to be welcomed. However, there is something of a lack of putting it into context. What does it all add up to? To an extent this is a new direction in publishing. Yet to compare for example Bloodaxe’s Staying Alive series there is room yet to give more focus and shape to the publisher’s roster of capable and adventurous writers.

Clark Allison 13th December 2021