- Reflect on the importance of the
Ingrid Jonker prize on your career.
The
Jonker prize was, first of all, affirming. I was new to the craft-work (though
not the writing), of poetry, and felt shy about publishing. Four years later, I
feel I have learned much more about the craft (there were things in missing I would change now, if I
could). But, primarily, the IJ prize encouraged me to keep reading and
learning. And gave me the confidence to continue writing. It’s easy to forget
how terrifying it is to start submitting poems for public scrutiny.
- Your title A Private Audience versus your working-title Spring Tide .
The
theme of the sea, its moodiness and fluctuations, was picked up by Ben Grib,
who illustrated the book. This despite us (Dryad Press and myself) having
changed the title to A
Private Audience by the time
he received the manuscript. I was
delighted Ben chose the imagery he did. The eponymous poem of the working-title
Spring Tide looks at resistance and change
through the extended metaphor of a tidal pool. From both personal and political
aspects this felt like an apt title for the collection. But ultimately, A Private Audience, (taken from the last poem of the
collection) signals more complexity and depth for me. It marks what Emily
Dickinson refers to as the “hallowed” nature of what we enter when we approach
poetry. Carol Anne Duffy says poetry is like a prayer. Beneath the “prayers” in
this collection I hope readers will discover the sea in both its turmoil and
serenity.
- Your poems centre on a private
relationship with your family. Do you see this as a “betrayal” ?
I’m
glad you asked this. I’m often questioned as to how I can write about such
“personal” subjects. And I suppose there is a sense in which speaking about
private relationships could be seen as a betrayal. (Though in this era of
Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, it’s pretty difficult to keep secrets.)
Ultimately,
it’s irrelevant to me whether something (or everything) in a poem really
happened or not. Readers wishing to follow this route must draw their own
conclusions. My chief concern is with the common humanity emanating from the individual
situation that propels a poem. “Out of the quarrels with ourselves, “ Yeats
wrote, “we make poetry.” I hope the particular situations and “quarrels” I use
as a starting-point, have been crafted into something more universal.
If I
don’t tap the inner wall of the secret, the unspeakable, the scary and sublime,
I may as well not write poetry. My father – around whom many of the poems in
this collection are centred, and to whom it’s dedicated – was a deeply complex
man. His saving grace was that he was broad-minded enough to own to his
imperfections. This was a tone he set for his family. I hope readers will find
a rounded, conflicting, puzzling and ultimately compassionate picture of
humanity (not just one human being) in them.
- List of your favourite poets
This
fluctuates and expands, but here are some on the permanent list:
Emily Dickinson
Louise Glück
Philip Levine
Les Murray
Seamus Heaney
Sylvia Plath
Elizabeth Bishop
- How do you see the SA literary
scene ?
Exciting.
Enlivening. The advantage of having so many languages in this country is the
spectrum of rich and fresh ideas, themes and imagery it provides. From the more
established English and Afrikaans poets, to Nathan Trantraal and Ronelda
Kamfer’s Kaaps collections, to writers in Xhosa and Zulu etc., there are some
fascinating voices.
Afrikaans
poetry, I’ve recently discovered, is involved in some lively collections and
debates. It’s refreshing to see people become so passionate about poetry. Until
now, I’d read mostly English poems or translations. I’ve rediscovered the
privilege of reading another language. I’m also (very slowly) honing up my
Xhosa to get to the point where I can read that more easily. At this stage,
even translations are revelatory.
There
are some dynamic new voices emerging. I’m looking forward to reading Koleka
Putuma’s Collective Amnesia,
as I’ve watched her recite “Water” on YouTube. I think she’s someone to watch.
If I
have qualms, it’s about the craft of poetry often taking second place to the
speediness of publication. Sometimes I’ll read a debut poet with an exciting
new voice, but feel that a little more editing and crafting could have turned
what remains a good collection, into something sensational.
Presses
like Modjadji, Uhlanga and Dryad evince the passion for poetry in this country,
and for finding new voices. Poetry is a tough sell, but these publishers refuse
to be doused by cynicism, and are injecting new life into the project.
As
an aside: I remain saddened that someone like Gus Ferguson, who put so much of
his life (and savings) into poetry, remains unacknowledged by the larger
public. Gus has been such a generous mentor to many poets, and his own works
are no less skilled for their being so humorous. In my eyes, he should be
declared a National Treasure.