You Are Here, a poetry show: Colette Bryce, Daljit Nagra and Jo Shapcott

20
January 2010, Norwich Arts Centre

An interesting evening. When I bought my ticket from the venue, five days in advance, it was
numbered only 34 and I had the sinking feeling that once again I’d be sitting
in a small audience in a large venue watching first-rate poets who’d travelled
hundreds of miles to be here. Needn’t have worried, as it turned out: tickets were also available from
other outlets and, apparently, offered two-for-the-price-of-one online in the
days leading up to the performance. 
If that was the marketing strategy, it certainly worked and the
130-seater auditorium was almost full.

The event was subtitled ‘a poetry show’, as opposed to a plain, old poetry
reading. This was because the
performance had been choreographed, with the three readers on stage together
most of the time, but moving between a limited number of props, eg some
chairs and a table. The programme
says the person responsible once directed a play called Two Women and a Chair! In fact, it was a valiant attempt at overcoming the usually static nature
of poetry.

Did it work? Well, yes – but I only wish they’d
moved slightly less frequently.  As
it was, I found myself anticipating the next shift-round, rather like that
drama warm-up game: ‘Sit, Stand, Lie Down’. However, a lot of people present didn’t find it obtrusive
and opinion remained split. When
the chair was placed upside down on the floor with someone kneeling behind it,
I thought it might represent a pew – especially as the choreographed pouring
and drinking of water by the poets also seemed to be ritualistic – but maybe
not. Two of them got the wrong
glass at one point (well, it was the opening night); hope no-one had ‘flu.  And does the fact that the audience
noted this mean that action had overtaken words as the focus of attention? Perhaps, at times – but I’m still glad
this production had the courage to try a different approach and see what poetry
can do/what can be done with poetry. 

Of course, there have always been performance poets who take a more
active stance, but these were page poets writing about identity; no chance of
anyone here whipping out their little ukulele – although Colette Bryce did tell
a joke. As part of the 30% of the British population with some Irish culture-and-heritage, have to
say my toes curled when she did that joke
about Jesus being Irish (well, Derryman, Kerryman – insert the county of your
choice). You know: thirty-three,
unmarried and living at home with his parents. However, most of the feedback I heard was that Ms Bryce was
the preferred turn of the evening, with her tinkling slant-rhymes and twinkly
delivery, so perhaps it was just the massive chip on my shoulder that prevented
me from finding this funny. Certainly
her poems about the leaving of Derry addressed the nature of belonging more
directly than Jo Shapcott’s sophisticated imagery regarding illness and its
impact upon self-image. 

But for me,
the star of the show was Daljit Nagra – OK, I admit it: I was already a fan and
turned out on a freezing January night especially to see him. And I wasn’t disappointed: all the
chairs and other presentational devices just fell away as he stood (or sat)
open-handed and told us in deceptively simple language about the harsh things
of life, e.g. In A White Town: ‘She
never looked like other boys’ mums… 
That’s why I’d bin the letters about parents’ evenings’. My toes curled again, but in a
completely different way, as decades vanished and I was once again that little
girl with tawny curls and freckles who thought she was East Anglian and didn’t
understand why (during The Troubles) strangers in the street would shout things
in her face, like: ‘Oi, Paddy!  Why
don’t you fuck off back where you come from?’ And now here I sat in the audience, listening to the
crushing blows experienced by optimistic Asian people and trying not to cry, ashamed
at the decades of dyeing my hair yellow. This is what poetry is supposed to do…

You Are
Here has another ten dates on its tour of England this year. It comes in at under an hour in length
(no interval), but only costs £7 and is more engaging than some theatrical
shows costing over three times as much. All the poets are assured and interesting: there’s something for
everyone – you pays your money and you takes your choice. Bring a pen, as the programme contains
a detailed audience questionnaire.