{"id":335,"date":"2011-08-02T11:00:00","date_gmt":"2011-08-02T11:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=335"},"modified":"2020-12-09T14:38:54","modified_gmt":"2020-12-09T14:38:54","slug":"mark-burnhope-reviews-the-privilege-of-rain-by-david-swann","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/mark-burnhope-reviews-the-privilege-of-rain-by-david-swann\/","title":{"rendered":"Mark Burnhope reviews 'The Privilege of Rain' by David Swann"},"content":{"rendered":"

Folk Behind Bars<\/span>

The Privilege of Rain<\/span><\/a>, David Swann, Waterloo Press 2010, \u00a310<\/span><\/p>\n

David Swann\u2019s first collection springs directly from his time as Writer in Residence at HMP Nottingham Prison. It poses a number of questions: how much humanity should we grant prisoners? Is this humanity enhanced or diminished by the system? <\/p>\n

The social aspect of his project lends it a weight of interest which is matched by a weight of responsibility: it might be voyeuristic, a poet\u2019s vanity project. It could romanticize or glorify the lives of prisoners, trivializing their crimes and patronizing victims. If the place, subtitle (Time Among the Sherwood Outlaws<\/span>), section headings, and certain poems overcook the Robin Hood angle, the work risks being stripped of any social necessity. Do we need yet another prison legend?<\/p>\n

The poems are sorted into three sections \u2013 Seed, Sap and Stump<\/span> \u2013 suggesting roots, growth; strength, weakness; softness, hardness. The first, \u2018The Prison has One Beautiful Tree\u2019 recalls the Bible\u2019s use of tree images, as well as all the poems which have used it since, which Don Paterson satirizes in \u2018Two Trees\u2019, from Rain<\/span>. Thankfully, \u2018trees\u2019 is not all this<\/span> poem is about; its transformation into an isolated robbery victim makes sure of that: \u2018Then the wind comes in like a robber, \/ stuffs its pockets with colour, \/ and goes where three hundred men \/ yearn to follow.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018The Roar\u2019 puts a name to the anger felt by caged men: \u2018This thing inside the scream \/ and all around it\u2019. As a keyhole shot of a feeling (\u2018which can\u2019t be named or touched\u2019) it feels hampered by abstractions. The question of whether language can faithfully represent anything at all has been a favourite of modern poetry, and poets\u2019 have had varying levels of trust in it (\u2018even broken speech presumes\u2019, wrote Geoffrey Hill). Here, I\u2019m reminded of Edward Munch\u2019s painting \u2018The Scream\u2019, in which violent rage is given a striking face. I have to wonder whether some things are best portrayed visually.<\/p>\n

I love books that use disparate forms, genres, patterns, visual art. Many of the poems are accompanied by Clare Dunne\u2019s evocative wood cuttings. The poems themselves are variations on story and lyric, drawing from history as much as the present. The satirical \u2018Prison Ballad of the Prison Ballad\u2019, in classic ballad stanzas, pays fine attention to sound (\u2018walled-in\u2019 \/ \u2018where men\u2019):<\/p>\n

X came to a walled-in place
Where men craved earth and sky.
He saw the wire, he saw the bars,
And he began to cry\u2026<\/p>\n

Several poems speak effectively of the purgatory between past and future freedom. \u2018Ancient Welsh Poetry\u2019 is a folksong, incantation and statement:<\/p>\n

    I have been a football searching for a boot
    I have been a sheep parted from its flock
    I have been a key that won\u2019t fit its lock
    I have been the seed that never took root<\/p>\n

\u2018Mike\u2019s Girl\u2019 tells the story of her violent partner: \u2018I told him straight, \/ it\u2019s either me or the weapons. \/ You get them weapons \/ out this house \/ or I walk\u2019. A girl \u2018On the Far Side of The Wall\u2019 introduces herself in a voice which is matter-of-fact, with an ironic, ballad-esque music: \u2018My name is Margaret Tracey \/ And the fella I married\u2019s in jail.\u2019 \u2018Prison Visit\u2019, a haiku, is an emotive snapshot of institutionalization: \u2018A long afternoon, \/ watching wind in the trees. \/ Maybe she won\u2019t come.\u2019<\/p>\n

The poems are interspersed with prose pieces (including \u2018The Privilege of Rain I\u2019 and \u2018II\u2019). They feel fairly lengthy and dense in comparison, and might have deserved a set of their own, being more short story than prose poem. They seem to want to occupy a different headspace. However, their more conventional narration does provide a counterpoint to the mythology and lyricism elsewhere. The clash of genres could be said to reflect the system \u2013 which collects together strangers, like poems. And many pieces feel essential, like \u2018First Day\u2019 (even if \u2018The Route of the Arrow\u2019 could be Robin Hood overkill).<\/p>\n

Despite some misgivings, The Privilege of Rain<\/span> is often richly imaginative, and explores a worthy subject. I applaud its variety of form, as well as the aims of its project: to break down the walls between institution and reader. As for the ethical questions, they\u2019re left for us to answer individually. The hero of \u2018Said in an Evening Class\u2019, a slant-rhymed heroic couplet, says it best:<\/p>\n

    He says he\u2019s worked it out, this writing game:
    \u2018The reader\u2019s free; don\u2019t shut the door on him.\u2019<\/p>\n

<\/font><\/p>\n

….reviewed by <\/span>Mark Burnhope<\/a>
<\/font><\/div>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Folk Behind BarsThe Privilege of Rain, David Swann, Waterloo Press 2010, \u00a310 David Swann\u2019s first collection springs directly from his time as Writer in Residence at HMP Nottingham Prison. It poses a number of questions: how much humanity should we grant prisoners? Is this humanity enhanced or diminished by the system? The social aspect of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=335"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23773,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335\/revisions\/23773"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}