Paul
Farley
The
background.
Paul
Farley grew up in Liverpool and studied painting in Chelsea. He’s won (or been
shortlisted) for a sack full of prizes including the TS Eliot award. As well as
publishing poetry on the page he’s been a big name on the radio waves, broadcasting
poetry and drama. Check out a fuller list here.
Why this
poet?
Paul was
my poetry tutor back in the days when I was a teeny weeny undergrad at
Lancaster University. At the time I don’t think I realised just how great a poet
he was. We’d go to the pub, he’d recite dirty limericks and tell us horrifying
and hilarious stories. His poetry has an awesome musical quality to it which
comes through on the page, but hearing it is even better. His book titles
remind me of Stereophonics songs for some reason, which is no bad thing: “The
Boy from the Chemist is Here to See You” and “Tramp in Flames” for example. His
poetic voice is unique and full of charisma, and his poems expertly capture a
sense of time and place, tackling difficult issues with a combination of subtlety
and flamboyance.
A poem
extract
(from “Tramp
in Flames”, in the collection “Tramp in Flames” Picador, 2006)
Some
similes act like heat shields for re-entry
to reality:
a tramp in flames on the floor.
We can say
Flame on! to invoke the Human Torch
From the
Fantastic Four. We can switch to art
[...]
my uncle
said the burning bodies rose
like Draculas
from their boxes.
But
his layers
burn brightly
and the salts locked in his hems
give off
the colours of a Roman candle
[...]
in the
middle of the city he was born in,
and the
bin bags melt and fuse him to the pavement
and a pool
forms like the way he wet himself
sat on the
school floor forty years before,
and then
the hand goes up. The hand goes up.
A reading
That same
old issue, of course – this is just an extract, albeit about half the poem.
Farley is
a master of “turning the line”, which is to say that the lines shift meaning depending on how you read them. Any line in his poems
stands well on its own, but then look what happens when you read the line
before it, or the one after: it changes subtly but significantly. Let’s look at
an example...
Some
similes act like heat shields for re-entry
to reality:
a tramp in flames on the floor.
We can say
Flame on! to invoke the Human Torch
Taken on
its own “to reality: a tramp in flames on the floor.” hits hard. The narrator instructs us of the reality of a man burning in the streets. It’s almost
dismissive; this person is “a tramp”, somehow not a human or fully formed character. We learn nothing
of him until the end, only his title of “tramp”.
Now attach
the first line to it ("Some similes act like heat shields for re-entry to reality:
a tramp in flames on the floor.") Suddenly we’re in a kind of literary outer
space in which similes protect us from the reality of a burning man. It’s
completely true, think about how we talk about death. We rarely say, “I’m sorry
x person is dead.” We say “he’s passed on”, “he’s no longer with us”. It’s a
simile for death but we use it to soften the blow, as a heat shield against the
fire of reality, which is too hot to handle.
And then
join the last line to the second (to reality: a tramp in flames on the floor. We
can say Flame on! to invoke the Human
Torch). It’s a cruel joke, isn’t it? The narrator suddenly moves away from reality, perhaps
because they can’t take the image, and they turn it into a bit of a joke by
comparing the man to the Human Torch from Marvel comic books.
What is it
saying then? We placate ourselves and ignore the cruel reality of what is
happening. Later the poem refers to “the city he was born in” and the tramp’s life at school when he’s (we assume) asking for help: “and then the hand goes
up. The hand goes up.” Even here,
Farley’s challenging how we read the line. “The hand goes up” in class to ask
for help, and he stresses it again (The
hand goes up.) to show the LACK of help. Is this poem really about someone
burning? Well, it could have happened or simply be imagined. But it seems to be suggesting that we, as
individuals and a society, find reasons to ignore social inequalities and those
who need help, not only when they’re adults but also throughout their lives. Choosing ignorance is what causes the problem, the burning.
This is
only my take on the poem, of course, but I strongly encourage anyone to take a
look at this poem for themselves. “Turning the line” (I’ve just made that up by
the way, I’m sure it has a proper name) is something Farley is a master of, but
his poems have such a powerful voice that frequently capture time and location
so brilliantly. Reading him is a masterclass in impactful and thoughtful verse.
Go read...
The Dark Film (Picador, 2012). - this one was shortlisted for the TS Eliot prize
