End of the Real Life bits and pieces (still with books)

[lady_schrapnell]

Finally, back to my visit to Bristol the weekend before last. I've wanted to go to a Quaker meeting ever since reading Elfrida Vipont's Lark in the Morn and Lark on the Wing when I was a child. This desire was only exacerbated by reading a book a bit later, which was possibly mostly soppy romance, but which I loved anyway - though I read it from some library or other and after moving away from wherever, could never remember the name or author.

So, on the Sunday, despite the decidedly inclement weather, we headed off to nearby Frenchay, where Charlie'd been to the meeting, but only years before. We got there about in time, saw what he took to be the right place, parked across the road, and got absolutely drenched running up to the door. Only once we got to the door, it didn't look so very Quakerish... We won't mention any swearing that might have been done when I noticed a notice saying it was the Unitarian chapel (though I hope the congregation didn't hear it). But back off to the car, with me less and less convinced that this was such a good idea. All right for Charlie, but I did not want to go in late to my first ever Quaker meeting!

But we found it, and in time, amazingly enough. Though decidedly damper than one would want for an hour of sitting. The room was exactly as I'd have imagined - and hoped for - the building from the very early 1800s, a squarish small room with some benches and chairs, a central table with a big bunch of autumnal flowers, old unvarnished pine panelling on the walls, and two large (original) windows - nice Georgian style. Three people spoke over the course of the hour, and nothing was earth-shattering, but it was all simple and sincere - and funnily enough, all about gifts and using them. The long-ago conversation on the DWJ list about the same topic (arising from a discussion of Howl's Moving Castle) having been very important in the chain of synchronicity and serendipity that led me to start the BA in literature with the OU makes it a pretty meaningful topic for me.

All in all, I really liked it enormously and my Anglican-raised-and-practicing self was very comfortable in such a different style of worship. After, there were some announcements, and then an invitation to coffee and tea. Part of the announcements included mention that U.A. Fanthorpe would be at an event in Bristol, talking about Quakers in the arts, and that there was a copy of a poem she'd written about this particular meeting. A great poem, we both thought. The name didn't immediately ring any bells, but Charlie reminded me that sartorias had posted a poem by her just a week or two earlier.

So we got talking to the person who'd made the announcements and brought the poem, and over the course of the chit-chat I mentioned the Vipont books, which he of course knew. And then he asked whether I was 'into novels' and mentioned this other novel about Quakers - called I Take Thee, Serenity - which was (no huge surprise to anyone reading this, no doubt) the nameless book I'd loved and lost! I bounced and squeaked a bit, and it turned out he used to have a publishing company, and they'd reprinted this back in the late 80s. And there was to have been a film - with Judi Densch and Ben Kingsley (no idea who was to have played the young characters, but can't imagine it could have missed with those two!). Sadly, the company went out of business and the film didn't happen... Anyway, I've ordered myself a copy: feeling a little bit scared to read it, in case it turns out to be less wonderful than I remembered, but it'll be interesting whatever.

And funnily enough, when I got home and googled U.A. Fanthorpe, I found I did know one of her poems, 'Atlas', though I hadn't registered her name. Probably I read it in the wonderful Being Alive. And - this is just odd - when I went to find the poem just now to include it, the first hit was from a marriage ceremony of some couple who got married in the Frenchay Unitarian chapel. Cue spooky music...

Atlas

There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it

Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;

Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentists

And Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholds

The permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.

And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.

Comments

[fjm.livejournal.com]

The poem is perfect.

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

Do you know the meeting one? I'll try to find it (or get Charlie to) and post it if I can too.

[dorianegray.livejournal.com]

That's a wonderful poem. Thank you for posting it.

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked it! I love both Staying Alive and Being Alive - full of poems like that - intelligent but not TOO daunting. (I'm very easily intimidated by modern poetry.)

[dorianegray.livejournal.com]

Goodness! How does that work? I don't think I've ever found any work of literature intimidating. Annoying, badly written, pointless, over-clever, and many other things, but not intimidating.

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

You're clearly just less neurotic than I am (which we've probably already established!). Not quite sure why, and hadn't much thought about it until I started to write this reply and rejected a few partial attempts. I'm less sure what's going on with poetry I don't like/get than I am with (most) novels, I think. And my first reaction - unless I just hate it - tends to be that I'm not bright enough to get it. Or at least that I'm not versed (oops - not intentional!) enough in how to read modern poetry to do it justice. It can work the other way too - we studied some (not terribly well-known) poetry on the 20th century lit course that I ended up loving - though I'd probably not have had the confidence to attribute so much value to it had it not been validated by being there to study. Yeah, it's more than a bit daft to be so opinionated and unsure at the same time!

[dorianegray.livejournal.com]

::grin:: Well, I'm neurotic in certain areas. But when it comes to literature, to me, it's all down to "did the author make it work (for me)?". If I don't "get it", well, that's the author's fault, not mine. Yes, as you know, I can be pretty arrogant at times.

But I've been writing poetry for 20+ years (and reading it for rather longer). I know how much crap can be produced in the name of poetry. I've produced some of it.

But if a poem doesn't grab you...well, either the poet failed to do her job, or you weren't her target audience. Either way, no skin off your nose. And no shame in saying "sorry, this means nothing to me".

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Take a look at her poem on Tolkien...

[steepholm.livejournal.com]

That's rather lovely too (I say, having just read it on your LJ). I loved the part about signposts as war memorials, and the dog-wagging tails that put words before mouths, and legs before the landscape they walk in.

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

She's a remarkable poet, indeed.

[lady-schrapnell.livejournal.com]

Oh yes! Don't know how I missed that when you first posted, but it's wonderful. Going to have to keep a look-out for one/all of her books - none in my local library system, but shouldn't be that hard to find. I hope.