Tag Archives: war poets

Fried Rice Leftovers

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Rice, people say, is dangerous to eat as leftovers. Fortunately I had been eating it for years without being ill, so when I was told about it I already knew it was perfectly safe. All you have to do is cool it and store it in the fridge after cooking. That’s what you should do with everything, apart from the parts of a rocket. That’s because it’s not rocket science. (Add a couple of drum beats and a clash of cymbals after the punchline.) There is no advice on what to do when your kitchen is colder than the fridge, as mine often is in winter, but I’m pretty sure all options are safe at that temperature.

I’m going to look foolish if I’m suddenly seized by a bout of intestinal Armageddon (which could start in as little as 30 minutes according to the NHS website) but I will at least look thinner by the end of it, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Think of it as salmonella chic, rather than pale and haggard. It’s actually Bacillus Cereus rather than Salmonella but Salmonella fits better.  One of it’s side effects, according to an article I just read, is death. This is a bit strange, as I’ve never seen death listed as a side effect before. It’s usually considered to be quite serious.

Magpie in the snow

I’ve been away with the fairies this afternoon – starting with a search for the Sitwell family and continuing with Nancy Cunard and Edward Tennant, amongst others – a fine bunch of people to pass an afternoon with.

I always wonder why some people listed as war poets are on the memorial in Westminster Abbey and some aren’t. It seems unkind, after all they went through, to suggest the quality of the poetry might be the reason, particularly as some of the poets on the memorial wrote a few clunkers. I’m particularly thinking of Rupert Brooke, who is not a favourite of mine, but there are others. Here is a selection from Tennant, who is not on the memorial. He was quite clearly a brave and efficient soldier but I’m not convinced by the poetry.

Later, I slept whilst sitting at the computer and was wakened when my leg started to make a ringing sound. It was Julia ringing to tell tell me she was on her way home. She came home with hamburgers, which was nice. As a result we had soup for tea as I have to keep my calories down. It’s hard work losing weight when your wife is determined to feed you up.

Snowdrops at Ruddington

I thought I’d put some snow pictures in, as we move ever closer to the threatened February snow. We often have our worst winter weather in February so I’m not sure why snow in February is news. The December snow never arrived. Nor has the January snow, so far. I’ll be happy to avoid it in February too, as I’m happier to see it on TV than on the ground.

Book Review – Some Desperate Glory

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Some Desperate Glory

Max Egremont

Picador (2015)

Paperback 335 pp  £9.99

ISBN-10: 0374280320

ISBN-13: 9780374280321

This book is trying to do too much at once. It’s a history of the Great War, a book of biographies, a poetry book and, cynically, a book to take advantage of the centenary.

As eagle-eyed readers will have deduced from the £1 sticker in the picture, booksellers obviously found it difficult to shift.

My first observation, before even opening it, is simply that I can’t think why any writer would re-use such a well known title. I know it’s a good quote, but when I hear it I always think of Edwin Campion Vaughan’s memoirs. It’s confusing, to say the least.

It was heavy going to start, though it did get easier towards the end, and proved to be worth the effort. Trying to fit history, biography and poetry into a flowing narrative is tough, and it isn’t helped when you have to fit the origins of the war in too. It flows better towards the end: by then the history is simpler and many of the poets are dead  or recovering from wounds.

There are eleven of them in the beginning – in the army, joining the army or thinking about joining the army. By the Armistice there are five left. It’s a tragedy, but it does help the flow of the book.

Finally, why just eleven poets? The eleven selected subjects are all listed on the War Poet Memorial in Westminster Abbey. What’s wrong with the other five? No Aldington, no Binyon, no Gibson, no Jones and no Read.

Then of course, there is the question of the war poets who weren’t amongst the 16 on the memorial. I won’t try to address the question, as it would double the length of the review and the internet is already bulging with material of dubious worth.

Anyway, to cut to the chase. I enjoyed it in the end, though I did struggle at first. It felt like I was being lectured at times, and the way the narrative was interwoven made it difficult to get into a reading rhythm. It was worth reading for the information and context, but wasn’t really a pleasurable read.

I’m currently halfway through reading And All Roads Lead to France. It concentrates on Thomas and poetry preceding the war, so it isn’t a direct replacement for Egremont’s book. But it is a pleasure to read, and proves that it is possible to cover a broad area and still keep it readable.

I’d recommend Some Desperate Glory as an overview of some of the poetry of the Great War with the proviso that it is limited in scope and you will have to work at it.