Wales Album: visiting Meri Wells, part one

Wandering, I find pottery guardians in the garden.
Am I in Wales?  Elsewhere, I think.

A glimpse of the ceramics studio and sheep field beyond,
with a table topped with an old piece of slate
that Meri traded for some concrete blocks.

A headless and quartered creature
pinned to the boards!

Meri Wells's studio, with a view of field and mountain.

Here I am rambling the yard--
earth alive with little scenes,
cunning nooks and crannies and surprises.



Table offerings...



Guard of the boundary between realms?
Warrior shepherd who bars the way?

A peep at the seventeenth-century house.
The thick flagstones inside are laid
directly on the ground, and sometimes
shift when the field mice tunnel underneath.



Maen hir of clay, pierced for looking

into another world.

Monolith among the bluebells.

Tea in the cool Welsh afternoon.

Meri Wells and Clive Hicks Jenkins,

with Peter Wakelin taking his ease on the grass.





The House of Words (no. 24): Dave Bonta and internet publishing, 5

Dave takes a picture at Rhoneymeade--
arboretum, sculpture garden, and labyrinth.

Back to The House of Words after travels in the Carolinas and Wales, where I met Dave Bonta in the flesh at Ty Isaf. He is as remarkable a fellow as one would imagine, after meeting him on his blog, and so he is one of the many reasons that I am glad that I drove to North Carolina, hopped on planes in Asheville and Atlanta and Paris, and managed to make it from the Birmingham train station to Aberytswyth without being carried away to parts unknown at the challenge-to-pronunciation Machynlleth, where the train splits and goes in several directions. And now, more of the wisdom of Dave...

MY: I’m thinking in particular of a number of writer (or ex-writer) friends and acquaintances who have grown dark and discouraged over time, and who might have done as you have done — perhaps not exactly the same, as not many have either your freedoms or your interest in multiple forms. What sort of online alternative activities or forms would you recommend to such writers?

DB: Hmm. Well, It's easy enough to start a blog at a site like WordPress.com, but not every writer is sufficiently gregarious to be able to build up an audience (more on that below). But there are hundreds and hundreds of good online magazines looking for content — the Links page of qarrtsiluni is a good place to start. I would also point out that poetry can be worked into any number of other online media. It's not hard to accumulate Twitter followers with poetic updates, for example, and Facebook will accommodate poetry as well as anything else if you really want friends and family to read your stuff. And for someone who has technical skills and is willing to learn new things, online audio and video platforms such as Jamendo and YouTube are still chronically underexploited by poets.

From Dave's ramblings at Plummer's Hollow:
wood frog eggs anchored to a stick
in an ephemeral spring pool. April 2008.

MY: You have made so many interesting acquaintances through your online presence; do you think that such relationships give you the sense of fullness and belonging that so many writers appear to lack?

DB: I suppose so. In general, I think the best medicine for the kind of discouragement you mentioned in your previous question is to join a community of writers, online or in real life, and focus on the writing rather than the writer. A lot of writers are way too self-absorbed, so I suppose they'll remain dissatisfied no matter how successful they get.

Dave at home in Plummer's Hollow, 2008.
He  takes a picture of a tattered Compton tortoise shell.

Maggie's interview and more

HOME SILLY-SWEET HOME
N & Dad coming home from the track meet while I unload the car of my gear for Wales and North Carolina, along with sundry rocks and gifts and plants from my mother's garden.

N, age 13: Squints eyes, looks at a license on the car ahead.
N: "A mind is like a parakeet."
Dad, age 50: "No, it says a mind is like a parachute."
N: "No, parakeet."
Dad: "No, parachute. They both work best when open."
N: "I'll prove it to you."
Dad: "How?"
N: "Does parachute have a Q in it?"
Dad: "No, but neither does parakeet."
N: "Oh, yeah."

FROM ABERYSTWYTH, WALES
TO CULLOWHEE, NORTH CAROLINA:
WITH THANKS (written May 14)

I'm nearing the end of my long trip from upstate New York to western North Carolina to Wales to North Carolina to New York. When I get home, I'll post some pictures and stories from the astonishing and grand parade of events in honor of the 60th birthday retrospective show for artist Clive Hicks-Jenkins, held at the the lovely (and large--what a grand collection of paintings!) Gregynog Gallery of The National Library of Wales.

As Carroll says, I had a perfectly frabjous time, callooh, callay! 60th birthday retrospectives only come around once and are a great honor. Likewise, invitations to be a part of such things only come once. I owe my husband many thanks for holding the family fort and letting me be free to wander the world, and I owe Peter Wakelin and Clive many thanks for inviting me to stay and play the country house visitor with a houseful of artists and writers. And thanks to you, the Dear Reader, for returning to me here!

MAGGIE TOBIAS INTERVIEW
Reprinted with permission of "The Sylva Herald"

The bright and lovely Maggie Tobias has written two articles about me in the past weeks, and I post something from them here, before they vanish into archives. She did endow me with more books than I have written (The Throne of Psyche is number eight, unless one counts editions, and five are forthcoming. However, I shall take the extras as a challenge!) I answered her interview questions at 2:00 a.m. at the kitchen table of Ty Isaf, in the Istwyth valley of Wales.

Youmans discusses writing, family, new poetry book
By Maggie Tobias  May 12, 2011


Tonight (Thursday) at City Lights Bookstore, author Marly Youmans will read from her new collection of poetry – “The Throne of Psyche” – at 7 p.m. Her new poems examine the boundaries between what is human and what is not, between the earthly world and the otherwordly.

The title poem “The Throne of Psyche” tells the story of the union of Eros, the Greek god of love, and Psyche, a mortal girl.

Stories of transformations and metamorphoses are a constant in the collection, and Youmans’ delicate language gives her poems a certain seriousness.

Youmans, who grew up in Cullowhee, is the daughter of Mary Youmans of Cullowhee and the late Hubert Youmans. She now lives in Cooperstown, N.Y., with her husband and three children.

She’s written several dozen other books, which include novellas and short stories, including “Claire,” “The Wolf Pit,” “Catherwood,” “Ingledove,” “Little Jordan,” and “Curse of the Raven Mocker.”

The Herald caught up with Youmans before tonight’s reading to get her views on poetry, writing and family – and how she balances all three.

Herald: Why did you choose the title poem? Is the story of Psyche special to you?

Youmans: The story of Psyche is wonderful to work with because it takes place in a highly colored, physical world, and yet it also is the story of the progress of a soul. The tale is dramatic and moves from Earth to hell to paradise. It is a great adventure that is always ready for transformation.

Herald: Are you looking forward to reading your work in Sylva?

Youmans: I’m always pleased to read in Sylva, though this time I have hardly had a chance to think about it because I am in Wales and for the next three days will be participating in some very big events. I’ll get to Cullowhee and have a day to get over being jet-lagged, so I may be a bit wired.

Herald: What’s your favorite part about visiting the mountains?

Youmans: My mother is a fascinating though overly modest woman who is always up to something interesting in her gardening or weaving. And my eldest son is at Mars Hill College, so I get to bring him to Cullowhee. I love eating Southern food and seeing shadbush or sourwood, pink shell or flame azalea in bloom. I always feel glad driving South when the land begins to rise.

Herald: Can you describe your style of poetry?

Youmans: My poems are formal – by that I mean that I take advantage of all the tools of poetry. I write metrical poetry, and I am not adverse to rhyme. I like a singing quality and “swing” in poetry. Since I also write short stories and novels, I am keen for my poetry to be as unlike fiction as possible; that’s one reason that I am drawn to form. Another reason is that I feel comfortable and happy pushing words around into formal, muscular shapes. I don’t ask other poets to do likewise, but it is my way.

Herald: Was there ever a time when you wrote for recognition or fame?

Youmans: I’m afraid that “recognition and fame” are qualities that sit uneasily with English-language poetry in the 21st century. I never think about such things because humility toward the art and toward the written work of the past is the proper stance for a writer, as I see it.

My concern is never for what praise it may find, though I am always happy when people like my work and it receives the tribute of some honor. But real honor lies in being true to the work.

Herald: Does poetry satisfy something that fiction doesn’t? Do you have different audiences for your different types of writing?

Youmans: My feeling about fiction versus poetry is that all my writing comes from the same fount but flows into different shapes. That said, the lyric gush of short poetry is a lovely sensation.

Herald: What does poetry do for the reader?

Youmans: It is not useful; it is not a tool to better oneself. At its best, a poem is a portal to what Chaucer called “larger life” and is a means to joy. It is possible to become lost in a poem, to be transformed, if only momentarily. It is a kind of fruitful self-forgetfulness, good for the soul.

Herald: How early did you begin writing?

Youmans: My mother says that she knew I would be a writer when I was in second grade; that is, the year I turned 6.

Herald: Do you keep a tight work schedule?

Youmans: No, I do not keep a regular, rigid schedule. I doubt that any writer who is the mother of three can do so. I write whenever I can. I have several useful qualities that help me get work done: I have an ability to get back into a piece very quickly, and I have an unusually good capacity for concentration.

Herald: Where do you do your writing?

Youmans: I write wherever and whenever I can. Because my life is complicated, I cannot afford to be fussy about such things, or to insist on having special comforts around me when I write. Again, I can’t be a mother of three and be particular about my when and where.

Herald: Do you ever go back and reread your books and short stories?

Youmans: I do not reread my fiction once it is published unless I am revising for inclusion in an anthology. Occasionally I reread a poem, but one rereads so much while revising; when it is out in the world, it is gone – given away to the people who read it.

Herald: How about your husband. Is he supportive? What is the secret to the longevity of your relationship?

Youmans: My husband cooks dinner most nights, and that is a huge gift to a woman who is a writer. He is also a father who helps with children, who goes on Scout trips and teaches Sunday School. We have many common tastes and see the world in similar ways.

Herald: How are you able to write so much?

Youmans: Writing is a great joy to me. The act of bringing something new into the world brings pleasure.

Herald: Do you write for an ideal reader or a particular audience?

Youmans: I’ve never quite understood questions about the reader one writes for – when something new pours out, I am not considering my reader. I am caught up and lost in the stream of words. If I lose myself in them, what I write will find its proper readers.

MORE MAGGIERY

On May 5th, The Sylva Herald printed another of Maggie's articles about me, publicizing the upcoming reading. One remark she made reminded me of my mother-in-law, long ago asking why I didn't write a nice little bestseller! Luckily I am not roiled and tormented by such an idea...  

Here is a clip:

Youmans has written in every genre, and does it all with joy and lyricism. With her open approach to all writing styles and lack of concern for the politics of publishing and bestseller lists, Youmans may never run out of material.

Why I simply cannot pronounce Welsh

Standing, l-r: Callum James. Dave Bonta.
Seated, l-r: Damian Walford Davies, Ian Hamilton
who read for the late Catriona Urquhart, Andrea Selch,
Clive Hicks-Jenkins, and Marly Youmans.
The reading at Aberystwyth University Art Centre
for The Book of Ystwyth: Six poets on the art of Clive Hicks-Jenkins.
Photo from Clive's Artlog.

One of the challenges of reading a poem with Welsh words in it was sounds so strange they reminded me of a cat with hairballs. Then there's that weird sound where you blow air from each side of your mouth at once...

Anyway, the following sums up why a goodly amount of fiery (yes, I have raging Welshmen and Welshwomen in my family tree, revolters from British rule, heroes and heroines of the wild, wild Southern end of the American Revolution) Welsh blood in my veins does not help me to pronounce. 

You may or may not know that there is a hymn tune called Llanfair. In the states, a popular hymn to that tune is "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," a song often heard at Easter. The name of the tune comes from the first two syllables of a Welsh village, Llanfairpwyllgwyngyllgogery-chwyrndobwllantysiliogogogoch. I am sorely, sorely afraid that I missed a pair of l's while copying that down... The name means something like this: The Church of St. Mary in the hollow of white hazel near the fast-running whirlpool of the church of St. Tysillio beside the red cave.

Now that is wondrous and beautiful and a poem of a name but impossible, isn't it?

Alighting from Wales: Cullowhee, the valley of lilies

Robin Rudd takes a picture. May 12.

More on Wales, travels, and The House of Words after I make it to Cooperstown...

Here is a picture with me at the middle level of the house in Cullowhee, taken by Robin Rudd (aka Robin Egg), one of my students from last summer when I was writer-in-residence at Hollins. Robin has just finished her M.F.A. there and came up from Greenville, South Carolina for my reading at City Lights in Sylva. The dogwood peeping from right is in astonishing bloom this year.

Robin Rudd takes another picture! May 12.
The view from where I am sitting in the first picture.

And here is Robin with her alarming Shadow.

Were he a Pullmanesque daimon, I'd be worried for Miss Egg.