Susan Mitchell, Robert Duncan, J. M. Coetzee

The seventh chapter of Coetzee's Elizabeth Costello is called "Eros"; in it, Elizabeth reflects on two texts, one she just read and one she remembers having read long ago: Susan Mitchell's "Erotikon (A Commentary on 'Amor and Psyche')" and Robert Duncan's "A Poem Beginning with a Line by Pindar." As part of my course on "Elizabeth Costello" and its sources, the students and I each chose a passage from Mitchell, Duncan, and Coetzee this morning and wrote a sentence about it. Here are the passages I chose, and the sentences I wrote.

Mitchell

To see the darkness lifting its skirts. To see the darkness
undressing to deeper and deeper shades, the hiddenness
pleated, folded over on itself, clavichorded and enrinded
into recesses retiring inward —

Here, darkness can both be exposed to the light (when it "lifts its skirts") and still be a source of "hiddenness" in the "pleats" and "folds" of those "skirts."

*

Duncan

In Goya's canvas Cupid and Psyche
have a hurt voluptuous grace
bruised by redemption. The copper light
falling upon the brown boy's slight body
is carnal fate that sends the soul wailing
up from blind innocence, ensnared
    by dimness
into the deprivations of desiring sight.

Here, light, as the end of "blind innocence", reveals "the brown boy's slight body," but it also creates the "snare" of "dimness", making light into a trap for those who would see by it.

*

Coetzee

Are there other modes of being besides what we call the human into which we can enter; and if there are not, what does that say about us and our limitations?

In her discussion of Thomas Nagel, Elizabeth insists that we can "enter into other modes of being" — bats, literary characters, corpses — but here, she seems to have forgotten her insistence on (or lost her belief in) the power of literature to go where philosophy cannot go.

Fragments of Notes on JM Coetzee

Fragments from my notes to "The Humanities in Africa," chapter five of Elizabeth Costello, by J.M. Coetzee

When the work keeps anticipating possible interpretive trains of thought

*

One can see why the Church would want to oppose evolution, beyond the specific details of its stories: evolution/genealogy make it not only impossible but unnecessary to return to an origin that is seen as the truth.

*

The return to the origin is an intellectual effort to overcome the traces of earlier intellectual efforts.

*

    Hostility in an essayistic text generates unease. Since it is inappropriate to express hostility in such a context (especially hostility by the honoree toward those doing the honoring), it demands an explanation. And since hostility is an emotion, and emotion in general is inappropriate (only reason should speak in this space), as is getting emotional about the kind of material that she is talking about—given all that, one turns to the personal for an explanation.
    When the personal intrudes into the space of ideas, it must be contained. And the way to contain it? An ad hominem attack. Those who speak personally will be condemned on personal grounds.

*

The way a story can ruin an idea. One tells a story to exemplify an idea, but then one has to tell the story in such a way that it serves the idea. The excess or surplus in the story can ruin the idea, the point that the storyteller is trying to make.

*

The novel as a type of storytelling that drops the idea of making a point in favor of ... obscenity. — Look at the great novels: what are they condemned for? Obscenity. Flaubert, Joyce. — Look at Plato's condemnation of Homer: what does Plato condemn Homer for? For taking liberties with the story, liberties that are just part of making it a great story, rather than of using the story as a tool of teaching, of philosophy.

"To be sure" in "Emma"

And here are many of the appearances of "to be sure" in Austen's Emma. I really wonder about how to interpret this expression. It's quite slippery. Suggestions?

To be sure

            "That may be, and I may have seen him fifty times, but without having any idea of his name. A young farmer, whether on horseback or on foot, is the very last sort of person to raise my curiosity. The yeomanry are precisely the order of people with whom I feel I can have nothing to do. A degree or two lower, and a creditable appearance might interest me; I might hope to be useful to their families in some way or other. But a farmer can need none of my help, and is, therefore, in one sense, as much above my notice as in every other he is below it."

            "To be sure. Oh yes! It is not likely you should ever have observed him; but he knows you very well indeed—I mean by sight."

*

            "You could not have visited me!" she cried, looking aghast. "No, to be sure you could not; but I never thought of that before. That would have been too dreadful!—What an escape!—Dear Miss Woodhouse, I would not give up the pleasure and honour of being intimate with you for any thing in the world."

*

            "Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her. What is the foolish girl about?"

            "Oh! to be sure," cried Emma, "it is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage. A man always imagines a woman to be ready for any body who asks her."

*

            "Upon my word, Emma, to hear you abusing the reason you have, is almost enough to make me think so too. Better be without sense, than misapply it as you do."

            "To be sure!" cried she playfully. "I know that is the feeling of you all. I know that such a girl as Harriet is exactly what every man delights in—what at once bewitches his senses and satisfies his judgment. Oh! Harriet may pick and chuse. Were you, yourself, ever to marry, she is the very woman for you. And is she, at seventeen, just entering into life, just beginning to be known, to be wondered at because she does not accept the first offer she receives? No—pray let her have time to look about her."

*

            The picture!—How eager he had been about the picture!—and the charade!—and an hundred other circumstances;—how clearly they had seemed to point at Harriet. To be sure, the charade, with its "ready wit"—but then the "soft eyes"—in fact it suited neither; it was a jumble without taste or truth. Who could have seen through such thick-headed nonsense?

*

            Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.

            "Ah!—well—to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend."

*

            "Harriet!" cried Emma, collecting herself resolutely—"Let us understand each other now, without the possibility of farther mistake. Are you speaking of—Mr. Knightley?"

            "To be sure I am. I never could have an idea of any body else—and so I thought you knew. When we talked about him, it was as clear as possible."

Compliments in "Emma"

Compliment

            Mr. Frank Churchill was one of the boasts of Highbury, and a lively curiosity to see him prevailed, though the compliment was so little returned that he had never been there in his life. His coming to visit his father had been often talked of but never achieved.

*

            "I am glad you think so; and the good hands, I hope, may not be wanting."

            "Come," said he, "you are anxious for a compliment, so I will tell you that you have improved her. You have cured her of her school-girl's giggle; she really does you credit."

*

            "There is so pointed, and so particular a meaning in this compliment," said she, "that I cannot have a doubt as to Mr. Elton's intentions. You are his object—and you will soon receive the completest proof of it."

*

            Emma perceived that the nature of his gallantry was a little self-willed, and that he would rather oppose than lose the pleasure of dancing with her; but she took the compliment, and forgave the rest.

*

            "Insufferable woman!" was her immediate exclamation. "Worse than I had supposed. Absolutely insufferable! Knightley!—I could not have believed it. Knightley!—never seen him in her life before, and call him Knightley!—and discover that he is a gentleman! A little upstart, vulgar being, with her Mr. E., and her caro sposo, and her resources, and all her airs of pert pretension and underbred finery. Actually to discover that Mr. Knightley is a gentleman! I doubt whether he will return the compliment, and discover her to be a lady.

*

            "So I remember to have heard. He will find an addition to the society of Highbury when he comes again; that is, if I may presume to call myself an addition. But perhaps he may never have heard of there being such a creature in the world."

            This was too loud a call for a compliment to be passed by, and Mr. Weston, with a very good grace, immediately exclaimed,

            "My dear madam! Nobody but yourself could imagine such a thing possible. Not heard of you!—I believe Mrs. Weston's letters lately have been full of very little else than Mrs. Elton."

*

            "A very fine young man indeed, Mr. Weston. You know I candidly told you I should form my own opinion; and I am happy to say that I am extremely pleased with him.—You may believe me. I never compliment."

*

After a good many compliments to Jane on her dress and look, compliments very quietly and properly taken, Mrs. Elton was evidently wanting to be complimented herself—and it was, "How do you like my gown?—How do you like my trimming?—How has Wright done my hair?"—with many other relative questions, all answered with patient politeness.

*

            "Miss Fairfax's compliments and thanks, but is quite unequal to any exercise."

*

            "John enters like a brother into my happiness," continued Mr. Knightley, "but he is no complimenter; and though I well know him to have, likewise, a most brotherly affection for you, he is so far from making flourishes, that any other young woman might think him rather cool in her praise. But I am not afraid of your seeing what he writes."

Ronald Bush on Pound's "Canto LXXXI"

This afternoon at 1 pm, Ronald Bush of Oxford University will be speaking on Ezra Pound's "Canto LXXXI" at the English Department of the University of Basel. Here's an abstract of his talk.

The ant’s a centaur in his dragon world.
Pull down thy vanity, it is not man
Made courage, or made order, or made grace,
         Pull down thy vanity, I say pull down.

"Wildly, insanely overstated"

I moved to Germany in 1991 (for a year that turned into a lifetime, but that's another story, my life story, as it were) and to Switzerland in 1995. After four years in Germany, and with a German girlfriend (now wife) whose family speaks little or no English, I could speak High German pretty well.

But the Swiss don't speak the same language; they speak Swiss German (in numerous dialects).  There is a Swiss High German, and German speakers in Switzerland do speak it, but it is not their everyday language. They code switch rather easily between their varieties of German (not to mention French, Italian, and English). Many Swiss German speakers switch to High German or English when speaking to me, and even after 18+ years here, I don't speak Swiss German (or Basel German), which I would need to sit down and actually study if I were ever going to do so.

In contrast, when my wife is in Basel, after 13+ years here, she now speaks a mix of High German and Basel German, and she understands the local dialect much better than I do. In this sense, you can see that the two varieties of German, while quite different in many ways, are close enough for a native speaker of High German to pick up enough Basel German to get by, while a non-native speaker like myself can understand it, but picks up very little without extra effort. (That's an anecdote, of course, and not an experiment, so consider that a hypothesis to be tested, rather than a claim being made.)

All this came to mind on reading Geoffrey Pullum's "Undivided by a Common Language." Pullum vigorously argues that the differences between British English and American English, in their standard varieties, "is wildly, insanely overstated." I agree—and especially on the basis of the contrast with the differences between High German and Swiss German. There are many differences in grammar and comprehensibility between the two Germans (and this doesn't even bring up dialects in Germany and Austrian German); there are, as Pullum argues, hardly any grammatical differences between British English and American English, and the ones that do exist are insignificant in terms of comprehensiblity. The differences in vocabulary are considered significant enough for the American publisher of Harry Potter to translate some terms into American English, but even those differences are minor (and almost everyone I mention that to says, "That's ridiculous. People know how to use dictionaries."). But it's a matter of a few words here and there, while a novel written in Swiss German has to be translated into High German for anyone north of Lake Constance to be able to read it.

The differences between British English and American English are indeed "wildly, insanely overstated," especially when contrasted with the differences between High German and Swiss German. One response to this claim might be that I am contrasting two standard varieties in one case and standard and non-standard varieties in the other. But my hypothesis is that a speaker of Southern American English and a speaker of the English spoken in Scotland would be able to communicate much more while sticking to their two varieties than someone from Hamburg and someone from Basel if they also stuck to their two varieties. Now if only someone would test it.

A song for every occasion

My son Miles recently mentioned to me that I have a song lyric to quote for just about every occasion. We spent several days in the Black Forest together, and apparently, I would quote lines whenever I heard a phrase that reminded me of a line. For example, "take it easy" leads me to quote The Eagles. If I hear the phrase "the last day," I'll quote Al Stewart's "The Last Day of June 1934."

Once he pointed it out to me, I began to notice just how often I think of phrases from songs. And I began to wonder whether I think of phrases from poems very often. I certainly quote Eliot's "Let us go then, you and I" all the time—in fact, it crosses my mind whenever someone says "Let's go!" And there are other poems that have tag lines in them that bring them to mind when I hear echoes of those lines.

But mostly it's songs that I quote in such contexts, not poems. For years now, I have argued that poetry and song lyrics should be treated as members of a larger category that I call "verse"; attempts to strictly distinguish poems and lyrics have never been convincing to me. Verse that is not written to be sung tends to have more enjambment than verse that is written to be sung—a side effect of the effect of melody on lineation. But that doesn't seem to me to be enough to say that poetry and lyrics are different in essence.

Miles's observation about my quotation habit suggests a way to articulate another difference between poems and songs. The phrases that lead me to quote songs tend to be unremarkable, even cliched: "take it easy" is an empty little formula, not exceptional at all. There are many more such phrases in lyrics than in poems; in contemporary poetry, formulas and cliches tend to be avoided, while songs are extremely forgiving when it comes to the use of such well-worn language. It's fun to hear a catch phrase and sing along with the singer; it's boring to read a catch phrase in a poem (unless the poem brings it back to life in some way).

That still doesn't seem to me to be enough to strictly distinguish the two kinds of verse from each other. But it helps me understand my quotation habits.

*

For a discussion of my understanding of "verse," see the fourth paragraph of this post.

From Canto IV of Dante's "Inferno," tr. Ciaran Carson

I just had occasion to type this in for George Szirtes, who was asking on Facebook for an English version of Dante's Inferno in terza rima. This is Ciaran Carson's translation, published by Granta Books in 2002.

IV

Shattering the deep sleep in my head,
a peal of thunder rang, so I awoke
confused, like someone shaken out of bed;

and coming to, and getting up, I looked
about with rested eyes to ascertain
where I might be. O such an awful nook!

this was, in truth, the dread Abyss of Pain
whose brink I stood upon, from which there rolled
collective groanings, endlessly sustained.

Dark as a thundercloud was that enormous hole;
so deep, the eye could get no fix on where
it ended; nor could I see any foothold.

'Down into the blind world we must fare,'
began the poet, whiter than a sheet;
'I first, then you, we'll make a goodly pair.'

And I, who'd marked the pallor of his cheek,
said: 'Go? When you, who, when I was in doubt,
was wont to be my strength, appear as weak?'

And he: 'It's when I hear the awful shouts
of those below, that pity drains my face
of color; not cold feet, as you make out.

Onward! a long road lies ahead of us.'

Paco de Lucia

A few minutes ago, I was looking at my 2009 list of jazz artists I have heard live (a list which needs updating), and one of the names I stopped at was Paco de Lucia. I paused for a moment and remembered the concert: the John McLaughlin-Paco de Lucia-Al Di Meola trio, with Steve Morse opening on solo 12-string guitar. I tell two stories about this show: first, the trio's arrangements of the compositions were all very similar. After they played the head, McLaughlin would usually start, and his solo always felt like it was asking a question. De Lucia would then explore the ramifications of that question in his solo. All this was at incredibly high speeds, but then Di Meola would play his solo, and it always seemed like it was even faster—and like he was completely ignoring McLaughlin and de Lucia's previous discussion. From the back, voices could be heard: "Go, Al!" I assumed these were the voices of all the young guitarists who liked to play fast.

The second story: for the encore, Steve Morse came out with his 12-string guitar and sat in with the trio. It was a Chick Corea tune, though I don't remember which one. And Morse took the first solo. For what seemed like the entire first chorus of his solo, he played one note over and over again, bending it to various degrees. It was like a revelation, as not one of the players in the trio had played a single bent note in their two long sets! It was like Morse was saying, "Hey, guys, what about the blues?"

All that went through my head fairly quickly when I was looking at the list, but just now I read that de Lucia died today. I'll always remember his beautiful elaborations on McLaughlin's questions, even if Di Meola seemed to be ignoring John and Paco's conversations.

Poetry Book Society Choices, 1953-2014

As I could not find a complete list of Poetry Book Society Choices anywhere online, I cobbled together this list from three lists on the PBS website (of Choices and Recommendations from 1953-1960, 1961-1970, and 1971-1980) and a Pinterest page of photos of covers of PBS Choices (apparently put together by PBS as well). There are a few gaps in it, so if anyone knows what to put in those gaps, I'd be happy to fill them in. If anyone wants a tabular version of it, feel free to contact me.

Spring 1953 Vernon Watkins The Death Bell Faber

Summer 1953 George Barker A Vision of Beasts and Gods Faber

Autumn 1953 Frances Cornford Collected Poems Cresset

Winter 1953 Sheila Wingfield A Kite's Dinner Cresset

Spring 1954 Laurie Lee My Many Coated Man Andre Deutsch

Summer 1954

Autumn 1954

Winter 1954

Spring 1954

Summer 1955 Lawrence Durrell The Tree of Idleness Faber

Autumn 1955 Robin Skelton Patmos and other Poems Routledge

Winter 1955 Herbert Read Moon's Farm Faber

Spring 1956 Edwin Muir One Foot in Eden Faber

Summer 1956 Spender, Jennings and Muir New Poems 1956 Joseph

Autumn 1956 W S Merwin Green with Beasts Hart Davies

Winter 1956 John Holloway The Minute Marvell

Spring 1957 C A Trypanis The Stones of Troy Faber

Summer 1957 Louis MacNeice Visitations Faber

Autumn 1957 Ted Hughes The Hawk in the Rain Faber

Winter 1957 Theodore Roethke Words for the Wind Secker & Warburg

Spring 1958 Thomas Kinsella Another September Dolmen

Summer 1958 John Smith Excurcus in Autumn Hutchinson

Autumn 1958 A S J Tessimond Selection Putnam

Winter 1958 Macniece, Dobree, Larkin New Poems 1958 Joseph

Spring 1959 Patricia Beer Loss of the Magyar Longmans

Summer 1959 20th Century Women's Verse Faber

Autumn 1959

Winter 1959 Donald Davie The Forests of Lithuania Marvell

Spring 1960 Peter Levi The Gravel Ponds Andre Deustch

Summer 1960 Patrick Kavanagh Come Dance with Kitty Stobling Longman

Autumn 1960 Dom Moraes Poems Eyre & Spottiswoode

Winter 1960 John Betjeman Summoned by Bells John Murray

Spring 1961 David Holbrook Imaginings Putnam

Summer 1961 Elizabeth Jennings Song for a Birth or a Death Andre Deutsch

Autumn 1961 R S Thomas Tares Hart Davis

Winter 1961 Peter Redgrove The Nature of Cold Weather Routledge

Spring 1962 Patrick Creagh A Row of Pharoahs Heinemann

Summer 1962 Dannie Abse Poems Golders Green Hutchinson

Autumn 1962 Thomas Kinsella Downstream Dolmen/OUP

Winter 1962 Michael Baldwin Death On A Live Wire Longmans

Spring 1963 Richard Murphy Sailing to an Island Faber

Summer 1963 Alexander Baird Poems Chatto

Autumn 1963 Louis MacNeice The Burning Perch Faber

Winter 1963 Patricia Beer The Survivors Longmans

Spring 1964 Philip Larkin The Whitsun Weddings Faber

Summer 1964 Donald Davie Events and Wisdoms Routledge

Autumn 1964 C A Trypanis Pompeian Dog Faber

Winter 1964 Patric Dickinson The Cold Universe Chatto

Spring 1965 Sylvia Plath Ariel Faber

Summer 1965 Roy Fuller Buff Andre Deutsch

Autumn 1965 John Holloway Wood and Windfall Routledge

Winter 1965 Kathleen Raine The Hollow Hill Hamilton

Spring 1966 Charles Tomlinson American Scenes and Other Poems OUP

Summer 1966 Anne Halley Between Wars and Other Poems OUP

Autumn 1966 Norman MacCaig Surroundings Chatto

Winter 1966 Peter Redgrove The Force and Other Poems Routledge

Spring 1967 Austin Clarke Old Fashioned Pilgrimage OUP

Summer 1967 John Fuller The Tree that Walked Chatto

Autumn 1967 Thom Gunn Touch Faber

Winter 1967 Thomas Kinsella Nightwalker and Other Poems Dolmen

Spring 1968 Charles Causley Underneath the Water Macmillan

Summer 1968 Roy Fuller New Poems Andre Deutsch

Autumn 1968 Derek Mahon Night Crossing OUP

Winter 1968 R S Thomas Not That He Brought Flowers Hart Davis

Spring 1969 Peter Wiggum The Blue Winged Bee Anvil

Summer 1969 Geoffrey Grigson Ingestion of Ice-Cream

Autumn 1969 Douglas Dunn Terry Street Faber

Winter 1969 David Holbrook Old World New World Rapp & Whiting

Spring 1970 W S Graham Malcolm Mooney’s Land Faber

Summer 1970 Ian Hamilton The Visit Faber

Autumn 1970 Peter Porter The Last of England OUP

Winter 1970 Elizabeth Jennings Lucidities Macmillan

Spring 1971 Thom Gunn Moly Faber

Summer 1971 Geoffrey Hill Mercian Hymns Andre Deutsch

Autumn 1971 Sylvia Plath Winter Trees Faber

Winter 1971 Gavin Ewart The Gavin Ewart Show Trigram

Spring 1972 William Plomer Celebrations Cape

Summer 1972 D J Enright Daughters of Earth Chatto

Autumn 1972 Norman Nicholson A Local Habitation Faber

Winter 1972 Stewart Conn An Ear to the Ground Hutchinson

Spring 1973 John Smith Entering Rooms Chatto

Summer 1973 Edwin Morgan From Glasgow to Saturn Carcanet

Autumn 1973 Michael Burn Out on a Limb Chatto

Winter 1973 Alasdair Maclean From the Wilderness Gollancz

Spring 1974 Geoffrey Holloway Rhine Jump London Mag Ed.

Summer 1974

Autumn 1974 Charles Tomlinson The Way In OUP

Winter 1974 Andrew Waterman Living Room Marvell

Spring 1975 John Cotton Kilroy Was Here Chatto

Summer 1975 Seamus Heaney North Faber

Autumn 1975 Peter Porter Living in a Calm Country OUP

Winter 1975 Vernon Scannell The Loving Game Robson

Spring 1976 George Barker Dialogues etc Faber

Summer 1976 Hugh Maxton The Noise of the Fields Dolmen

Autumn 1976 Thom Gunn Jack Straw's Castle Faber

Winter 1976 Kevin Crossley-Holland The Dream House Andre Deutsch

Spring 1977 Tom Paulin A State of Justice Faber

Summer 1977 Michael Hamburger Real Estate Carcanet

Autumn 1977 W S Graham Implements in Their Places Faber

Winter 1977 Frank Ormsby A Store of Candles OUP

Spring 1978 Peter Porter The Cost of Seriousness OUP

Summer 1978 D J Enright Paradise Illustrated Chatto

Autumn 1978 Geoffrey Hill Tenebrae Andre Deutsch

Winter 1978 Roy Fisher The Thing About Joe Sullivan Carcanet

Spring 1979 Terence Tiller The Singing Mesh Chatto

Summer 1979 Peter Redgrove The Weddings at Nether Powers Routledge

Autumn 1979 Seamus Heaney Fieldwork Faber

Winter 1979 Michael Longley The Echo Gate Secker

Spring 1980 Peter Scupham Summer Places OUP

Summer 1980 Alan Ross Death Valley London Mag Ed.

Autumn 1980 Paul Muldoon Why Brownlee Left Faber

Winter 1980 Alan Brownjohn A Night in the Gazebo Secker

Spring 1981 David Sweetman Looking into the Deep End Faber

Summer 1981 Norman Nicholson Sea to the West Faber 

Autumn 1981 Douglas Dunn St Kilda’s Parliament Faber 

Winter 1981 Peter Redgrove The Apple Broadcast and Other Poems Routledge 

Spring 1982 George Macbeth Poems From O Secker 

Summer 1982 Thom Gunn The Passages of Joy Faber 

Autumn 1982

Winter 1982 Derek Mahon The Hunt by Night OUP 

Spring 1983 John Fuller The Beautiful Inventions Secker 

Summer 1983 Carol Rumens Star Whisper Secker 

Autumn 1983 Paul Muldoon Quoof Faber 

Winter 1983 George Szirtes Short Wave Secker 

Spring 1984 Tom Disch Here I am There You Are Where Were We Hutchinson 

Summer 1984 Iain Crichton Smith The Exiles Carcanet 

Autumn 1984 John Ash The Goodbyes Carcanet 

Winter 1984 Blake Morrison Dark Glasses Chatto 

Spring 1985 Douglas Dunn Elegies Faber 

Summer 1985 Anne Stevenson The Fiction Makers OUP 

Autumn 1985

Winter 1985 Paul Durcan The Berlin Wall Cafe Harvill 

Spring 1986 Frank Orms A Northern Spring Secker

Summer 1986 Dannie Abse Ask the Bloody Horse Hutchinson 

Autumn 1986 Alan Moore Opia Anvil Press 

Winter 1986 Michael Hofmann Acrimony Faber 

Spring 1987 Eavan Boland The Journey and Other Poems Carcanet 

Summer 1987 Seamus Heaney The Haw Lantern Faber 

Autumn 1987 John Ash Disbelief Carcanet 

Winter 1987 Jean Earle Visiting Light Poetry Wales 

Spring 1988 Les Murray The Daylight Moon Carcanet 

Summer 1988 Phillip Gross Air Mines of Mistilla Bloodaxe 

Autumn 1988 Douglas Dunn Northlight Faber 

Winter 1988 Helen Dunmore The Raw Garden Bloodaxe 

Spring 1989

Summer 1989 Peter Reading Perduta Gente Secker 

Autumn 1989 Ted Hughes Wolfwatching Faber 

Winter 1989 Simon Armitage Zoom! Bloodaxe 

Spring 1990 Andrew Greig The Order of the Day Bloodaxe 

Summer 1990 Glyn Maxwell Tale of the Mayor's Son Bloodaxe 

Autumn 1990 Vikram Seth All You who Sleep Tonight Faber 

Winter 1990 Eavan Boland Outside History Carcanet 

Spring 1991 Les Murray Dog Fox Field Carcanet 

Summer 1991 Gerard Woodward Householder Chatto 

Autumn 1991 Dana Gioia The Gods of Winter Peterloo 

Winter 1991 Julie O'Callaghan What's What Bloodaxe 

Spring 1992 David Wright Poems & Versions Carcanet 

Summer 1992 Chase Twichell Perdido Faber 

Autumn 1992 Jo Shapcott Phrase Book OUP 

Winter 1992 Stephen Romer Plato's Ladder OUP 

Spring 1993 Patricia Beer Friend of Heraclitus Carcanet 

Summer 1993 Don Paterson Nil Nil Faber 

Autumn 1993 Stephen Knight Flowering Limbs Bloodaxe 

Winter 1993 James Fenton Out of Danger Penguin 

Spring 1994 Eavan Boland In A Time of Violence Carcanet 

Summer 1994 Hugo Williams Dock Leaves Faber 

Autumn 1994 Paul Muldoon The Annals of Chile Faber 

Winter 1994 Gerard Woodward After the Deafening Chatto 

Spring 1995 Maurice Riordan A Word from the Loki Faber 

Summer 1995 Michael Longley The Ghost Orchid Cape 

Autumn 1995 Bernard O'Donoghue Gunpowder Chatto 

Winter 1995 Glyn Wright Could Have Been Funny Spike 

Spring 1996 Alice Oswald The Thing in the Gap-Stone Stile OUP

Summer 1996 Adrian Mitchell Blue Coffee Bloodaxe 

Autumn 1996 Ciaran Carson Opera Et Cetera Bloodaxe/Gallery 

Winter 1996 Susan Wicks The Clever Daughter Faber 

Spring 1997 Jamie McKendrick The Marble Fly OUP 

Summer 1997 Selima Hill Violet Bloodaxe 

Autumn 1997 Peter Reading Work in Regress Bloodaxe 

Winter 1997 John Hartley Williams Canada Bloodaxe 

Spring 1998 David Harsent A Bird's Idea of Flight Faber 

Summer 1998 Ruth Padel Rembrandt Would Have Loved You Chatto 

Autumn 1998 Ken Smith Wild Root Bloodaxe 

Winter 1998 Jo Shapcott My Life Asleep OUP 

Spring 1999 Bernard O'Donoghue Here Nor There Chatto 

Summer 1999 Michael Hofmann Approximately Nowhere Faber 

Autumn 1999 Carol Ann Duffy The World's Wife Picador 

Winter 1999 Tom Paulin The Wind Dog Faber 

Spring 2000 Alan Jenkins The Drift Chatto 

Summer 2000 Roddy Lumsden The Book of Love Bloodaxe 

Autumn 2000 Michael Donaghy Conjure Picador 

Winter 2000 Douglas Dunn The Year's Afternoon Faber 

Spring 2001 Gillian Alnutt Lintel Bloodaxe 

Summer 2001 Seamus Heaney Electric Light Faber 

Autumn 2001 Selima Hill Bunny Bloodaxe 

Winter 2001 Geoffrey Hill Speech! Speech! Penguin 

Spring 2002 David Harsent Marriage Faber 

Summer 2002 Paul Farley The Ice Age Picador 

Autumn 2002 Geoffrey Hill The Orchards of Syon Penguin 

Winter 2002 Paul Muldoon Moy Sand and Gravel Faber 

Spring 2003 Billy Collins Nine Horses Picador 

Summer 2003 Ian Duhig The Lammas Hireling Picador 

Autumn 2003 Don Paterson Landing Light Faber 

Winter 2003 Jacob Polley The Brink Picador 

Spring 2004 Michael Longley Snow Water Cape 

Summer 2004 Ruth Padel The Soho Leopard Chatto 

Autumn 2004 Kathleen Jamie The Tree House Picador 

Winter 2004 George Szirtes Reel Bloodaxe 

Spring 2005 John Stammers Stolen Love Behaviour Picador 

Summer 2005 Alice Oswald Woods etc Faber 

Autumn 2005 Carol Ann Duffy Rapture Picador 

Winter 2005 Polly Clark Take Me With You Bloodaxe 

Spring 2006 Robin Robertson Swithering Picador 

Summer 2006 Seamus Heaney District and Circle Faber 

Autumn 2006 Paul Muldoon Horse Latitudes Faber 

Winter 2006 Jane Hirshfield After Bloodaxe 

Spring 2007 Ian Duhig The Speed of Dark Picador

Summer 2007 Sarah Maguire The Pomegranates of Kandahar Chatto 

Autumn 2007 Sean O'Brien The Drowned Book Picador 

Winter 2007 Sophie Hannah Pessimism for Beginners Carcanet 

Spring 2008 Ciaran Carson For All We Know Gallery Press 

Summer 2008 Moniza Alvi Europa Bloodaxe 

Autumn 2008 Peter Bennet The Glass Swarm Flambard 

Winter 2008 Mark Doty Theories and Apparitions Cape 

Spring 2009 Alice Oswald Weeds and Wild Flowers Faber 

Summer 2009 Fred D'Aguiar Continental Shelf Carcanet 

Autumn 2009 Hugo Wiliams West End Final Faber 

Winter 2009 Sinead Morrissey Through The Square Window Carcanet 

Spring 2010 Derek Walcott White Egrets Faber 

Summer 2010 Simon Armitage Seeing Stars Faber .

Autumn 2010 Seamus Heaney Human Chain Faber 

Winter 2010 Annie Freud The Mirabelles Picador 

Spring 2011   David Harsent Night Faber 

Summer 2011         Sean O'Brien November Picador 

Autumn 2011   Leontia Flynn Profit and Loss Cape 

Winter 2011  John Kinsella Armour Picador

Spring 2012 Simon Armitage The Death of King Arthur Faber 

Summer 2012 Paul Farley The Dark Film Picador 

Autumn 2012 Jorie Graham P L A C E Carcanet

Winter 2012 Sharon Olds Stag's Leap Cape 

Spring 2013 George Szirtes Bad Machine Bloodaxe 

Summer 2013 Michael Symmons Roberts Drysalter Cape

Autumn 2013 Anne Carson Red Doc > Cape

Winter 2013 Moniza Alvi At the Time of Partition Bloodaxe

Spring 2014 John Burnside All One Breath Cape