Ghastly
|
In this collection, Carol-Ann Duffy concentrates on a variety of issues, including herself, herself and herself. As is nearly always the case with contemporary women poets, she makes a big song and dance about the fact that she's a woman, instead of just ignoring that fact altogether, as should be the case.
Instead, she makes an issue about it, since this seems to be one of the few ways that a woman can get her poetry published. Periods, relationships, vanity and various other cliched topics are all fair game and all approached with the usual lack of depth and authenticity that is required for a woman poet to have even half a chance of being published. Hence, there is nothing remotely interesting here, let alone challenging.
One particularly tired technique used is writing in Scottish dialect. Janet Paisley also uses this technique, achieving a similarly dull and infuriating result. If she had written her poetry in Gaelic, I would have admired her more, even though I cannot understand Gaelic. I would have admired her more because Gaelic is an actual language, whereas 'Scottish' is not. 'Scottish' is a dialect, and not even a particularly attractive one at that. It sounds unrefined, and frankly, ugly - and this is coming from a person who has lived in Scotland for 20 odd years. This doesn't even touch on the fact that it limits the readership of her poetry. Anyone other than a Scottish person simply won't understand words like 'dug' (dog), or 'kenned' (knew). Besides which, the use of these words doesn't ring particularly ring true. People don't even use words like 'kenned' in Scotland. In the context in which it is used, it would read 'kent'. All this serves to do is highlight the contrivance and lack of sincerity in Duffy's writing. She has probably never spoken in Scottish slang in her life. She is merely using it to marginalise her poetry and give a small-time publisher something 'local' to market. Such insincere gimmickry is infuriating.
The poetry itself is poorly written, stilted and awkward. It lacks grace, finesse, or anything to convey. It has no level of originality and no excitement. It is also lacking in ambition and probably of no interest to anyone other than the author herself. Generally, it all has the same awkward, obscure format of the majority of contemporary poetry. Having precious little to convey seems to be the 'in' thing.
Duffy also lacks the ability to make readers care about any of her chosen topics. The likes of 'My Favourite Drink' is so lacking in any kind of conviction that one can almost imagine Duffy falling asleep whilst writing it. 'How' also reeks of middle-class self-obsession.
'A Disbelief' is probably the best poem, but even it is vastly inferior to lots of poetry I have read by any number of unpublished working-class poets, who mysteriously never seem to find success in poetry publishing, whilst mediocre middle-class poets like Carol Ann Duffy do. It seems that talent is secondary to having the correct background.
'Circe', meanwhile, is the kind of poem that could make anyone despise contemporary poetry, being, as it is, rife with cliche and metaphors. Ridiculous double-entendres comparing men to pigs positively reeks of the undertone 'I am a woman of the world, and I have lived. I have had many men'. But the sleazy double-entendres hide a rather ordinary individual who has no more right to have a book of poetry published than the ordinary person on the street. Her subject matter is never anything less than totally 100% cliched. This is also evident in 'Mrs.Faust' which contains more sleazy allusions and sexual references. All of the poetic techniques she uses are carried out with maximum mediocrity. Duffy even manages to make alliteration boring and dull, each verse looking more and more poorly constructed and amateurish than the last. It almost beggars belief that this was even published.
Then it's back to yet more cliche for 'To The Unknown Lover', which contains such hackneyed lines as: "This old heart of mine's a battered purse". The image of the 'battered' heart went out with the ark. Besides which, women writing romantic poetry is a cliched as it comes. It would appear that any woman who doesn't make constant sleazy sexual references or write pathetic, ancient romantic cliches has no chance of being published. If Carol Ann Duffy is the creme de la creme of British female poets, then literature is in a truly sorry state indeed.
|
|
well
|
I just like the way she writes.
It makes me feel good. It makes me feel.
I like things that make me feel.
That's all I wanted to say.
S x
|
|
Good, if not a little overrated
|
|
I am automatically biased, I tend to dislike something if I'm forced into it and I'm an english literature student - bad combination huh? Carol Ann Duffy's poems are original, expressive, amusing and at times a little see through. It may be the fact that (being male) I'm not really a feminist but claiming Mrs Darwin came up with the evolutionary theory...come on! A good read, even essential to anyone with even a mild interest in poetry but an open mind is essential (if you know where to find an open mind please let me know)
|
|
|
Occasional brilliance from the heroine of British poetry
|
|
What I resent about Duffy's baleful brand of feminism is the unspoken inference that it is edgy, unique and terrifying - the embodiment of the 'Ms' career woman whom men cower from behind their porno mags. Her headstrong tone of outrage can seem forced and her use of expletives comically inept. Universally acknowledged for her supple handling of numerous narrative voices; 'The Other Country' (1990) contains several worrying examples ('River' and 'Words, Wide Night') of an attempt to morph into some kind of new age philosopher. It is a poet's responsibility to question the relevance of language; but her previous poems - art which disguises art - with their thoroughly modern diction and sentiment, showed her adept at forging vibrant new poetry for the uninitiated. This edition contains only glimpses of her recent collection 'The World's Wife' which gives a voice to ignored females throughout world history. The valency of the poetry is occasionally questionable but it still represents perhaps the finest comic verse of the decade. Duffy's sparse, nihilistic style where adjectives gape in isolation from the page, can provide moments of jarring exactness. She is unparalleled in her use of the dramatic monologue. Her refreshing refusal to eulogise or over-elaborate allows her to conjure individual characters with a flurry of words and avalanche of meaning. Her devastating evocation of Wayne in 'Comprehensive' requires a single stanza. Fittingly, her poems end with deceptively bland and hauntingly poetic final lines. Like an after thought, they end in flux with intriguing ambiguity.
|
|
|
Captivating, a brave talent, a poet of our time
|
|
Carol ann Duffy allows the reader to actually experience the same emmotions as her characters within her poetry. Carol ann is refreshing, extrordinary who is able to reveal the rigid mechanism of our society and subvert typical sterotypes. Whats more Duffy's work is diverse, dramatic and touching.
|
|
|
United States | 
United Kingdom | 
Canada