The Hunchback In The Park – Dylan Thomas

A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
That lets the trees and water enter
Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark
Eating bread from a newspaper
Drinking water from the chained cup
That the children filled with gravel
In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship
Slept at night in a dog kennel
But nobody chained him up.
Like the park birds he came early
Like the water he sat down
And Mister they called Hey mister
The truant boys from the town
Running when he had heard them clearly
On out of sound
Past lake and rockery
Laughing when he shook his paper
Hunchbacked in mockery
Through the loud zoo of the willow groves
Dodging the park keeper
With his stick that picked up leaves.
And the old dog sleeper
Alone between nurses and swans
While the boys among willows
Made the tigers jump out of their eyes
To roar on the rockery stones
And the groves were blue with sailors
Made all day until bell time
A woman figure without fault
Straight as a young elm
Straight and tall from his crooked bones
That she might stand in the night
After the locks and chains
All night in the unmade park
After the railings and shrubberies
The birds the grass the trees the lake
And the wild boys innocent as strawberries
Had followed the hunchback
To his kennel in the dark.

Analysis

I remember seeing this poem for the first time a couple of years ago as I was teaching the poetry section in the anthology and was required to teach this, along with three or four more, to my classes to get them to write a Controlled Assessment on them. So it comes as no surprise to see it here in this section, because it is about a character that I can relate to so well and it shows how we take away the voice of one so lowly at times because of our horrible actions and attitudes towards such people.

There is a saying in the UK that “it does what it says on the tin” and this poem is no different. Simply entitled “The Hunchback in the Park” and written by Dylan Thomas, from his Collected Poems 1934 – 1953, we see a tale of a man who is living on the streets. As I type this, there is a reminder in my head, as should be in yours if you are following this blog, that there is another poem in this section that could be linked with this, to be able to write a response in the exam. Can you figure it out? Have you got the same idea as I have? This is what you need to do as you study these poems, assuming your teacher, like me, would let you read ALL of them one after another, so as to be able to let you have the choice in the exam.

This then, is the story of someone who lives not in a house or home, but in the park! This is the story of a “solitary mister,” a term we use to show respect to our elders in the UK, or at least we used to, but this one is not so well off as we are, not so fortunate, for we see him “propped between trees and water” in a situation more than likely, not of his choosing. We know from the title that he is a “hunchback,” that he has a disability and so, we are being asked to consider just how we treat people with disability here. This man is to be found in the “garden lock that lets the trees and water enter,” a space of land that through the day may be busy with people seeking their place of peace and tranquillity, but at night would be isolated and relatively safe to bed down under the stars.

As a reader, we are left to assume whether it is his choice or not to be there. Some choose to walk away from the pressures of life and live different lifestyles. To these people comes derision and contempt from those who have homes, mortgages etc. Comments like “get a job” when they are begging on the streets are common, but this man is different to those because of his disability. He can be found in this place in the park “until the Sunday sombre bell at dark,” which suggests he then moves on from “eating bread from a newspaper” and “drinking water from the chained cup that the children filled with gravel in the fountain basin” to somewhere quieter.

It is a sad existence he lives, one that is filled with pain. And the voice of the narrator in the poem comes through now as he says that where this man is seen is where he “sailed [his] ship.” To the man [or boy] in question, he is associating the place with the man, in a way saying that the two always seem to go together. But then we get the next line where suddenly, the tone changes in the poem for we see that the hunchback man sleeps “at night in a dog kennel.” This darkening of tone is meant to have an effect on the reader. It is meant to make us feel sorry for this man, for the fact that the only place he has where he feels safe is in a dog kennel. It is quite a statement that the poet is making about how we treat people near us in our society. And even though it was written approximately 70 years ago, the same still rings true today.

But there is a difference with this man, for “nobody chained him up,” showing that this is by choice that he lives like this. In a way, this is his ‘normal.’” Once again the reader should respond in support of the man. This is a man who, “like the park birds [he] came early” into the park, who “like the water [he] sat down” to take in the beauty of the day in the park. People call him “Mister” as a sign of respect for him, but those who are cruel, and it is aimed at children on purpose for they can be so cruel at times, aim insults at him. It is the “truant boys from the town,” the ones who are sent to school by their parents and then choose to walk out of school and get up to all sorts of antics, many illegal, that hurl their abuse at him and treat him harshly.

These boys from the town mock him and then run when he is “out of sound,” and laugh when he shakes his paper. They make fun of him, mocking him for his disability. In truth, they should be ashamed of themselves, but they are children who know no better because they do not understand disability yet. At this point the reader must be asking themselves the question: has the poet been in a park one day, seen something like this happening in front of his eyes and then penned the poem? When we talk of ‘intentional fallacy,’ we need to ask these questions. [There is an explanation of this on a previous post]

The use of the rhyme with the words “rockery” and “mockery” is a particularly good one, showing the mockery from the boys but also how the man is realistically and metaphorically “hunchbacked in mockery.” It is as if the mockery from the boys makes him stoop all the more, such is the pain inflicted by these boys. All this happens until the “bell time,” or the time when there is a sound that tells all in the park it is time to leave. The park is about to be closed. This is when we see the picture being painted of a “woman figure without fault, straight as a young elm,” seeing this man before her, seeing his plight, standing there “in the night after the locks and chains,” watching what happens next. Whether the poet intended us to take this in this way is uncertain, but one can see this from this reading and it becomes a man watching a woman watching a hunchback. It is a vignette [a short impressionistic scene] that is being shared here.

It is at night when we as readers see the extent of this hunchback’s plight and we feel for him, because after all that he has seen and put up with through the day; “the railings and shrubberies, the birds the grass the trees the lake and the wild boys innocent as strawberries,” we see him followed until he gets to his “kennel in the dark.” At the end, the reader should be feeling that feeling you get when you know someone is being treated harshly and there is little you can do about it. This is because that is the intention of the poet, to make you think about such people in society, who are forced to live life in a certain way that is not necessarily the same as ours.

This theme of ‘difference’ and how we deal with it is something that can and indeed must be written about in any exam setting. There are all sorts of differences here; the difference between the narrator and the hunchback, the difference between the woman and the hunchback and then the difference between each of us who reads this poem. All will have different experiences of people with disabilities [never ever write the words ‘disabled person’ in an exam!!!] and therefore will react to the themes of this poem in differing ways. It is true therefore, that when writing about literature, like this, there is no wrong answer, so long as your comments can be backed up with evidence from the poem.

This then, is a very effective poem, that shares a story about a man who lives in the park. It also shares a theme for us to consider; that of disability and how we deal with it. It depicts young, innocent children who hurt the feelings of the man, mocking him and running away from him when he reacts. It shows the reader just how not to treat someone who is different and is therefore, a polemic [look it up if not sure] in its style and content.

The River God – Stevie Smith

I may be smelly, and I may be old,
Rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools,
But where my fish float by I bless their swimming
And I like the people to bathe in me, especially women.
But I can drown the fools
Who bathe too close to the weir, contrary to rules.
And they take their time drowning
As I throw them up now and then in a spirit of clowning.
Hi yih, yippity-yap, merrily I flow,
O I may be an old foul river but I have plenty of go.
Once there was a lady who was too bold
She bathed in me by the tall black cliff where the water runs cold,
So I brought her down here
To be my beautiful dear.
Oh will she stay with me will she stay
This beautiful lady, or will she go away?
She lies in my beautiful deep river bed with many a weed
To hold her, and many a waving reed.
Oh who would guess what a beautiful white face lies there
Waiting for me to smooth and wash away the fear
She looks at me with. Hi yih, do not let her
Go. There is no one on earth who does not forget her
Now. They say I am a foolish old smelly river
But they do not know of my wide original bed
Where the lady waits, with her golden sleepy head.
If she wishes to go I will not forgive her.

Analysis

Once again we come to a second poem by Stevie Smith. I can remember when doing my GCSEs that we looked at a Stevie Smith poem back then and I was left with that sinking feeling you get in the pit of the stomach after reading it for the first time.

Let’s see if this one has the same effect.

It begins in the first person, using the term “I” instead of third person which would be about a person, like her poem in the conflict section. But this “I” is reflecting, saying “I may be smelly, and I may be old,” which immediately should have an effect on the reader, making them feel empathy towards the character speaking. If anything it is meant to be said in such a way as to get that effect from the reader.

So this person, or thing, for the title says “river God,” feels as if it is smelly and old, but then we see a further description in that it is seeing itself as “rough in my pebbles, reedy in my pools,” which is slightly odd as a way of describing itself, unless we keep to the idea of a god being described, but what form does that ‘god’ take? If it is in a river, is it the biggest fish or predator in there? The answer is given in the next line where it says “but where my fish float by I bless their swimming,” so this is no fish, but rather, something that ‘allows’ the swimming fish to take their place amongst the other life in the river.

This god then adds “I like the people to bathe in me, especially women.” Once again, who or what is the river god? What form of creature or being is it that likes to have people bathe in it, unless it is the river itself speaking. At least in that way, we can see the personification at work here as it adds “but I can drown the fools who bathe too close to the weir, contrary to rules.” In this way, the poet uses personification to bring the river to life. We speak of a river as a living thing normally. We might say to children to be very careful for a river is a dangerous thing indeed. And we would be right to do so, but we forget at our peril what we are doing with language at that point as we bring life into the river as though it is alive [which it indeed is].

There is a feeling of disdain in this poem from the river [god] to the people as well. Just as much as it rejoices in the swimmers who know what they are doing, it makes snide comments about the ones who do not follow the rules as they “take their time drowning” and dying within its grasp. This is a reference to the power that water has. A river has currents that can be tricky to swimmers if they do not know what they are doing. Indeed, where I live, there has been three deaths in the river [Ouse] in this last twelve months because drunken revellers have ended up in the water and been caught out by the strength of the water beneath them. One such body was not found for weeks.

Stevie Smith then has the river [god] mention that it throws them up “now and then in a spirit of clowning.” It is a strange comment or line to make even from this god of wrath, but one that shows the fickle nature of the creation it exists within. The words “Hi yih, yippity-yap, merrily I flow, O I may be an old foul river but I have plenty of go” show the reader that this is something that does not care, does not have feelings or compassion, but rather, is something that exists and should be taken great care with. It shows the danger and it shows the power that a river has at its disposal. Our concept of God [with a capital G] may be one thing or another. Our concept of a god [with small g] may be something else. But what is true is that this personified being is a mighty one indeed.

This is reflected in the next line where the river [god] tells the story of one of its victims. We are told that “once there was a lady who was too bold.” Immediately, we are led into thinking that this is another victim that is being described here, as “she bathed in me by the tall black cliff where the water runs cold,” itself a description meant to make the reader think certain things. Coldness is a symbol, or even metaphor, for death or dying and one is immediately aware here that Smith’s other poem, in the conflict section, is also about the onset of death. Is there a parallel here? Is she pre-occupied with death as a writer? Or if not death, with suffering and pain?

The river itself gives us the answer to that question as it adds “so I brought her down here to be my beautiful dear.” It is as if the river god needs to have its victims from time to time, needs to have a partner of some description, as if it yearns for the next person to not take enough care so it can gobble down its prey. It is personified therefore, as a predator in the wild, just like any other wild animal. The river god asks “oh will she stay with me will she stay, ,this beautiful lady, or will she go away? It is as if the question is being asked of someone or something else. It is like she [the river god-dess now?]  needs to have permission to take this victim down to her depths? Is this an all powerful God then? I think not because an all powerful, omnipotent God does not need permission to do things.

And as this dramatic monologue continues we then begin to see how much the river god wants to keep her prey. We see the words “she lies in my beautiful deep river bed with many a weed,” deep and safe [in a morose sense] so as to never be found. This is not a god then who is loving in the normal sense but one who loves the ones that end up at the bottom on the river bed with “many a waving reed” to hold them in place.

The river god tells us from her depths that she has capabilities of reassuring and calming the victim/lover that exists within her depths. She says “Oh who would guess what a beautiful white face lies there waiting for me to smooth and wash away the fear she looks at me with.” She has the ability therefore with time and decay, to wipe away any fear, to make good on her promises and to keep the person there for all eternity. In that way, she is like the God she suggests she is. Once again we see the sing song style made up words of “Hi yih,” followed by “do not let her go.” She is imploring us to look after the ones we love, to not let them get into danger, to make sure that they are safe, otherwise, she will take them given half the chance. She is after all, a jealous God and one that will take what she can.

So, we humans who exist above her depths need to be aware of each other, to love each other and care for each other; to not make it so that “there is no one on earth who does not forget” to do this and then lose someone close. The river god describes herself as a “foolish old smelly river” and one who has a “wide original bed where the lady waits, with her golden sleepy head.” It is as if an animal exists down there inside the water, an animal that is the river itself, something that wants its prey, a hunter if you like, who seeks out and keeps those wayward strays that come from above into the murky waters.

And she is a jealous God too because in the last line we hear her say “if she wishes to go I will not forgive her.” This is a reference to the woman in the previous lines but it shows an entity that will not be forgiving should the lady in question be rescued by those who want to save her, in the god’s view, a woman who “wishes to go” back to dry land.

This therefore, is a very classy poem. It uses personification to bring the river god to life. It tells us how effective she is at securing and keeping her prey, her victims who have drowned and it shows a range of emotions as if a river could have them; calmness, gentility, rage, jealousy to name but a few. If I had the chance to write about this in the exam, I would choose this one because it is, I think, easier than some of the others to get into and unpack!

‘My Last Duchess’

Robert Browning

FERRARA

That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek; perhaps
Fra Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat.” Such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She thanked men—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—which I have not—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretense
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Analysis 

Have you ever told a story to someone about something else someone has done? If so, then you have done something similar to the person in this poem. Have a second look and see. It begins with the Duke talking to a man who is with him in his home and he is saying that the picture on the wall is the depiction of the last Duchess, or woman he was married to. He expresses an opinion, as well as his love for her, in the words “looking as if she were alive.”

It is as if he can remember her because of that painting and recall to his memory her features, as if she was alive. Clearly, this is a man in love with this woman. His love for her knows no end. He even calls the piece of art “a Wonder” because of the unerring accuracy of the painting. He is, in a word, besotted but grieving.

He remarks how the painter was at work on this for some time and his completion is wonderful to behold. When he adds “there she stands” he is using the same words he would if she was actually standing in front of him in person. He asks the visitor if he would mind sitting and looking at her, at the “depth and passion” contained within the painting.

So far, this is a poem that shows extreme love and passion from one man to his wife, now dead. But is there something else? Those who have read enough of this blog will know how much I mention that there is conflict usually in any piece of Literature, so what are we expecting here I wonder? When will it turn nasty? As we read on, we will see this happen in front of our very eyes. This special visitor has been given special consideration for he has a “curtain ….. drawn for [him]” so he can view the artwork in privacy. And as he does so he is asked a question: “how [did] such a glance” appear in the face of the woman on the canvas? She has a look on her face that is making the two people viewing wonder just what was in her mind as she was being painted by the artist. This should make the reader sit up and think!

We then see that there is a “spot of joy” on the cheek of the Duchess but it was not there because of the Duke. The visitor says that consideration has been given to the Duchess when modelling for the piece because “paint must never hope to reproduce the faint half-flush that dies along her throat.” There is an admiration for the Duchess in the heart of both men and a passion shared by them for this deceased woman in the painting. It is in one way, such a wonderful poem up until this point. It depicts a picture in the mind that one can almost see as if it was a scene from a film.

But then, we see that the Duchess “had a heart” when she was alive that was “too soon made glad,” which should make the reader stop and think. What does that mean, “a heart too soon made glad?” In one sense it could mean that she was too happy all of the time, which could become annoying to people. Yet again, it could mean something else. It could suggest to the reader that the Duke was not too keen on this aspect of her lifestyle. She was “too easily impressed” and favoured whatever she looked at. Was this a person who saw the good in others more than most of us do? Was her husband able to cope with this?

This is developed further into the poem as we see a woman who would ride a “white mule” and everyone would be grateful of her presence in their lives. She was the epitome of the perfect wife from the sounds of it, but this possibly annoyed the Duke, who could not see why she would be like that. Here comes the conflict I hear you thinking.

The Duke says that his late wife “ranked [his] gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name with anybody’s gift.” In other words, she put him on a level with everyone else, which for a Duke, would be a difficult thing to stomach. It is like the Duke is saying that because of the way his wife was, her end came as a shock, which then makes the reader, the 21st Century reader, think in terms of conspiracy, whereby the Duchess was killed by persons unknown and for whatever reason.

With this being the case we then have to ask who would kill her and for what reason. If we read on, we see words that point towards a person of interest. The Duke says to the visitor “even had you skill in speech—which I have not—to make your will quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this or that in you disgusts me; here you miss, or there exceed the mark.” From these words we can deduce that the Duke is not too good with words abd that the Duchess, when alive, “let herself be lessoned,” or tutored so as to be able to “plainly set her wits” to anything she wanted or any person. The Duke on the other hand, is more reserved, more noble and royal, a typical symbol of everything controlled. Therefore, we as readers ask is their marriage a good match?

The chances are that it was an arranged marriage. Indeed, some readers have taken this Duke to be advancing in years whilst his dead wife remains in the painting as a young or younger woman. If this is the case and what Browning imagined then we see something else in there in the middle of this poem; the mind of an elderly Duke remembering someone who may have died some time beforehand and as he reminisces, he lets us know more about this wife he was married to. He is the sort of person who chooses “never to stoop” or bow to any kind of pressure. His lifestyle is strict and disciplined. Hers was not when she was alive. But at some point in their relationship, things changed. We read that “all smiles stopped together. “ This is saying that sadness entered where joy and fondness ended. Does this mean that their relationship turned sour? The answer to that is up to you.

And so, the Duke, maybe advancing in years, now looks at the painting and says “there she stands as if alive” before asking his visitor “will’t please you rise? We’ll meet the company below, then.” He is asking the visitor to join him in another room where the rest of a gathering are meeting, so this is not a single pairing seeing this painting but two men looking at the portrait of the Duchess before gathering together for a party, perhaps even, to remember her. As the two men descend towards their meal and drink, there is a mention of a “dowry,” which is something that used to happen in previous times [and indeed, still happens in some cultures around the world]. A man would marry, have a daughter and then as she met someone [or if it was an organized marriage] he would be required to pay the family of the groom a sum of money for the right to marry the young lady. That is a dowry!

Why is a dowry being mentioned here? It seems rather odd to me. It seems as if there has been something happening before this, that he expected to see the dowry but now, because of her death, there is a question about keeping the money. It is all conjecture from the Duke and we are left to wonder at the truth about the death of the last Duchess. As the two men descend towards the party the Duke tells the visitor to “notice Neptune, who is set in a stone carving and is “taming a sea-horse” which could also be symbolic of him having to tame his wife in the past, a fact he wants to keep quiet.

The reader at the end of this poem is left asking certain questions; what happened to the Duchess? Was she killed? If so then who by? Why is the Duke saying what he is? Is this a scene showing guilt? Is he responsible for her demise? Where in all of this, is the truth? And more importantly, is this meant as a poem to criticize a certain royal at the time it was written by Browning? If so, then we need to Google the man and find who he may have been writing about. It is like me now writing a poem about Diana, Princess of Wales and writing it in a similar fashion. I would then publish and be making a comment for people to discuss. This is why this is such a good, deep poem.

NB. When I taught this poem to Year 10 students last, we were required to let them act out the death scene, showing how they thought she had died. If you get the chance, ask your teacher if you can do the same thing. It will be most illuminating indeed on your reading of the poem.

RJ

In what ways are the effects of fear presented in at least two poems about the First World War?

This is a title taken from the AQA teacher booklet, so is a title your teacher can give you as a warm up for the exam. I would certainly give it to my students, but the question is how do we answer it? What do we put in there to answer such a question as this?

Well, I believe the answer lies in the question. Imagine that you choose Futility, by Wilfred Owen and The Falling Leaves by M P Cole. How would you approach it? Would you write about the first poem in full and then the second one? That would be a good idea and if I was marking the exam paper, may get a C or possibly a B, but not much higher due to the complexity of the essay itself and how you have not approached the essay writing task fully.

You see, although the title does not actually say compare and contrast it wants you to do just that. Your mission, should you choose to accept [as the saying goes] is to write a structured and well written analysis of both poems. So, I ask again, how would you do it? There are probably several ways; take one idea that applies to both and one that are different and write about them both together. That would gain a decent mark and grade, if written correctly.

I believe I have a method for you that will destroy any A* markers set for you. It is one that I was taught before I did my GCSEs, way back when Noah was a lad, but still applies to this day. It is simple, effective and easy to follow. If you want, you can call it the 5 Point Plan. It goes something like this:

Introduction
Point 1
Point 2
Point 3
Conclusion

At the side of each one, add some ideas. Point 1 could be the difference between the two regarding the fear aspect. Point 2 might be the ways both poems are similar in showing fear etc. Point 3 might then be whether or not each one is successful, especially regarding the effect of fear on the reader. Then the conclusion would be which, in your opinion, is the better of the two [again, stick to the title here – see last comments in this piece regarding derailing].

When all that is done, write it and complete it. It will have been easier to write because of the planning and is easier than just waffling on from one idea into the next. With that in mind, here are a few notes on each section for you.

Introduction

In this very short, five lines of writing, stick to the question, introducing the two poems and their poet’s names, in full. Just say what they are about in brief and keep to present tense all the way through……Owen writes……not Owen wrote! And never ever put “I” or “my” in there. There is no need whatsoever to make it personal. Your introduction is what it says, a way of introducing the aims of the essay without actually stating them. Example below:

The poetry of Wilfred Owen and Margaret Cole at the time of the First World War share some similarities because of their styles of writing and the fact that the themes contained within are anti-war by today’s standards. ‘Futility’ and ‘The Falling Leaves’ show a sense of fear throughout and the effects that fear then has on the soldiers who fought, as well as the reader.

That is all you need really. You have mentioned the poet’s name in each case and the poems being covered without writing that horrible “today I am going to write about….” style of introduction, which tends to make the teacher/marker want to hurl to be honest. It is such an immature form of writing but the one above is so much clearer and better.

Point 1

Here you could write about the difference between the two regarding the fear aspect. Your writing has to be in present tense throughout and those horrible PEE chains need to be bang on from now on. Your planning will aid you here. The more annotation on your poem, the better, before you write on.

Point 2

Here the idea would be to write about the ways both poems are similar in showing fear. Again, PEE chains throughout [see other blog item on this] and in equal amount of detail as Point 1.

Point 3

This third point is where you write about whether or not each one is successful, especially regarding the effect of fear on the reader. Once again, PEE chains throughout this section. You may only have an hour for the whole thing, so 2 PEE chains in each section [P1, P2 and P3] would be enough, giving you 6 bits of evidence used and commented on, or explained in detail, by you.

Conclusion

Finally, there is a conclusion to do, without PEE chains, making comment from you as to which, in your opinion, is the better of the two [again, stick to the title here]. In this section do not write with “I think that…..” because once again, its immaturity will let you down. It is your opinion we want to see, so do it like this:

… it can be said therefore that Owen’s poem is the most effective because of the very nature of the language he uses, which is first hand after being in the trenches. Cole did not share in the horror of the Somme, so her poem is not as effective as that of Owen.

Now if you can do this, like this, and well, then you are in for an A* or an A, providing you can keep to the task in hand. The question is whether you will derail or not.

You are possibly thinking what is he saying now. Well, it is very easy to lose sight of the exam task/title. It asks you to consider certain things. If you do, then do not worry. But it is easy to waffle on, to have a brainwave of an idea on the spot, add it in and then find you are moving away from the exam title. I usually use the analogy of the train journey to explain this. Imagine you are going from one place to the next on a train. You get on at Point A and you expect to get off at Point B, but if there is a problem somewhere in the middle and the tracks have to be changed, you end up at Point C and are lost.

Writing an essay can be rather like this. Be very careful. Think!

Have a go now at planning and writing an answer to this task title at the top. You choose your poems to write about. Then by all means, post it on the Facebook page for this site.

RJ

Okay, this is a made up title so please do not go looking anywhere else for this in the AQA or indeed, any board data.

The idea for this post came about from reading one of those stories we see on Facebook every now and then. You know the sort, I am sure.

But, imagine being asked in an exam, to write something that is a story, recounting something from your past, something that helps another person in their life. It would be writing to inform and describe. The title may be different, but the style of writing will be the same. The idea will be to get the story down in such a way that you tell the story, but also, paint a picture in the mind of the reader; if you like, giving a moral to the story somewhere near the end.  The following story does this so well. Have a read and see what effect it has on you at the end.

Then try to write on of your own, from your life, to have a similar effect on the reader. When done, send it to here or to the Facebook page for this site where we can all share in your published work.

THE OLD PHONE ON THE WALL

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighbourhood. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it.

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was “Information Please” and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone’s number and the correct time.

My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbour. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy.

I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. “Information, please” I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. “Information.”

“I hurt my finger..” I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience.
“Isn’t your mother home?” came the question.
“Nobody’s home but me,” I blubbered.
“Are you bleeding?” the voice asked.
“No,”
I replied. “I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts.”
“Can you open the icebox?” she asked.
I said I could.
“Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger,” said the voice.

After that, I called “Information Please” for everything. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my mathematics. She told me my pet possum that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, “Information Please,” and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, “Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all the families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?” She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, ” Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.” Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, “Information Please.” “Information,” said in the now familiar voice. “How do I spell fix?”, I asked. All this took place in a small town in the Blue Mountains. When I was nine years old, we moved across to Perth. I missed my friend very much. “Information Please” belonged in that old wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall.

As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way to college, my plane touched down in Sydney, New South Wales. I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialled my home town operator and said, “Information Please.” Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. “Information.”

I hadn’t planned this, but I heard myself saying, “Could you please tell me how to spell fix?” There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, “I guess your finger must have healed by now.” I laughed, “So it’s really you,” I said. “I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?” I wonder,” she said, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls.” I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. “Please do”, she said. “Just ask for Sally.”

Three months later I was back in the Blue Mountains. A different voice answered, “Information.” I asked for Sally.
“Are you a friend?” she said. “Yes, a very old friend,” I answered.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said, “Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago.”
Before I could hang up, she said, “Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?” “Yes.” I answered. “Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you.” The note said,”Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He’ll know what I mean.” I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

The moral of this story is to never underestimate the impression you make on others and those whose life you have touched today.

Percy Bysshe Shelley was born on 4th August, 1792 and died 8th July 1822 and lived through some momentous times. He is famous now as one of England’s most celebrated poets, but he like so many [Van Gogh for example] knew nothing of fame during his life. After his death, people began to talk about his poetry, eventually leading to his rise in fame and popularity. Nowadays, his works are considered highly in the English canon of literature.

He was a lyric poet and close friends with Lord Byron and Mary Shelley, the author of the novel, Frankenstein. This poem, called ‘Ozymandias’ is one that at first glance, for the young mind, can be somewhat confusing, so if you have just read this for the first time and are thinking using acronyms like WTF, then you are in the majority; mostly everyone reacts like that the first time, to this poem.

But then they read on and delve deeper and find that it can be understood in its context. Here is a man playing with language, yet another of those wonderful poets who brighten up our days with their words. Taken from the perspective of one person speaking, the reader immediately sees that this person meets “a traveller from an antique land,” making them think of a land far away maybe, that is as ancient as the sand, possibly a north African country, like Egypt, or southern Mediterranean, like Malta. Clearly this is a meeting between one person and a man. If we assume Shelley is meaning it to be autobiographical, then it is a meeting between him and a travelling man he is recounting.

This man then tells a riddle, of sorts. He says “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert.” If this is meant as the meander into a story, then one ultimately asks what kind of story will it be. People from away from the UK can tell some very colourful stories from their differing cultures, so the man hearing the story is expecting something grandiose, maybe on a scale with the storytellers of old. As the man continues we find that in the story, “near them on the sand, half sunk, a shatter’d visage lies.”

What do you think that means?

The answer is in the word “visage” for when we look upon someone and their face is downcast, or happy, or joyous, we see a visage that reflects that. In this instance it is a “shattered visage” perhaps showing that tiredness and decay has set in. The visage in question has a “frown and wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command.” It is as if the coldness of the man is being shown in his sneer and his gaze.

But then in the next few words we see that this shattered face is none other than that of a statue, for we see the words “tell that its sculptor” which paints more of the picture in for us. It is as if Shelley has seen a “bust” or a face carved in stone somewhere and he has personified it into life in this poem. The face is one that has “passions” grained into it and just as the statue or face has these lines, it is the sculptor that has put them there; the master at work on the artwork, carving out the lines he creates. This then, is a poem that is an homage to those wonderful people who have made things with their hands and used their skills over the years to create the beautiful things we see in the museums nowadays. To Shelley, this work of art is sheer beauty. This entrenched face, full of the scars of life, is one that has lived and commanded respect.

The sculptor has “stamp’d on these lifeless things” and made them into something with added beauty. To Shelley, this man should be praised even though there is the reference to “the hand that mock’d them and the heart that fed.” These are negative words indeed and appear as a critique of the sculptor, or more perhaps, a critical and social comment against the people of the time. Indeed, on the bottom of the piece of art work, we are told that “these words appear: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” This is a reference to the ancient Egyptian ruler, or Pharaoh, Rameses II and is meant to reflect his power and glory that he insisted he get from his subjects. Any research into him will show you just what life was like for the ordinary person at that time; tough.

The Egyptians were at one time, the powerhouse of the world and most of you know the story of Moses and the Israelites and their freedom from bondage. But I wonder, just how many of you know about this Egyptian ruler? Go on, Google the name and do some background reading. It can and will be used in your exam answers, or Controlled Assessments [for this year only]. Added detail like that in an exam answer will get you the A* you seek. So this poem is about a man, possibly Shelley, seeing the statue or bust of the ancient Egyptian ruler, Rameses II and his reaction to it [Google the title of the poem and see what I mean on Wikipedia – not always accurate but in this case yes].

You have to be very careful here however, because something is happening in this poem that you more than likely will not be told about by your teacher. Let me explain with an example. Go with me on this; let us say you like films. Let us say you are a fan of the actor George Clooney. Assuming you are female and like him, as an actor and a man, whether it be in one way or another, when you see an image of him, you would react in an odd manner, in a way that would be considered not normal for you. You would be over excited.

When I went to the Tate Modern a few years ago now, in London, to see the Pablo Picasso exhibition, I did so wanting to see that but also because there was a painting there I wanted to see, among others, a painting called Beatta Beattrix, by one of the Pre-Raphaelite painters. I had studied it in depth and when I got there, I looked round the Picasso and then went to the Pre-Raph exhibit on my own, for a private rendezvous with the painting that had captivated me all year when studying it.

I looked at it, at her, for over an hour. I checked her out from every angle imaginable. I now know every single centimetre of that canvas and I am in love with it. Seeing her two inches from the canvas, close up and personal, made my knees go weak. It was one of the most breathtaking things I have ever done [and sounds very odd when typed here] but it had a lasting effect on me. If that effect would have caused me to write a poem, then I wonder what I would have written. I too, like Shelley, may have penned something that today would be considered a classic poem to be studied. Clearly, I will have to die for my poetry to be famous!

But the same thing is happening here in this poem and we are told that “nothing beside remains: round the decay of that colossal wreck.” The art work is in tatters, looking rather worn out and grim; it is “boundless and bare” and suffering with the time and age it has stood there. It is, because of age and decay, a poor reflection of its former glory. As the “lone and level sands stretch far away” we are led to see here an image of decay, of ageing, of death and misery in something that once would have been majestic and wonderful to behold.

It is then, a poem that shares the idea that nothing is permanent. Even rulers and their glory fade with time and age as the years pass into each other. There is a sense of impermanence throughout this poem, suggesting that what Shelley is trying to say is that nothing lasts, so make the best of what life brings you. After all, it only lasts a short span of time.

‘Les Grands Seigneurs’ by Dorothy Molloy

Men were my buttresses, my castellated towers,
the bowers where I took my rest. The best and worst
of times were men: the peacocks and the cockatoos,
the nightingales, the strutting pink flamingos.

Men were my dolphins, my performing seals; my sailing-ships,
the ballast in my hold. They were the rocking-horses
prancing down the promenade, the bandstand
where the music played. My hurdy-gurdy monkey-men.

I was their queen. I sat enthroned before them,
out of reach. We played at courtly love:
the troubadour, the damsel and the peach.

But after I was wedded, bedded, I became
(yes, overnight) a toy, a plaything, little woman,
wife, a bit of fluff. My husband clicked
his fingers, called my bluff.

Analysis

Take a run down the end of each line of this and in seconds you can see this is a poem but not one with rhymes throughout. There may be internal rhymes happening [we shall see] but it is a simple collection of thoughts surrounding the relationship between one person and another, in marriage.

Translate the title into English and you get, unless I am wrong, ‘The Big Fellas’ or ‘The Big Men.’ It is clear therefore, to any reader, that where the conflict will be [for there is conflict in every single piece of literature at some point] it will be against men and in favour of the female gender. Will this be a Feminist poem? We shall see.

If this was the case then the first line gives us a clue. We see the words “men were my buttresses,” which is a strange word to use. A buttress is something that is built into an object to strengthen it. Is the lady here saying that the men in her life strengthened her? If so, then forget a Feminist approach to this. Men were her “castellated towers” and “bowers where [she] took [her] rest.” In men, she found comfort and solace, rest and fortitude. But is this enough in any relationship, this sense of safety?

She adds that men were “the best and worst of times” for her. Now this line is interesting because it is a paraphrase of something very famous. Look up the first line to Dickens’ Tale Of Two Cities and see what I mean. What she is saying is that with men she has experienced both the good and the bad. There is no middle ground with them. They “were men” but they were “peacocks” and cockatoos,” things that like to look beautiful whilst at the same time be the centre of attention, preening themselves in the mirror. They were her “strutting pink flamingos,” something fantastic to see and be with. Clearly, her relationships have been both good and bad.

Then she adds that men have been her “dolphins” and her “performing seals.” All these comparisons and metaphors should have your brain thinking “oh boy” as you see what she is using to compare the men in her life to. Dolphins are graceful and playful so this is a positive poem so far. But when we get to the “performing seals” quote, the tide turns a little against men. Does she mean to say that men are like “performing seals?” If she does then she is saying that in her life she can get the man to do anything she wants, showing that she is the one in control in the relationship. Indeed, she may be saying this should be the role of all women; to control their men away from being “performing seals” and into something more likable.

As the poem continues, we see may more metaphors being used, without extension, to show what she really wants. She wants a man who can be the strong and sturdy sailing ship, or the “ballast in [her] hold.” She desires the sort of man who can be like the “rocking-horses prancing down the promenade.” But if she wants this then she is at odds with reality, for such a man does not exist in the world and the female world view here, from such a perspective, is sadly lacking.

Let me explain. What do you consider to be the role of the man? Do you expect a man, a real man, to be strong, tough, determined, reliant on no-one but himself, confident, assured, with a good sense of who he is? Now answer this: does such a thing exist that has all these qualities? The answer is no. A woman’s view of a man is coloured by her experience of men, good or bad. Likewise, a man’s view of a woman is equally skewed. There is no such thing as the perfect man or the perfect woman, even though someone will add “oh yes there is; me!”

Cue Pantomime response there.

So we look at this poem and ones like it through tinted glasses and see someone who fails to see clearly “the bandstand” before her. We see someone who sees what she thinks are “hurdy-gurdy monkey-men” but who is in fact, looking with unfavouring eyes. She is biased to begin with, even though she was “their queen” to begin with. Again, the word “queen” is one used by men to share an expression of fondness towards a woman. A man would see this word and think favourably towards the woman in question. A woman may not, especially an ardent Feminist.

The poet says that she “sat enthroned before them, out of reach” and that “we played at courtly love.” This is a negative comment, from the mind of someone who has been let down, from someone who feels hurt by men. Yes, they treated her like a queen [small q there on purpose] but they were only ‘playing’ at love. They were only actors on a stage that was her life, she the “damsel and the peach” and they the Troubadour. One could argue both for the positive and the negative here especially as she has had more than one relationship with a man before now.

But all this happened to her before one major event in her life, namely her marriage so the poem reflects on how her marriage has changed things. She adds “but after I was wedded [colloquial term meaning married] bedded [internal rhyme there and meaning made love to], I became (yes, overnight) a toy [something to play with], a plaything,” showing the changing attitude of the husband towards his new wife.

Or does it?

Is it the case that this shows only the attitude of the man to the woman, the husband to the wife?

I am married. I by some, am considered the one who you ask something first. I do not like that but that is a societal attitude, not mine. The words “my wife” denote that I am married to this wonderful lady; nothing else in my mind. One thing it definitely does not mean is that I own her, or have control over her, regardless of the vows taken. After all, she did omit the word “obey” in the ceremony, telling me she cannot make a promise before God that she cannot keep. So for me to refer to her as the “little woman,” or the “wife” or my “bit of fluff” would be very, very wrong of me.

Taking that in mind, one sees a poet who does not like when a man does that. So I am in agreement with her. But why is she like this? What makes her think that? The answer lies in experience.

Again, let me explain. I am tall and I am of the larger variety of male. I have had issues with weight all my life, so I am conscious of it and my attitude to it. So when someone uses a word that is derogatory towards obese people, I am likely to respond with 2 words, with 7 letters and 3 of them F. Sometimes, a student has copped for it as well, sadly. Why am I like that? The answer is because I have had that all my life and I hate the person who does this.

So, go back to the poem again and you see the possibility that this woman may not be the typical feminist [small f used on purpose], or even a raving Feminist, but simply someone who is fed up of being treated like a second class citizen by husband or society. If you are male and unsure here consider this. You get a letter as a couple. Someone writes on the envelope “Mr and Mrs G Smith.” George knows it is for him. His wife, Mildred, sees no sign of her on that envelope, apart from the Mrs bit. Does it matter we ask? Well to some it does.

This poet then says “my husband clicked his fingers,” which is suggesting that he is now ordering her about. I know what would happen if I tried that! So this is a complex poem, dealing with tricky and detailed issues. It deals with relationship differences before and after marriage. It explores how a woman can perceive a man acting towards her. It also shows the possibility for both man and woman to totally misunderstand each other, as is so often the case. And at the end we are told that the husband “called [her] bluff” which does suggest or hint at the possibility that he is saying “do it or leave,” but we cannot be certain because our image of the man in the relationship is being painted by an aggrieved woman. On that note, we are careful to see both sides of this relationship.

‘Give’ by Simon Armitage

Of all the public places, dear
to make a scene, I’ve chosen here.
Of all the doorways in the world
to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.

I’m on the street, under the stars.
For coppers I can dance or sing.
For silver-swallow swords, eat fire.
For gold-escape from locks and chains.

It’s not as if I’m holding out
for frankincense or myrrh, just change.
You give me tea. That’s big of you.
I’m on my knees. I beg of you.

Analysis

It is so rare to find two poems in one section of any anthology from one poet, unless there are sections like the old anthologies, where you were expected to read and study a certain poet’s works and then answer questions on 2 or more of them. Couple this with Armitage’s poem about the Punk rocker in this anthology and you get someone who you can write about in an exam, so as to make your writing easier. The same would be true if for a Controlled Assessment.

Armitage lives in Yorkshire, England, where there is an honesty and hardness to the people. Yes they are loving but they tend to not suffer fools gladly and say things exactly as they are, preferring not to mess with words. So when we see a poem like this that is poignant yet to the point, this teacher sees a fellow Yorkshireman at his best in expressing a character’s thoughts.

Okay, to the poem we go and I ask a question – have you ever slept under the stars? If you have camped, or like me, slept outdoors whilst hitch hiking abroad, you know how dangerous it is and how cold a night can get. So when I see this poem, I react accordingly. It is a poem about someone who lives on the streets, about homelessness, but also about each one of us and how we treat those less fortunate than us who do live in the street.

The title of “Give” suggests this is going to be about giving, but it is not, at least not in the way that we expect. We expect a poem like this to be the sort that asks you the question about your giving to others. Coupled with the fact that Armitage is famous for making the social comment, you then expect that slap in the face at the end.

He begins by setting the scene where the lone person is, in a public place and makes us think of those who are homeless through no fault of their own or by choice. Now we talk about someone making a scene as if they are doing something naughty, or wrong. That again, is what we expect from those words, so Armitage has the person making the definitive statement: “of all the public places, dear to make a scene, I’ve chosen here.” “Making a scene” is a way of being or saying something that is polemic, to make a point, or to make a stand, so the reader expects conflict at the beginning of the poem. He then adds “of all the doorways in the world to choose to sleep, I’ve chosen yours.” This makes the poem more personal than ever, for we see homeless people on the ground or in someone else’s doorway, never our own. We walk on by because it is then someone else’s problem. But now, here, it is personal. We are in our warm, comfortable homes and the man here is “on the street, under the stars.”

It is a cold, hard reality that this homeless man [or indeed woman] faces. The harsh reality is that wherever he sits, or lays his head, there will be people who try to move him on. No doorway is so good that it makes for a warm bedroom, so the reader immediately feels an affinity towards the man on the street from these words. Now that is done on purpose because of what follows, for we see Armitage making us think about what we do when we experience a homeless person. The last time it happened to me, I stopped and gave the man some money but before that I have offered a full English breakfast and been denied by a man, so one can be immediately negative towards such a person.

But here, we have the chance to re-evaluate our attitudes towards such people, because the poem reminds us just how bad it is. The man in the doorway says “for coppers I can dance or sing. For silver-swallow swords, eat fire. For gold-escape from locks and chains.” It is as if the man is saying you want to treat me like something in a zoo, so I can and will perform these tricks for you should you deem it necessary in order for you to cross my palm with silver or gold.

The man on the street is not “holding out” for some special gift like “frankincense or myrrh,” which then brings a Christmas feeling to this poem, but instead, the man is just after some of our “change.” Now the cynical amongst us will say that if we give money to these people then they will just use it on drink and on drugs, but they may be wrong if the person is there by no fault of their own and does not have a drug or drink habit to feed. Indeed, the American Pastor and Professor, Tony Campolo, once told a story in the Ebor Lecture he was conducting. He told of how he was out with 6 of his student in an SUV, like a camper van with seating for at least 7 people. It had sliding doors on the side. As they were driving with him at the wheel, one of his students screamed out “stop the car!” So he did and watched as the young man launched himself out of the car and ran over to a homeless man sat on the street.

The young student then gave the homeless man a $20 bill and returned to the vehicle. Prof Campolo asked the young man why he had done it and said that surely, the man would use it on drink or drugs, or worse. The answer he got shocked him to the core, for the student taught the master that day when he said “I gave it to him …. just in case he needs it.” His was an act of compassion on another human being and that is what Armitage is making us think about. As I type this, it is Boxing Day 2014 and I am thinking about how cold it is outside and how difficult it will be for the folk out there whose night tonight will be on the street. That is the power of this poem to make me think that!

At the end Armitage has the man say “you give me tea. That’s big of you.” In a sense this sounds sarcastic and it might be meant to, given Armitage’s style in other poems, but I see something different because we give cups of tea out because we do not want to encourage someone like this into drink or drugs. In a sense that is “big” of us and the man may be saying it like this, as a thank you. In the link below however, you will hear Armitage say it more spitefully. He is reciting it more like the man is saying “how good of you to buy me a tea. Perhaps if you helped me into a home that might be better, but until then, “I’m on my knees.”” Here the man is saying that he has hit rock bottom; there is nowhere else left to go.

This then, makes the man in the poem something of a character in need of compassion and to a certain extent, in need of our help. He adds at the end, “I beg of you.” He is a beggar. He is at the lowest that he can be. Things can only get better, but he needs help from the likes of us to get back into accommodation of his own. He will not be able to get there without help. Tea and food will sustain him, but greater help is needed. That is what Armitage is saying we should be thinking of when we next see that man sat in the street.

The following is a link to a website with more information about this poem. Feel free to go to it.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/education/clips/zy8s34j

He was seven and I was six, my Brendon Gallacher.
He was Irish and I was Scottish, my Brendon Gallacher.
His father was in prison; he was a cat burglar.
My father was a communist party full-time worker.
He had six brothers and I had one, my Brendon Gallacher.

He would hold my hand and take me by the river
where we’d talk all about his family being poor.
He’d get his mum out of Glasgow when he got older.
A wee holiday some place nice. Some place far.
I’d tell my mum about my Brendon Gallacher

how his mum drank and his daddy was a cat burglar.
And she’d say, ‘Why not have him round to dinner?’
No, no, I’d say, he’s got big holes in his trousers.
I like meeting him by the burn in the open air.
Then one day after we’d been friends two years,

One day when it was pouring and I was indoors,
My mum says to me, ‘I was talking to Mrs Moir
who lives next door to your Brendon Gallacher
Didn’t you say his address was 24 Novar?
She says there are no Gallachers at 24 Novar

There never have been any Gallachers next door.’
And he died then, my Brendon Gallacher,
flat out on my bedroom floor, his spiky hair,
his impish grin, his funny, flapping ear.
Oh Brendon. Oh my Brendon Gallacher.

Analysis

When you first read this one, a very definite impression is made on the mind of the reader. A young boy is speaking and telling the reader about a friend he had when he was young, but as you get to a certain point in the poem, the eyebrows raise and you suddenly realise that Brendon Gallacher is not real, but an imaginary friend.

The boy tells us that when he was very little, he had this special friend. It is something that some of us have in life, a crutch if you like, to help us walk through difficult times. This friend is no different for the reader sees that “Brendon Gallacher … was Irish” whilst the young boy in the poem is from Scotland. At that point the hint is made that something is wrong here but the reader goes past it assuming that he is talking about a boy who lives nearby. We are told that Gallacher’s father is “in prison; he was a cat burglar,” whilst the boy’s father “was a communist party full-time worker.” once again, the romance of the “cat burglar” in a world where his father is aligned to the Communist Party shows a boy who is living and growing up, using his active imagination.

The use of rhyme here helps the reader to grasp this sense of friendship and camaraderie that exists between real and made up friends. This is borne out in the next line when the reader sees that this friend, called Brendon, has “six brothers” whilst the boy in question has only one, his “Brendon Gallacher.” There is a feeling of loneliness in life here, a feeling that we are reading about one very unhappy little boy, possibly a boy with few friends who needs to be imaginative to survive.

Then the poem goes into some detail about what the boy would do during the day with Brendon Gallacher. The two of them would go to the river where Brendon would “talk all about his family being poor.” The words here are meant to echo and be symbolic of what the young boy wants for his family when he is older. In psychological terms, the young lad is projecting his own angst of being alone in life into an imaginary friend, someone who has the power to “get his mum out of Glasgow when he [gets] older.” To the little boy, who has no power, this is an outlet for his own feelings and is a perfectly acceptable form of behaviour in a way. He wants to get out of Glasgow, where he lives into “a wee holiday some place nice. Some place far.” As he is unable to make such things happen he makes up the imaginary friend and then tells his mother about his friend as a way of making these things happen in his imagination. But the boy’s imagination is one that paints a lurid picture of his friend, a friend who has a Mum who drinks, a father who is “a cat burglar,” making it so that the reader feels some sympathy towards the little boy. His friends are ‘rough and ready,’ the sort that stand by you whilst at the same time, are considered by mothers and fathers to be the sort of friend that is not good enough for you.

Then the poem turns the reader into the right direction when the mother says “why not have him round to dinner?” At this point the boy, who has made up the new friend, has to go on the defensive. He has to lie to his mother, something she would no doubt not be happy with. His excuses are normal. He says the friend cannot come to dinner because “he’s got big holes in his trousers” and he would therefore be ashamed of his poverty, again maybe that the little boy might be feeling at the same time. So his mother pushes the point home, as if she knows this lad is made up by her son, as if she is trying ultimately to help her son out of this make believe situation. This is a loving and caring mother.

He has ‘known’ this imaginary friend for “two years” when his mother finally challenges him about Brendon Gallacher. The mother does something that mothers do; she checks on her son’s friends to see who they are, where they live, what sort of friend are they? Parents do this because they do not wish their children to be walking the streets with the ‘wrong sort.’ It is their way of protecting their children, so to see words like “my mum says to me, ‘I was talking to Mrs Moir who lives next door to your Brendon Gallacher,” does not come as too much of a surprise to the reader, for we expect a resolution to the conflict in the poem.

The mother checks and asks “didn’t you say his address was 24 Novar?” When this has been done she follows it up with “there are no Gallachers at 24 Novar; there never have been any Gallachers next door.” At this point the reader sees what is happening and realises all too well that the friend is indeed, made up. For the first time reader, this is the moment where truth dawns in a world of lies, where we see what the boy is actually doing and then the sadness emerges. The boy tells us that “he died then, my Brendon Gallacher.” It is as if his mother has switched off the boy’s dreams by proving her point, that his imagination has been defeated, that he has to return to the land of the normal, the reality of existence as it actually is, poverty stricken, miserable and painful.

His form of escape has died at this point which makes the poem, for me, quite sad and emotive [emotional]. The added description of the now deceased imaginary friend, laid “flat out on [his] bedroom floor, his spiky hair, his impish grin, his funny, flapping ear” brings the reader to a sense of sadness for the little boy, which is done on purpose to make us think about our own childhood and the friends we have, to make us think of what we do as parents when we destroy the imaginary in favour of the real in our children’s minds.

“Oh Brendon. Oh my Brendon Gallacher,” cries the boy, as he once again realises that he cannot get away with this made up friend in a very real world. This makes the ending of the poem both sad and reflective, the sort of poem that makes you stop and think at the end, bringing about a feeling that although the little boy has been made to grow up a little more, his growing up is being handled well by his mother, who tries to show and share her love for him.

The first thing to notice about this is the use of nonstandard English. The lack of capital letters at the beginning of a line in poetry is not unheard of either, but on every line, it makes it almost non-conforming to the normally standardised version of the language.

Singh writes in the first person from the beginning, telling the story of how he runs “just one ov [his] daddy’s shops from 9 o’clock to 9 o’clock.” Typically, immigrant workers work in all sorts of environments but today, in the UK, we see a lot of shops and stores that are family run and family run by a variety of the ethnic population. They are a main part of our society and a good one, but this poem shows what it is like for the son of one such family to have to work in the shop.

So let’s see if he enjoys it.

The words “he vunt me not to hav a break” suggest he does not and also a negative attitude towards not the role as such but more the dictatorial way he is being handled. In this country, each worker is entitled to a break, a rest period, where they can recharge their batteries and then begin again refreshed. For the shop keeper on his or her own in a shop, this cannot happen. But Singh has a way round it. He says that “ven nobody in, i do di lock,” or he closes the door, locks up and goes upstairs because there is his new “bride” who shares a “chapatti” and “chutney” after they “hav made luv like [they are] rowing through Putney.” The comedic end to that verse is designed to make the reader chuckle either outwardly or inwardly and it has a great effect at turning round the negative thoughts about father and his attitude to the son as worker. It makes you snigger at the end.

But being in a shop like this is the kind of job where customers notice things. If there is anything out of place, different, or just odd, a customer will notice. When he returns downstairs and opens the shop, they notice and ask “hey Singh, ver yoo bin?” Again, the use of “ver” instead of “there” shares a cultural use of language. In some ethnic cultures in Britain there is a difficulty in sounding out certain sounds of consonants and the letter W is no exception in certain circumstances. Not everyone in the world has an alphabet with 26 letters in; some are different, shorter alphabets, so the W sound becomes what is nearest, in some cases the V sound and “where” becomes “ver.”

But then the jibes and the insults, in a friendly manner, are thrown at him, again showing a cultural difference in this context. They cry “yor lemons are limes
yor bananas are plantain, dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop in di worst Indian shop on di whole Indian road.” The rhythm is fantastic here, like a song, and the way this verse is italicised, when some of the rest are not, makes me want to sing it like a chorus in a song and indeed, the comments made are to be considered a chorus of disapproval.

Out of this revelrie appears a sound; the sound of “high heels” as they “tap di ground as [his] vife on di net is playing wid di mouse.” She operates a dating page on the Internet in her spare time, adding people together in the hope they will find love. It is a sad and reflective life she leads upstairs and one that is borne out in how she treats her new father in law and his family. The next verse shows this so well as we are told she is “effing at my mum in all di colours of Punjabi,” and stumbling “like a drunk making fun at [his] daddy.” Clearly, she is upset with her situation, unless we see it from another possible context.

In most cultures such action might be considered wrong. But in some, a stronger woman is seen as a virtue for the man, so she may be trying to live up to expectation here. [In your essays, try to do this, to offer more than one idea] and so, his bride, with “tiny eyes ov a gun and di tummy ov a teddy,” acts like the girls who buy his sweets, with “red crew cut,” a “Tartan sari, a donkey jacket and some pump [and the ] squeak ov di girls.” She is then, trying to be like the examples she sees each day from above her shop where she is perched like a bird on a branch, watching what transpires below. She reminds me of one of the two girls brought to the home in East is East, the ones where the big dog finally runs them out of the street. I am laughing hysterically inside at this description of someone who is so far removed from what we expect to see.

Singh then uses repetition of the verse [or chorus] to share more of what the customers say to him in pleasant jibes. He says that when he returns to the shop, they add “di milk is out ov date and di bread is alvays stale, the tings yoo hav on offer yoo hav never got in stock in di worst Indian shop on di whole Indian road.” The humour here is remarkable to see. It is someone who knows the English language so well that he can then play with it to great effect. This is done on purpose!

And so the day continues into the night and we see Mr Singh as he works “late in di midnight hour ven yoo shoppers are wrap up quiet” and we see that the “precinct is concrete-cool.” When this happens, the wife appears and comes “down whispering stairs and sit on [their] silver stool” and “from behind di chocolate bars vee stare past di half-price window signs at di beaches ov di UK in di brightey moon. At first, one is led to believe his wife’s existence is not a good one, but now, towards the end, we begin to glimpse something else, some other feeling and emotion, that of admiration and love, for each other.

The reader sees that “from di stool each night she say, how much do yoo charge for dat moon baby?” His response is a term of endearment in that he wants her to know how much she means to him. He says “is half di cost ov yoo baby.” Once again, we have to understand that in some cultures, dowries are still paid by the father of the bride to the groom’s family, to take the girl in marriage. If this is one of those situations, then the comment made here is not only a rendering of affection, but also a comment made about cost, her cost, how much it cost his family for them to marry. To place it in a different context, someone now can meet someone on the Internet. It may cost “£10” one year to enrol in such a thing but then costs go up, so the cost is £15” the next year. If two people meet and marry in such a way [and it has happened] and their two costs are different, the same thing can be said of them, that it is half to cost of you” or “you are more costly and more precious to me than anything we might sell here.” Indeed, he adds at the end that to him, she is his “priceless baby,” a term sharing love, affection and endearment towards his new wife.

Daljit Nagra has in this poem, shared so many emotions. It is a poem contained within a book of poems called Look We Have Coming to Dover! It is published by Faber and Faber but if we notice the title, we see the reference to the shop being close to the beach. He is classed as British Indian and tells stories in his poems about what it is like for an Indian to live in Britain; these are humorously reminiscent of the skits in the TV programme, Goodness Gracious Me.

He uses a mixture of English and Asian patois mixed with rhythms that make this poem sound and feel like a song, hence the title and makes this sound like the reader is meant to join in a sing-song of a poem. The use of repetition of “9 o’clock” shares the mundane every day existence, but this is turned on its head later with the terms of endearment. He is trapped in this existence and shares an exceedingly funny moment with the words “like vee rowing through Putney.” One can only imagine the reaction this will get with a class of 15 year old boys!

And finally, one way to look at the interaction between the wife and the husband here is to look at it like a Bollywood hero singing to his girl, who is also singing back. Some of us would be thinking “oh deary deary me” at such a description of her in her tartan but he loves her in spite of all this. It is a sign they are happy enough with their life. Indeed, their day ends on a high note with love and affection, in words that depict a bond between them that is unbreakable. It is therefore, a very funny and very effective poem at sharing negative and positive emotions.