Cowley Road

Jay Bernard
Wednesday, April 29th, 2009

So! Work in progress. What has Jay been writing?

The move to Oxford has been pretty successful and I’m going to start visiting Barracks Lane this week. In the mean time, I have been writing vignettes about the road that leads up to the garden. I’ve decided that I’d like to write a full, expansive piece which moves from London to Oxford, from Winter to Spring, from Snow to thunderous downpours (more on that later), from one style of gardening to another. I am keen to stick with my central idea, which was to explore a rural microcosm in an urban setting. The contrast between Barracks Lane and the surrounding area, especially the Cowley Road, is acute. In Hampstead, the allotment slotted nicely in to its surroundings – you had the heath on all sides, it was leafy and green. On my way up to Barracks Lane, I leave the centre of Oxford (beautiful colleges) and go past several porn shops, Chicken Cottage, a pub known as ‘rape central’, an aromatic pub/restaurant called Hi-Lo – then I peel off in to Kenilworth road and return to the picturesque.

Well I thought this was important. I stood around for a while the other day noting the things and the people I saw. This is the first piece, completely unpolished with embarrassing metrics. I have two conflicting metaphors at work – a ship and a movie theatre. The former will have to go. The latter needs tightening. I am one who perused the faber book of movie verse and have yet to shake the peculiar American idiom therein. Doesn’t help that I’ve been reading the Electric Kool Aid Acid Test either. I like Tom Wolfe’s theories, but I’m not sure about his narrative voice. It grates. Once you’ve read On The Road, Howl, Orpheus Emerging and This Kind of Bird Flies Backwards, you wonder if the twentieth century wasn’t all drug addled ‘kids’ going to San Francisco, or New York, or back to the land. Well, anyway, I’m like a sponge when I write. I read and read and read, stealing everything I come across, and for whatever reason I think those New Journalists have seeped in to this one.

Tune in next time for boy-who-flips-me-off and walking carcass shenanigans.

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ABOUT THIS AUTHOR


Jay Bernard
London writer, based on allotment in Hampstead; gently led by gardener Scarlett Cannon and Mentee of Katherine Stanton.

  1. Annamaria
    April 29th, 2009

    dear jay,
    i love the metaphor of the boat, the womans legs being like two ports etc. they say people look like their pets, well where i live, sailors and fishermen look like their boats. also, down here , gardens and boats are closely linked, as plant hunters went all over the world collecting exotic seeds, and bought them to mild climated Cornwall to see what they would grow to be, also a lovely metaphor..people who are far from home will often plant their gardens with seeds to cure homesickness.
    annamaria

    Reply


  2. Julia
    April 30th, 2009

    ‘the light here looks pre-recorded’ … gorgeous!

    Reply


  3. Katherine Stanton
    May 7th, 2009

    Jay and I spoke briefly about how to approach this second work-in-progress together. We agreed that I would comment on one poem in detail for now, and later on the structure of her work more generally. She will then do a rewrite, so that readers can see the mentoring/creative process at work – we hope! She has given me free rein to blog without us having a private conversation about the specifics of the work first (and to be as critical as I want), so we are pretty much straight into the public domain here. Hope I don’t say anything too daft.

    One thing Jay I and did discuss, though, was how she sees the final ‘full, expansive piece’ working, exactly; whether this would be a series of linked ‘snapshots’, perhaps a little like the material we have here, or one very long poem which integrates all the elements. I’d like to wriggle out of having an opinion on that one just now – at this stage I reckon it is a case of seeing how the work naturally develops.

    I liked this first poem, although at first glance it felt rather like two poems stuck together. As you say, Jay, there are two conflicting metaphors, and I agree the ship should be dropped.

    Jay, some specific thoughts:

    ‘I can’t help noticing her legs’ – I wondered why you were embarrassed/ reluctant to admit this observation. Or just a turn of phrase? I think it’s probably redundant.

    The elderly woman with swollen legs struggling to cross the road feels a very familiar image. I love the way that I feel at home, here – and then suddenly everything is turned inside out …

    The idea of the ‘giants’ watching our lives is intriguing. Can this be developed?

    Halfway down: ‘east to go west’ – a rogue ‘go’? Couldn’t quite follow here.

    Don’t think the ambiguous ‘as though the sun had packed it in’ is quite working. I got all tangled up in perplexing images of a sun packaging up light. Maybe just me, though.

    ‘The reel was shown anyway’ is rather a leap. Can you elaborate?

    ‘our hot spinning keeps us alive’ – I think you develop the metaphor beautifully here. A really strong, arresting image.

    ‘this is a late show,/ a matinee’ – can it be both?

    ‘the actors who can’t act …’ These two lines are rather weak.

    There was something jarring about the fact that the scene was ‘beautifully lit’; earlier, when the light was ‘pre-recorded’, I didn’t get a sense of beauty, particularly. Can you clarify?

    Finally, just to bring the focus back to the aims of this project – obviously I realise that this is just one part of a much larger whole, but I remember you said that in writing about place you wanted to write about nature. How does this particular poem relate to that? Are your aims shifting a little, perhaps? I am sure you have it all worked out but just so I am clear.

    Reply

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