Christmas Poems
U.A. Fanthorpe (Enitharmon / Peterloo £7.95)
Review by Jehane Markham in Ambit 171
I first came across U.A. Fanthorpe’s work at an Arvon Retreat
Week, many years ago, and immediately fell for her sharp-eyed, laconic
style, which was so distinctive then, and has undoubtedly influenced
poetic voices throughout recent decades.
Christmas Poems is a joli-laide collection of what were, essentially,
private poems, sent to her friends and family as Christmas cards
and not intended for general publication. They are accompanied by
simple line drawings and ink washes from the artist, Nick Wadley.
I have to admit to a slight prejudice against Christmas books of
any kind; the words ‘Perfect stocking filler’ appear
like a cartoon bubble in my mind, swiftly followed by an image of
same book abandoned after Boxing Day, not a fate any poet would
want for their work. However, if one must buy books with a Christmas
theme, these delicate missives will not disappoint. Fanthorpe explains
in her forward that she and R.V. Bailey have been sending out poem
cards since they bought their first printing press in 1972 and discovered
the joys of printing. As she says, “Friends may jib at reading
poems... but a Christmas card can slip under anyone’s guard.”
She offers the collection up with characteristic modesty: “We
hope they may be useful in the way of small, unpretending domestic
things.”
Naturally the poems are energetic and witty, and perhaps because
they were destined for friends (children included) they have a simplicity,
even a vulnerability, about them, which is not always associated
with Fanthorpe’s work. Often they are written from an unexpected
perspective of the well known, if limited, Christmas cast, such
as Angels, Joseph, or the animals in the manger. In ‘The Tree’
she lays out the contradictions, stereotypes and traditions that
surround the ubiquitous tree:
Light is sewn through my branches,
Precious gifts wrapped in silver
Depend from my twigs. Star-crowned,
I am adored by children, cordially hated
By hoovering housewives, distrusted
By Health and Safety officers, who name me
Fire Hazard.
‘Dear True Love’ is a cunning re-working of images
from the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. In this
poem, love triumphs over materialism in the sweetest way, as the
concluding two verses suggest:
Hens, colly birds, doves –
A gastronome’s treat.
But love, did I tell you,
I’ve given up meat.
Your fairy-tale presents
Are wasted on me.
Just send me your love
And set all the birds free.
Of course Fanthorpe’s bleak sense of reality is never very
far away. ‘The Contributors’ has a dark, even depressive
tinge to it, alluding to “Our lonely overdoses, deepfrozen
bonhomie”.
Many of the poems exploit the tension between 21st century mundanities
of life and eternal human questions with a light touch that belies
the seriousness of the intent, as this from ‘Now’:
Before the Queen’s Speech
A baby’s cry
Across the morning suburbs
The Light of the World
Nick Wadley’s illustrations are humorous and will appeal
to most people. On the whole a charming book but not as good as
it must be to receive each original card personally.
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