‘A LITTLE POETRY JEWEL’ IN OUR REGION
Richard O’Brien finds out more about the Poetry Book Society.
In 2016, a piece of literary history came to the North East. The Poetry Book Society was founded in 1953 by T. S. Eliot to ‘share the joy of poetry,’ but fifty years later it was in challenging financial circumstances. Help arrived in the form of Inpress Books – a sales and marketing agency for independent publishers based in Newcastle. With Inpress taking over the PBS portfolio, disaster was averted, and the result is a ‘little poetry jewel’ on our doorstep, in the words of Megan Robson, a North Shields resident who works as the Society’s Operations Assistant, and publishes poetry under the name Megan Pattie.
When this specialised role came to the region, Megan jumped at the chance: ‘I was always told that if you want to work with books you have to be in London, and I’m stubborn to a fault.’ But the PBS is part of an overall change, as the North East is becoming ‘much more of a publishing and particularly a poetry hub.’ Hybrid working practices that sprang up during the pandemic have begun to level the playing field, making the pull of the capital less magnetic. In recent years bigger publishers, like Harper North and Hachette, have opened local offices, while for the first time this year the prestigious Forward Prizes ceremony took place in Durham.
The PBS fulfils a vital role in this ecosystem. Once a quarter it chooses the best new poetry book to deliver to members, making four recommendations and commending pamphlets and translated work. An important accolade for writers, the recommendations are also useful in helping booksellers and readers decide what to stock and buy in a crowded market. Being selected can be a big boost for writers publishing with smaller, independent presses, and a diverse team of selectors ensures that a broad range of perspectives are involved in the choice. Current selectors include Yomi Sode and Victoria Kennefick, while recent picks include Songbook, by MOBO-winning jazz musician Joshua Idehen.
For poets just starting out, there are ample opportunities on the local scene: Megan mentions open mic nights at Baba Yaga’s (both in North Shields and Whitley Bay) and ‘Out of Your Head’ at the Cumberland Arms as particularly welcoming spaces. She also often recommends local authors through her free ‘Meg’s Monday Muse’ email newsletter for the PBS. And a recent competition, run in tandem with Nexus, gave writers one of the biggest local platforms there is: the winning poem on the theme of ‘Care,’ judged by North East poet Jane Burn, will go on display soon at Longbenton Metro station. Keep an eye out for next year’s callout, and it might be your words reaching the commuters of North Tyneside!
Readers can find out more about the PBS, join the society, and browse their huge range of books and pamphlets at https://www.poetrybooks.co.uk/, or find them on Instagram @PoetryBookSociety and X @PoetryBookSoc. Megan Robson is on all social media @pattiepoetry; you can buy her work at pattiepoetry.bigcartel.com, or read some on the adjacent pages.
Two poems by Megan Pattie
Sparrows
They’re familiar as fenceposts, so it’s easy to forget
that when a hedgerow halloos, chockablock chattering
bang in the middle of humdrum houses and the quiet
of afternoons, it is a kind of casting
that doles out like laughter a lively contentment,
and ruffles butterflies with a flourish of feathers;
that draws all the day to note this twitching curtain
of wink-giggle leaves, where the spuggies hide.
The thing is, wonder doesn’t always come
in lofty flights of crimson and indigo,
but settles, soft and sparrow-brown,
and sings from the nearness of your garden.
Bus Trips in Childhood
Bodies braced with loose bent knees
we surfed the top deck, hands hovering
near the handrail but never holding.
Heedless of our guardians’ hearts
stopping their mouths, we grinning
looked forward to corners and roundabouts,
knowing nothing of the way and so sure
that we could win over gravity
as the force that carried us forward
rattled us this way and that.
