Sunday, 22 September 2024

Poems rooted in an ageing brain

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For me, and others of a certain age, poems from childhood and youth are stored deep in the memory, buried like daffodil bulbs, bursting out again from time to time, sometimes word-for-word. These poems, in particular the narrative ones, must have partly formed the bedrock of my love of reading and writing historical fiction. 

In primary school, the thumping rhythm of Young Lochinvar, grabbed me, as did my mental image of the bold, romantic hero of Scott’s poem.

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;

And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,

He rode all unarm’d and he rode all alone.

So faithful in love and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

 

As for a heroic villain, violent action and vivid images, Alfred Noyes’ poem The Highwayman had a powerful impact on my ten-year-old self.

 

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding—

Riding—riding—

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

 

At secondary school, the literary ballads of Coleridge (How could I forget Richard Burton’s reading of The Ancient Mariner?) and Tennyson introduced elements of the supernatural and religion, to add to the themes which are the stuff of popular historical fiction: love, betrayal, revenge, crime and punishment and mystery.

 

Then, reading some compelling shorter poems in historical settings by later poets, inspired me to imagine the full stories behind these verses. For example, in Walter de la Mare’s The Listeners, what was the purpose of the traveller’s visit?

 

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,

Knocking on the moonlit door….

 

and who are the victims and aggressors in W.H Auden’s

 

O what is that sound which so thrills the ear
Down in the valley drumming, drumming?
Only the scarlet soldiers, dear,
The soldiers coming……..

 

and what happened to traitor and victims in The Castle by Edwin Muir?

 

Poets such as these must have felt the pull of the ancient art of story telling in verse, as well as the desire to re-create historical settings. Such memorable works have stayed with me for more years than I care to mention and influence me still.



For more posts by Clare Hawkins visit her blog: https://clarehawkins.com


Tuesday, 9 January 2024

‘The Flight of the Heron’ re-visited by Clare Hawkins


As a goody-goody fourteen-year-old, in the mid 1960s, I never complained about the compulsory ‘home readers’ chosen by our English teacher, Miss Howieson. These novels were supposed to extend our experience of literature, beyond her longitudinal and exhaustive approaches to the classroom study of ‘The Ancient Mariner’ and ‘Hamlet’. Though not universally popular in our class, Miss Howieson’s ‘home reader’ choices ignited in me a love of historical fiction. 

           One of the most memorable novels was D.K. Broster’s ‘The Flight of the Heron’, a tale set in the time of the ill-fated Jacobite rebellion against the Hanoverian British monarchy of George 11. The story centres on the relationship between a young highland chieftain, Ewen Cameron, and an English redcoat officer Keith Windham. An old highland ‘seer’ predicts five meetings of the two and, as they both become embroiled in the conflict on opposite sides, each encounter produces stronger bonds of mutual respect and regard. 

            My re-reading of the novel, after nearly 60 years, has surprised me in several ways. I knew nothing about the writer, D.K. Broster, beyond the fact that she was a woman. I hadn’t realised at the time, that she had been a student at St Hilda’s College in Oxford (although then women could not be awarded degrees), that she had no Scottish connections and that the book was first published in 1925. The style is of its period, complex and descriptive in parts, sometimes over-written, with some cringe-making dialogue (Ewen Cameron’s conversations with his fiancĂ©e Alison) and some references which would be simply laughable to a modern readership. The frequent use of Gaelic and the representation of lowland Scots dialect are also characteristic of 19th century writers. 

            A 21st century treatment of the story and the themes would be very different. The relationship between Ewen and Keith reveals a sensitivity and near eroticism, elements which would likely be more fully explored by a modern writer. Also, unlike many historical war novels published today, there are no direct accounts of the violent battles between the two sides, in spite of the fact that the brutality of the Duke of Cumberland’s troops against the highland survivors of the deciding battle of Culloden is well documented. Nowadays this novel might not fit neatly into a clear genre ‘slot’, with its basis of thorough and scholarly research, complex characterisation, detailed evocation of place, along with a strong romantic/sentimental element. Partly for this reason, and also because I recalled just a little of my teenage self, falling in love first with Ewen and then with Keith, I thoroughly enjoyed re-visiting it.