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"At home I have a Tibetan terrier. I'm still not sure if he's a genius or very thick. It's a fine line." - Hugh Bonneville, Be running up that road Be running up that hill Be running up that building, Chew the raisin, Pay your toll sell your soul Pound for pound costs more than gold, See this world as the watchmaker would
Often it can be only one line that I enjoy in a poem I have ‘liked’ on a blog, or one I have come across when consuming the vast amount of poetry I ingest of a week. I may pick that one line out and mention it in a comment. Then again, that one line may be one of many I liked, and very, very occasionally, I like the whole piece. I find great merit in sourcing these little jewels that people squeeze from their flickering minds. Reading is as fine an inspiration for the arts as experience, more useful in fact at times in this huge melting pot of consciousness we are wading through. I do not ever criticize a piece of writing, for if an opinion is not asked for, it will rarely be welcome (I don’t mean you Heriod, you’rd a thpeshial cafse winks). However, when I have been asked for an opinion, I make sure it’s the cream of their crop I focus on – so that they see the parts that make them shine, and consider following those the paths which they excel at, and strengthening them as they go.
I say this as I have often been asked to critique pieces of writing, and have done so again of late. I am less a grammar checker for them, more a content reviewer. How smooth a piece runs, if the whole shebang makes sense, if the tenses need changing, first person, third person, twenty-seventh person and the like. Sometimes people add accents and get it horribly wrong, other times such slants are a bonus. More fine lines to tread, and not for the tactless on that side of the net, nor for those whose skin is too thin facing them with expectation on the other. Exposing yourself to public opinion is daunting enough on its own, to do so and actually ask the question – “Tell me what is wrong with this” can have a very high fear factor. This does depend to some extent upon who you are asking, but to be honest I think that if a writer asked a packet of flour that question (and the packet of flour was capable of answering), they’d still be worrying themselves sore as to the outcome. If anyone ever does meet a bag of flour that can talk, and you haven’t been taking acid at the time, then do let me know as I’d like to be its manager and run away with it to join the circus.
I have drifted. Like flour on the side of a bowl. I know the fear I speak of above, for I did just that myself before publishing my last Fragment. I handed it over to the most critical, well read person I know, and said nothing but the above – “Tell me what is wrong with it“. Barring the grammar. The content comes first.
Then I ran away and locked all the doors of the Cloud’s dungeons to hide and wait with my eyes shut tight and some fog plugged into my ears. As it happens things turned out very well in the end I’m more than happy to say, however I’d rather not do it again.
But I will do.
Because that is the only way forward. I will say however that I won’t necessarily change anything which ends up presented here purely because someone else either dislikes it, cannot grasp the meaning, or thinks it should be written in another fashion – because I know when something is too good to change (*oooh get me), and I am also aware that the Fragments and poems that emanate are not meant for everyone, therefore everyone need not ‘get it‘ when they embark upon a piece found floating here. I too hope one day to be eligible for a ‘What the Fuck are you on about?’ award. laughs They are often so beautifully created.
There’s time yet.
The idea for this post came from one line from a poem I read that struck a chord, whilst the rest was dull as dishwater to me, so here it is, and take from this post the premise that you needn’t like the whole of any singular piece of writing to gain a gem to take away and be inspired by that wee slice of prose, even if it be just one line, or phrase – there are thousands of stars in these literary skies, you just have to look with open eyes, heart and mind – whole stories can be born from them. Whole worlds.
Some examples now, of poems which I do not particularly like at all other than a…fragment;
“There are worse plagues on earth than tears.” – from ‘A Wish’ by Matthew Arnold.
“suspense on the quicksands of ambivalence is our life’s whole nemesis.” from ‘Love is a Parallax’ By Sylvia Plath
“They’d closed down the Bureau of Sad Endings” – from ‘Governors On Sominex’ by David Berman
“There is a gentle thought that often springs to life in me, because it speaks of you.” – from ‘There is a Gentle Thought’ – by Dante Alighieri
sonmi’s epitaph this time round is to be the last verse of a long, relatively tiresome poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley called – ‘To a Skylark’. I do not like the poem. I was instantly caught and held by the last verse however, (for I am long known and credited as being a ‘listener’) and it has remained with me now for some decades ;
“Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.”
And what of you my reader – are there any lines in particular that you have fallen for hook and line, whilst the rest is a sinker? Do tell.
Esme's Cloud 
It said “Be the first to like this”, and I was, that just has to count for something, right?
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More than you could ever know in the whole scheme. nods
sonmi lighting joss sticks upon the Cloud, then putting them in water as they are too stinky-poo.
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I had a ‘feeling’. I’m thinking of lines and sinkers, may get back to you on it later
The President and Founder
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“The world should listen…”
Shelley, shuddering yikes.
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I’ve never met a sinker that a cheap bottle of wine couldn’t reel me into taking a photo of. Of course, if I could just answer a question without going where I go…
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No, don’t break form, I might know what you’re on about sir and then where would we be?!!
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Thank you for this delightful article Sonmi; you show a different side to yourself each time I appear here and must have the form of the Great Cubicuboctahedron (but probably a bit curvier, wispier even in places
).
I recognise the phenomenon you describe well; though for myself, it has applied in the past to non-fiction works alone. When I all but lived in a Buddhist monastery for a score and more years, I read a variety of canonical texts and commentaries thereon, plus some contemporary thinkers who might delve into such questions as “What is it like to be a cabbage (or bat)?” and “How to reappraise emptiness?” – a vital question for our times, I’m sure you would agree.
My point is that I would sometimes come away from such a title with a single line that of itself caused elation at its apparent depth of meaning. Although this effect would last only perhaps days or weeks, it nonetheless would feel, and would be, revelatory in nature to my simple mind. I never once regretted my inability to extract more, as the overriding sensation was that the one gem pulled from the whole was the fulfilment of my purpose in the whole exercise.
A friend who is a philosopher (yes, they still do exist), is currently writing a novel and she has asked me to perform something akin to the role you describe here; not overtly stating “tell me what is wrong with this”, yet asking for frankness. Thankfully, I have discovered that she is a wonderful writer, and without ever hinting at plagiarism, her writing reminds me so much of Ian McEwan’s dry and almost imperceptibly understated wit, together with his keen eye for just enough descriptive detail. This was quite a discovery for me, and a surprise too, as she is at least half McEwan’s age, American (read that merely as ‘not English’), and of course, is a lady and not a bloke. It feels like a privilege to get an early look at her work, and if fairness applies in the arts – which it does not of course – then she will be picked up by the big publishers (not a euphemism).
H ❤ [Let’s stick to ‘H’ Sonmi, it would seem so much easier.]
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A girl of many sides am I, I am. An optical illusion before your very eyes!! (twirls in a circle and fires laser beams from her fingertips at the sky). No pointy bits mind you, well only a couple winks. That must have been quite an experience in the monastery, you have lived an interesting life H for sure. f I want to know what it feels like to be a cabbage I’ll ask some of the blokes I know who frequent the local public houses. *laughs a lot.
Sometimes more really is less. A drawn out long piece of writing can dull the mind and lose any meaning when just a few select words will have one ruminating for weeks as you say.
I’ve had some tricky cases where the writing has not been ideal but the enthusiasm in spades, so hard work, but satisfying because my suggestions tend to be happily received and more to the point acted upon I suppose. Then again I have also had your experience and felt incredibly lucky when a friend sent me some of his work to read, not critique, just read. It was actually rather exciting to be one of the first to read his prose twas so good. I could have tucked a serviette in my collar and eaten it on a butty. I’ve had people surprise me completely by being great and quite the opposite too. But I love words, and as this post says, there’s usually something in there that is worth all the effort.
I’m glad you enjoyed the post, and ‘aitch’ it is smiles ❤
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Yes. “Chew the raisin.” Although I wouldn’t call the rest a sinker; or a stinker.
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That’s a good thing. I think. smiles
sonmi saving the grapes upon the Cloud
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As someone who is not a fan of poetry, I’m sure I do miss some one-liner gems because I pass on the entire poem. But I did, nonetheless, enjoy this post, and I do get what you are saying. Still, I can’t quite get myself to invest the time and effort into reading poetry in search of a gem of a line here and there. I need to be enticed by the entire haystack before I start searching for a needle.
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I’m so pleased you liked the post. To be honest, as Hariod said, it can come from other types of writing from poetry, fact, fiction, abstract, whimsical, comments and more. And I do understand that trawling would be no fun if you aren’t keen on the format in the first place. You also have a love for words, I see it in your writing often, and enjoy it too smiles.
sonmi upon the Cloud
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If you look at the whole post from far away, it becomes one BIG wide line, I like that line
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p.s human is the world named jessie
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taps the side of her nose – say no more. Also I like that sentence, it sounds as though Yoda has had a wrinkly hand in it.
sonmi winking upon the Cloud
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Well now that is a fair point on a fine line, or rather fat line in this case.
sonmi squinting upon the Cloud
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Ode to a Grecian urn~
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“What’s a Greek urn?”
“Oh, about ten bob a week.”
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Hahahaahahahahaha
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I admire your ability to focus on the good elements of writing, and skim over the bad, Esme. Sadly, I fear I’m too often the opposite. And I all too frequently throw in my tuppence whether it’s asked for, or not. I may be slowly coming around, but suspect that I may be dead and gone before that worm has fully turned.
That being said, I give you carte blanche to “tell me what’s wrong with this” for any of my writing, as I believe that we learn best from our mistakes, and it’s not possible to do so when we’re oblivious to them. Perhaps the resolution to this apparent contradiction is in the phrase “gotta be cruel to be kind”?
And as for that final question you pose here: I can think of none at present, but I’ll try to bear it in mind from now on.
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Gosh that was 2015. I had a different name and skin then. Sonmi that was. She was fun while she lasted but Esme has more teeth.
It’s very difficult to tell someone, even with their permission what’s jarring in their writing. I went on to fully edit pieces for some people, the whole shebang, nuts a bolts grammar-wise and syntax. It works much better if it’s not public consumption of needed tweaks, so if I do spot anything, I’ll message you privately to let you know, however, you are actually very easy to read as you can write, unlike many who write but can’t write particularly well.
Esme looking at the trunk with Sonmi’s skin in it upon the Cloud
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Apart from the adjuration from my English teacher at skool cough years ago to never give up writing*, that’s possibly the finest compliment I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you, Esme, you’ve made my day.
It took me a very, very long time to come to terms with the possibility that he probably didn’t say the same thing to all his other students as a matter of course.
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