Poetry

Wednesday

David Crane

His own best biographer

From our UK edition

Byron in Love, by Edna O’Brien ‘We would entreat him to believe that a certain portion of liveliness, somewhat of fancy, is necessary to constitute a poem,’ wrote Henry Brougham in the Edinburgh Review, when the young Byron was unwise enough to expose his first, dismal book of juvenilia to the gaze of ‘Citizen Mob’, ‘and that a poem in the present day, to be read, must contain at least one thought, either in a little degree different from the ideas of former writers or differently expressed’. It is as well for a lot of us that there seem to be different standards for biographers ,because there can be even less to be said for a new book about Byron than there is for most literary retreads.

Wednesday

Alex Massie

The Deil’s Awa Wi’ the Exciseman (and several others)

From our UK edition

Can this really be true? And if so, is it hilarious or horrifying? Or, perhaps, both... David Gest and, of all people, Michael Jackson are recording an album of Robert Burns' poetry: Gest's spokesman said the album is a modern musical take on some of Burns' classic poems, and had been a long cherished project. He explained that he and Jackson were originally planning to do a musical about Burns's life, but decided instead to turn his poetry into show tunes. Poems featured on the album include Ae Fond Kiss and Tam O'Shanter, the story of a man from Ayr who stays too long in a pub and witnesses a satanic vision on his trip home. Gest is now keen to tackle Red Red Rose, he said. "We haven't changed the lyrics but the music is now modern and brought up to date," Gest said.

Monday

Alex Massie

Prime Hutton

From our UK edition

Lovely story told by Simon Hoggart in his Guardian column at the weekend: The death of Simon Gray lets me reprise a favourite story. He was a close friend of Harold Pinter, a great cricket lover. Once Pinter wrote a poem about his hero Len Hutton. It read, in its entirety "I saw Hutton in his prime / Another time, another time." He sent it to several of his friends. Soon afterwards Pinter and Gray were at the same dinner party and Pinter asked what he thought of the poem. "I don't know, Harold," said Gray. "I'm afraid I haven't finished it yet.