Culture

‘Rule Britannia’ When Britain first, at Heaven’s command,     Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land,     And guardian angels sung this strain:  ‘Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;  Britons never will be slaves.’ The nations, not so blest as thee     Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free,     The dread and envy of them all.  ‘Rule’ etc. Still more majestic shalt thou rise,     More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies     Serves but to root thy native oak.  ‘Rule’ etc.

Before we begin, Paul Durcan produces a piece of paper. Just ten minutes previously, he felt a sudden urge, he says, to remember the last verse from W.H Auden’s ‘Fall of Rome’. He raises the note, which he’s scribbled on with black biro, projecting each word with a careful steady cadence: ‘All together elsewhere, vast/ Herds of reindeer move across/ miles and miles of golden moss/ Silently and very fast.’ We’re here to talk about Durcan’s 22nd collection of poetry Praise In Which I Live and Move And Have My Being, but the conversation has strayed to a time when the naive 19-year-old poet arrived in London in search of work. The year was 1964. He came with his friend and fellow poet: the late Michael Hartnett.

‘Jordan’s fourth biography, that’s vanity.  Only writers are subjected to this kind of inquisition about how their work reaches the viewer,’ quipped a panelist at a recent Birkbeck University event on self-publishing. Someone had mentioned the pejorative, ‘vanity press’ and the room of writers stirred. All were seated in neat rows in a wood paneled lecture hall off Russell Square. Appropriate given that Virginia Woolf, who once lived two blocks away, self-published. Previously, this was known as private publishing.

The journalist and author Mary Killen is in the limelight this week. In addition to writing the Dear Mary column in the Spectator every week, she has written a self-help book about the loving Queen. How the Queen Can Make You Happy will be published on 1 June. 1) As a child, what did you read under the covers? The William stories by Richmal Crompton and the The Passion Flower Hotel, which turned out to be secretly written not by a schoolgirl but by Roger Longrigg the father of Fan Longrigg, the singer and producer of The Land of Sometimes a charming 2012 CD to inspire musical participation in children, Sir Robert Mayer-style.  . 2) Has a book ever made you cry, and if so which one?

Britain can look back with pride and nostalgia to the great Olympic Games of the past.  London in 1908, and the so-called ‘austerity Games’ of 1948, were great triumphs. Against the odds of time and money, these were Games to savour — etched in the memory with flickering black-and-white images of hope.  This is the third time that London has held the Games (no other city can match this) but London has bid for them only once — for the 2012 Games. The Olympics of 1908 and 1948 came to London because no-one else wanted them. Bizarrely, and this may tell us much about Britain’s sporting and class-bound heritage, all three of London’s Games have been masterminded by lords. The latest of the trio is Lord Coe, Baron Coe of Ranmore.

Sun Tzu is responsible for the age-old cliché about knowing your enemy. I wonder, then, what he might have made of Poetry of the Taliban, edited by Alex Strick Van Linschoten and Felix Kuehn. This is a new collection of verses translated from Pashtun and Urdu. The poems originally appeared on Mujahedeen websites, in newsheets or on scraps of paper. You might expect the poems to be reactionary or propagandistic — and, for sure, there is blood and thunder. But reviewers also talk of empathy, aesthetic sensibility and the familiar worries of young men in love. Michael Semple, the EU’s former representative in Afghanistan, said: ‘This is an essential work.