No internet but a lot of nice things... in Ruhrort

Having been on the road in North Rhine Westphalia I rediscover the world without Internet and the world of hyper security: not one open hot spot, nothing coming in on my phone... Yet a lot is happening there in the region where artists and writers seem to flock. A bunch of "mafia knitters" are trying to soften this rather masculine environment where the rogue TV policeman Schimanski had his job cut out in getting the bad guys. In wool with flowers and gentle colors they soften this place of steel and stone.
And of course water is abundant  at the confluence of Rhine and Ruhr. It is a downtrodden area with cheap rent. The empty shop windows can be rented easily as a showplace for one's work. Of course there are improvised parties, people bringing food and drinks, grill on the roof in the old town. There is a proposal to classify Ruhrort as cultural heritage since many of the houses in 'Grunder style' still exist. Of course all the water most cellars are damp... On Easter Sunday among others these people will perform as poets or exhibit their art. I saw a beautiful cooperation where one hustled a tent ( there was a strong wind, but we were spared the rain), where another brought a small scene to stand on. Some brought enough food to share... I thank all.

Words go their own way... Das Wort geht eigene Wege/Het wooord gaat eigen wegen

 Salon 12b invited a bunch af friends and people who love poetry for the presentation of a translation into German of a book by Annie Reniers: Het woord gaat eiegen wegen/Das Wort geht eigene Wege, published by world internet books. It is the first book in the wib classic series. The original Dutch book was published in 1981. Both poet translator read the section 'Japanese suite', having both been to Japan in the past, Fred Schywek knew what she meant in writing this section. Annie Reniers is a philosopher, and was professor in Esthetics at the Brussels University( VUB) and a well known poet.

As you can see all listened attentively. The reading in some solemn cadences and thoughtful phrazing was highly appreciated also by people who were not used to listen to rather abstract poetry.

 Some who could judge the quality of the German translation, praised it highly. Of course a salon  implies that at the end there is an open mike: Frank De Vos read, Fred Schywek, German author, read some of his own poetry, Silent Bear, Anne C. read a moving letter to Annie and also two poems in German remembering Reiner Kunze's eightieths birthday. Even I read a few poems...

There was cake and apple pie, deviled eggs and chicken and of course wine and cava and non alcoholic drinks...
Every body seemed to go home happy.

PEN-Resolutions - action and young writers

 The morning was passed in voting for the new board members and the resolutions about situations in too many countries that have to change.

The resolution about Belarus was one of them. The Russian embassy is at walking distance of the Harpa, where we work all week. So the resolution was brought to them and given to the ambassador.  A short, but effective action which gave us a bit of fresh air.

The New Voices Award is a prize for young writers who read for us and the jury telling us why they were part of the short list. We listened to the reading s of these young, new, promising writers and I did admire the diversity: One from Mexico, one from South Africa and one from Canada. All three wrote about there own place, grounded in their different realities. After  we had a talk about 'Languages with few speakers', never say a 'small language': if you can translate Shakespeare in it a language is rich and not small...

Closet introvert?

Do I discover myself a closet introvert? I am not shy, talk easily to a total stranger, enjoy the company of a few good friends, small groups are still more or less doable but big events are hard on me. Then I fall in the role of the observer, no longer a participant, because I can't do the chitchat. So I watch from the sideline, may find one or two people to talk with and usually I leave early. My brain buzzes with all the stimulation. I can't sleep, thoughts twirling and swirling... Probably I also need more alone time than most to quieten my mind, watch the clouds sail by, observe the changes in the light during the day. In meetings I am ok because, although it is a large group, one speaks to the chairperson or the group in general and about practical things or principles one cares about. With some friends living far away I can even talk for half an hour or longer on the phone, whereas making a normal 'taking care of business' call can be postponed for days. Well the strange chemistry of our brain... maybe this is why I became an avid reader and a blogger in splendid isolation.

Juli Zeh - Hilde Keteleer

I don't know why I deserved a present by Hilde, but there it was 'Nullzeit' by German author Juli Zeh. Hilde Keteleer translated this book into Dutch and knowing her quality I am sure she did a great job. Hilde will interview Juli Zeh on May 2nd at 1 pm in the Permeke Library in Antwerp. Nullzeit is zero-time in diving. This novel is an ingenious construction with a seemingly simple enough story. A dysfunctional couple travels to a faraway island to learn how to dive as a preparation for the leading role in a movie. The novel interweaves information about diving, descriptions of the volcanic island and the inner life of the main characters. One could say that 'Water' is the main character getting the best and the worst out of the human protagonists. The psychological crime novel is craftily constructed: changing narrative positions Most of it as told by Sven (the diving instructor) yet the interspersed by diary fragments by Jola, the rich actress hoping for a role. The reason for this construction becomes clear in the lasts pages of the book. The underwater descriptions are really pleasant to read and instructive just as the description of The Dorset, a famed painstakingly restored sailboat. The relationship between Jola and Theo are bordering on the sadistic and/or masochistic.

Sven is kind of forlorn in this and his girlfriend Antje is the no-nonsense element at the end regretting her choices. There is a nice fluidity to the book, in the writing and the elaborate construction which one sees only at the very end. I am always glad to learn something new. I didn't know this German author and thank Hilde for her present.

The Gierik reading in den Hopsack

Eight poets had been announced. One however, René Hooybergs had caught a nasty virus and couldn't make it. He was aptly interpreted by Tin Vankerkom, who memorized His and her texts and then performs them with a very expressive rendering. Yet in a way there were more than eight voices to be heard. One poet writes under three heteronyms, which is kind of being some one else, like Pessoa, the great Portuguese poet did. In this way a reading by Sven Peeters can become a reading by three or four different voices, bringing the presence of Balkan poets, their longing for a far away friend, nightly forages through cafés and bars. Ahh, the schizophrenia of belonging to different  parts of the world. Sven Cooremans read intimate poetry. I didn't know this poet. His detailed language shifts and thus reaches out to you, makes you pay attention since he is telling you something important you need to know. Vera Alexander Beerten's work I have known and appreciated since a long time. She read 'Kindertotenlieder', a cycle dealing with the death of 35 children, when crossing a river on a raft which capsized while trying to go to the other side of the village. Moving. Richard Foqué, with sonorous voice read 'landscapes' and very structured poems, brought peace and rest. The most important guest  was Guy Commerman, one of the two founding fathers of Gierik. I love his quiet way, his sense of relativity, his gentle humor and yes his poetry. he opened and drew us all into the evening. The MC of the evening was Frank De Vos, introducing every poet in the superlatives, they deserve, reading the first poem of the book the poets were reading from. Form the bilingual Traces/Sporen I read a poem which had some music in it since that was the official theme.

Like the bird

singing till the morn

of her last day

whistling waveringly

softer than a male

but with a courage of her own

was killed

by others

because her song

disturbed

so will I sing

and if sometime somewhere

in a Laundromat

someone speaks about this singing

like she about Garcia Lorca spoke

and danced to his bloody word

then my song

is heard.

Slide show of the evening by Fred Schywek
The Gierik reading brought fun memories of the redaction meetings at my place, each  one involving a bottle of Whiskey (mainly drunk by Dirk Claus) and a bottle of Genever and also a home cooked meal. 

Poetry in the park in Hoboken

 It was a wonderful afternoon: Easy talk among like minded friends, good poetry read. The choice of musicians grand. Left, poets listening to poets reading. Right Roger Nupie and Vera Alexander Beerten. Roger read naughty homo erotic poetry, lighthearted and fun. Vera read a cycle of poems about 34 children drowning on a Friday night during the war. Chilling to the bone. The words smuggled in all had to do with caring for one or other issue or being moved by something. The audience was wonderful participating in the exchange with poets: looking up at the leaves in the dappled light, repeating words when a poet asked them to...

 

It was all great stuff. The extra appearance of Iron Maiden lead singer Blaze Bayley was a pleasant surprise. Many reasons to be grateful.

Books

I read a lot, I love books. Yet some of my friends are shocked at how I treat my books. Usually in pencil, yet also in pen and ink or anything that will write, I make notes in my books. Underlining, adding exclamation marks, putting in the initials of whom I should send a specific quote to. Sometimes an elaboration, a yes! Or No! No! Sometimes when rereading a book years later, I don't even recognize my younger self. There was a time that books that weren't in almost unread, virginal state wouldn't be bought nor sold in a second hand shop. yet that has changed in the last years. Books belonging to authors, writing in a book they have read, have now become more valuable and are considdered a tool in literary studies. In 'De Brakke Hond' in the section called 'Glimpen' by Paul Claes I read a note about a very industrious librarian who had erased all the penciled in notes and remarks from Dutch poet Jan Leopold in a book of poetry by Mallarmé. It is a shame we lost the insights and comments in the margins. It is I guess like looking in through an illuminated window, or reading over another's shoulder...sharing a thought with an unknown person.