Following on from the other day’s rules for writing poetry, and last week’s Guardian feature on tips for writing fiction, here are – at the suggestion of Chris Hamilton-Emery – my ‘rules’ for reading poetry.
I found on closer inspection that this is all in aid, really, of Elmore Leonard’s book 10 Rules for Writing, which is about to be published in the UK. But what’s with the rules? Why are we looking to other people for rules suddenly? What ever happened to tips, examples, technical expertise? Is it true that more people want to write even fiction than want to read it? And is that such a bad thing? Is it not better for them to be uselessly employed in making something than in merely passively consuming the things other people have made? Or must we preserve X percent of the nation’s attention for the consumption of that which is worth consuming?
How does this craze – if it is a craze, and not just human nature – compare with the fact that almost every pre-Victorian young lady and many of her uncles wrote verses? Is not the urge to record, to make testament, the second or third human urge? (I put it after food, naturally; but babies and toddlers have it in abundance, as do infant and new cultures.)
Anyway, people do still love reading. I really think they do. Even if they don’t do much of it there is an unresolved hankering. There is even an unresolved hankering for poetry, I see it everywhere and I hear about it from the most unlikely people. They are everywhere among us. And I feel for them, because there was a time when I knew there was a vast sea of poetry out there, but even I, with my lifelong interest and background, didn’t know where the port was. So here are my rules for the general reader, and I hope they are some help.
1. Don’t be afraid of the poem! It may be a puzzle but it’s not a trap. The poet will have wanted to give you pleasure of some kind.
2.Don’t fall into the trap of thinking one kind of poetry is “good” and another is “bad.” Be open-minded, read, and see how you react to things.
3. Don’t worry if you don’t understand everything. Read it some more and see what you do understand. You might just like the sounds or the colours or two lines of it. That’s fine.
4. Listen to it in your head as you read it. You can read it aloud if you like, but you don’t have to.
5. Poems, like novels, are different. Some are harder, easier, funnier, more serious. If you don’t like one you might well like another.
6. There is nothing wrong with themed anthologies. They are a great way of learning who the poets are and who you like.
7. Seek advice! It’s like with anything else. You want a new hairdresser, you ask your friends. You want to decide what movie to see, you ask your friends. Poetry’s not secret, you can talk to people about it.







Dear Katy
What happened to the last three rules? I would add: Don’t be afraid of the poet’s reputation. A lot of people think that any poem by, say, Seamus Heaney has to be a work of genius. Be just as critical of him as anybody else. I am curious about the poetry books on the Baroque bookshelves as I can only make out half the titles. Perhaps you could provide us with a comprehensive list sometime!
Best wishes from Simon
Simon, you’re right. It’s only seven rules. I can write but I can’t count!
I’m in the mood for a new picture at the top, but I don’t have a good one. The selection above is roughly alphabetical, runs from Dante Alighieri to Robert Creeley, and is – very importantly – several years old. Many books even then were not on the shelf, and now it’s even worse. And I may have got rid of the Creeley.
Dear Katy
Please keep the picture. It gives me something to decipher whilst I’m waiting for you to post my comments!
Best wishes from Simon
Thank you for this! I liked your rules, or tips if you prefer.
Dear Katy
I’ve thought of a couple more rules to take you up to ten. Here they are:-
9) Start off with some well-known names like Yeats, Eliot, Auden and MacNeice to give yourself a sound idea of what real poetry actually looks like.
10) Always judge the poem rather than the poet. Good poets often write poor poems and average poets occasionally produce good ones.
Hope you find these helpful!
Best wishes from Simon
If possible, and this is so much more practicable now, listen to the poet’s speech. It doesn’t have to be the poem in question – or any poem. Les Murray sounded flat to me until I heard him read.
The article in The Guardian is great. Most of the writers have better rules than Elmore Leonard, whose work I’ve never liked. Margaret Atwood’s advice is brilliant. “Do back exercises!” I don’t do back exercises but ten years ago I spent £900 on a good chair and my back has been fine ever since.
When it comes to reading poetry my rule is “Never pay more than you have to.” Editions of works by Blake can be prohibitively expensive but I spotted a Longman annotated completed poems the other week and it was only £20. This was out of print for many years and I missed it desperately after my ex-girfriend borrowed it and left it in a telephone box in 1979. Ezra Pound’s Cantos were the most expensive poems I’ve ever bought and I’m not entirely sure they were value for money. My life has been enriched by EP but the chair was definitely the better buy.
Pingback: Poetry 101 #2 « altering labyrinth
Joseph, thanks for your very apposite and amusing comment. The loss of the book through loan in 1979 is indeed terrible; one thing I have on my conscience is a big anthology of Russian poetry I borrowed from someone in that very year, and then lost touch with…
t, I love Les Murray.
Good rules.
I’ve finally got around to linking your blog to my own. I’m very bad at doing this kind of thing but aim to get better.