Reading The Poets of The People’s Journal, edited by Kirstie Blair, I am so far maist impressed by by the mock-rustic ‘Poute’ (Alexander Burgess), wha conducts a sort of omnisatire, in that he critiques mid-19th century assumptions about poetry, the lower class poet, poetry in Scots, and the means of its reproduction, using unorthography as […]
Yesterday, I went to Edinburgh to take part in the NLS’ first research slam. The format was similar to a poetry slam: twelve participants gave a (strictly enforced) two minute overview of their research. A panel of three expert judges scored us on content, performance and audience reaction. The top eight went through to the second round, in which we had two minutes to describe how we worked with NLS collections. From these eight, a final three would be given three minutes each to describe the planned impact of their research.
I’m used to public speaking, but I was nervous. This was down to a combination of the competitive element – I’ve never been someone who seeks out a competition – and doubt that my attempts at humorous verse would go down well with the crowd, or, indeed, the judges. The first round was alphabetical, and I was roughly in the middle of the list, among a fantastic array of subjects, including canal navvies, Scottish gymnastics, and the ethics of child labour. This was what I came out with:
1 – An overview of your research; 2 minutes
Come one, come all, and gather round,
If you listen unto me
I will tell you a tale of Victorian times
And all the Poets o Dundee.
With help from Dundee Central Library
And Strathclyde University
I map the meanings of song and verse
To Dundee’s past community.
There’s mony who the sands of time
Have buried deep in history
But folk have always wrote and sung
Upon the streets of Bonny Dundee
Blind Hughie stood out in his kilt
He sang old songs and ballads well
In City Square folk gathered round
To hear how the hoose o Airlie fell
The wild side o auld Dundee
Met at the Poet’s Box in Overgate
If you’d a penny you could get a song
To sing of humour, love or fate
The place where poets’ fame began
Was on the pages of the daily press
Many sheaves of verse were sent
To Mr Leng at his bank street address.
Many a factory shift was helped
By song to speed the hours by
In summer the mill’s bards would write
Of trips to glens and mountains high.
Dundee was called a radical toon
And verse on banners oft was seen
As people clamoured for the vote
Alang the streets and Madlin Green.
You see how folk in days gone by
Told the stories of the toon
The people, politics and place
Some never written doon.
We mind their verse now in Dundee
And write new words to say
The spirit in this town of ours
Is just as strong today.
This is an adapted version of a poem I’ve used before in events. Victorian Dundonians make poetry look like fun, so joining in to spread their fame seemed appropriate. I don’t think I would have got very far in the People’s Journal back in the day with this standard, but I might have made a few pennies shouting at people in pubs. While we waited for the judges to calibrate the scores, host Graeme Hawley (who is no stranger to a poetry slam himself) entertained us with quick-fire volleys through the collections, covering violent imagery on crisp packets and casual sexism in DIY magazines. Having heard my name on the list of those going on, I began doing more deep breathing, and prepared to share more educational doggerel:
2: How your research uses NLS’ collections; 2 minutes
Trains aren’t cheap, stipends small, archive boxes heavy
Get your broadsides on a website already…
For the NLS created the Word on the Street
Though in Dundee we’d creh it the word on the pavey
An array of fine broadsides compiled so neat
From Scotland across, scanned and annotated
These lyrical gems from the library’s archive
Which tell of murder and love and of political shade
Sold by hawkers and shops and sung on the streets live
Can be searched by their topic or the time they were made.
One hero of our tale’s bold Harvey of Stirling
Who wrote about broadsides and chapbooks of Scotland
On his death his collections left libraries birling
To preserve and to shelter his Victorian songsheets
Now many lie safe here ‘neath Edinburgh’s streets
Though you can view them from Glasgow or Greenwich or Guam
As long as you can log in on a computer or tablet
So I can work with these broadsides wherever I am
Data’s very important in this modern era
So a spreadsheet I’ve made, tis long and tis wide
With titles from Dundee, NLS and the Mitchell
For to quantify functions of the humble broadside.
I will sort them by date by the address they’ve printed
For the Poet’s Box moved up and down Overgate
And see which songs stayed popular over the decades
And which ones were left to a forgotten fate.
Considering the quality of the other slammers – who included artists, family history researchers and historical tour guides as well as a few other PhD students and academics – I was very surprised to be chosen as one of the final three who got to talk about their plans for impact. The other two were Leonie Dunlop, a toponymist who conjured up the joy of uncovering layers of expanding meaning from a place name; and Maggie Symonds, whose story of tracing a mysterious limpet-eating ancestor lit up hidden histories of social change.
By this point in the composition process, my inner McGonagall was struggling. So (not really expecting to get this far) I’d drafted a freeform meditation on the meaning of impact and why we do it, featuring nods to my two favourite Geddeses (Geddi?), Patrick and James Young. I have never felt that ‘impact’ style activities were an add-on to my research, rather, they are an integral part of what I do as a PhD student (and as a person). So I got up and did this:
3. The impact you hope your research will have; 3 minutes.
I could now cite big plans to fit government metrics,
increasing the value of heritage tourism,
working with stakeholders, I am well versed in buzzwords.
But impact is in the eyes of the impacted,
and to paraphrase a former Dundee botanist:
Our task as academics is not to coerce people
into an approved type of culture
against their associations, wishes and interests
as we often find bad schemes trying to do.
I will run tours of the city through poetry,
proclaiming others’ words to anyone who’ll listen,
hold stalls in shopping centres for craft events, write
new broadsides, sweet-talk local poets
into running workshops, propose
courses for adult education programmes
and all of these are vitally important
and keep me up at night and make me glad to be alive
but they are all only tiny bits of a whole.
What these archives of song and story and place are,
they are the words and the work of centuries of ordinary people.
I am here to remind you not that that it is there
but that it is yours,
to read, rewrite, be inspired by,
rip up and start again, ignore it if you see fit.
The only meaningful impact cannot be measured
By counting boxes ticked at the end of an event.
Diagnosis before treatment: one plan will not fit all
The parish is the cosmos, so start small,
People sang Dundee into being when it was cotton and jute
Which wove old streets into strange landscapes
Reinvention is nothing new to this city
And neither, dear old town, is revolution.
I can’t save the world alone with history
But we could together if you’re all with me.
Dramatic, moi? As the judges discussed the final scores, Graeme performed a piece he often does for poetry slams, dedicated to the non-successful participants. “Our fireworks went off in daylight.”
He was clearly used to building suspense – calling for another round of applause for judges or audience when we thought we were going to hear the winner’s name. When I heard mine, followed by applause, I nearly fell off my chair, but managed to get up again to say some very incoherent thank yous to the room.
The prize is a slot in the NLS events programme -likely to be in the autumn at some point. I’m not sure what we are allowed to do with this slot, but I have several ideas – have you ever wondered how the National Library would be as a music hall? Watch this space – I promise not to write any more poetry…