"William McGonagall, the worst poet in history", a lecturer said, and I was hooked. Or, well, at least bought his selected works soon after. Now I've read it twice and, while I do agree he can be quite horrific at times, I must profess that I find some satisfaction in reading this passionate man's questionable poetry.
The book picks some of the worst or best, however you see it, and divides them in to thematic sections. We get poems of praise, ones of disaster, and even ones against the negative effects of alcohol consumption introduced and given background to by Colin Walker. Along the way the reader is given a glimpse of the world that inspired such wretched (sic) lines.
And they are bad in many ways. McGonagall is obsessed with rhymes, but is not overtly good at them. So we get meandering lines that end in rhymes that repeat themselves sometimes even in the same poem. The images created also often more than subtle just as the mixed metaphors are plentiful.
Then again, McGonagall gained his fame in times when bad poetry was perhaps not as readily available in public. Now, with all kinds of internet sources filled with personal poetry, mistakenly brought into public eye, McGonagall does not look, if not as bad, but certainly not alone in his horribleness.
As I read the collection on and as I perhaps became used to his, well, style, I began to look upon William and, to a certain extent, his work in a more positive light. Beneath the horrid rhymes (not unlike ones that I've myself scribbled on some notebooks) lies a man (perhaps mistakenly) certain about his calling and seemingly deaf to any who sought to put him down. If nothing else, his works and actions display a passion that perhaps is missing from the works of some more "naturally talented" poets. I would never had the guts to print and distribute my poems and stubbornly decide to make my living through them despite the heckles. No, William was quite a special man to a certain unfortunate extent. Sadly, if he would live now, he would mostly likely be a reality television star or a source of memes.
Anyways, all these positive feelings about William, which were also helped by the sympathy for the underdog raised by Walker's constant and by the end repetitive jeers, almost made the poems seem better than their reputation affords them. Luckily, the last sections contained the wonderful "The Battle of El-Teb", whose beginning stanza reminded why McGonagall bears the title he has.
"YE sons of Great Britain, I think no shame
To write in praise of brave General Graham!
Whose name will be handed down to posterity without any stigma,
Because, at the battle of El-Teb, he defeated Osman Digna."
Ah, terrible beauty still lives.