Shortlisted for the T. S. Eliot Prize for Poetry 2017
The Noise of a Fly is the first collection from Douglas Dunn in sixteen years, and the first since he was awarded the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry in 2013. It is a book brimming with warmth, mischief and a self-deprecating humour, as well as with a charming, ‘Larkinesque’ a quarrel with ageing, an impatience with youth, the grievousness of losing friends and colleagues. But for all its intimate, hearthside rumination, this is a volume of poems that looks outward in equal at Scottish independence, British politics and an international refugee crisis, and reflects unflinchingly on what it is to consider oneself a contributor to society. Penned with a dexterous wit and a steady nerve, The Noise of a Fly is a mesmeric imagining of our later years by one of this country’s most senior and celebrated writers.
‘It is hard to think of many poets who can equal his combination of imaginative ambition, formal resource and range of tone . . . Written on these terms, poetry is a matter of permanent urgency.’ Sean O’Brien
‘The most respected Scottish poet of his generation.’ Nicholas Wroe
Douglas Eaglesham Dunn is a Scottish poet, academic and critic.
He was a Professor of English at the University of St Andrews from 1991, becoming Director of the University's Scottish Studies Centre in 1993 until his retirement in September 2008. He is now an Honorary Professor at St Andrews, still undertaking postgraduate supervision in the School of English. He was a member of the Scottish Arts Council (1992–1994). He holds an honorary doctorate (LL.D., law) from the University of Dundee, an honorary doctorate (D.Litt., literature) from the University of Hull and St Andrews. He became a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 1981, and was appointed an Officer of the Order of the British Empire in 2003. Terry Street, Dunn's first collection of poems, appeared in 1969 and received a Scottish Arts Council Book Award as well as a Somerset Maugham Award.
Wonderful, liquid, readable. A Speyside malt, rather than a Laphroaig. His plain-telling, workmanlike verse is refreshing. He comes across as very good company – genial and ambitionless. There's an inevitable melancholy in writing a book aged 75-ish after 15 years of publishing nothing; but it's not mawkish or sentimental or unreasonably gloomy. It's diminishing returns towards the end but this is a beautiful, understated, effortlessly controlled collection.
Dunn’s first book for almost 20 years, and a let-down. Nothing here as memorable as Terry Street (‘that man I wish him well. I wish him grass’), as pointed as Barbarians, or as tender as Elegies.
Both sensory and bookish, and brilliantly playing the role of a post modern curmedgeon, I feel Dunn saved his best, “English (a Scottish essay)” for near the end of this collection of his poems.
Occasionally too academic for my taste (and understanding), I found this contemplative and introspective collection something of a melancholic read: the author spends many words coming to terms with ageing and the ultimate destination that awaits us all. What will he leave behind? What about all the time we waste? Indeed, has he wasted his life? Surely not! Some beautiful observations and cheeky humour nestle among the morbidity and there are many poems to which I shall return...