John Burnside was a Scottish writer. He was the author of nine collections of poetry and five works of fiction. Burnside achieved wide critical acclaim, winning the Whitbread Poetry Award in 2000 for The Asylum Dance which was also shortlisted for the Forward and T.S. Eliot prizes. He left Scotland in 1965, returning to settle there in 1995. In the intervening period he worked as a factory hand, a labourer, a gardener and, for ten years, as a computer systems designer. Laterly, he lived in Fife with his wife and children and taught Creative Writing, Literature and Ecology courses at the University of St. Andrews.
This book is five star material and I'm only on page 26. I've never seen poetry put on the page like this. Lots of references are Scottish but its images and themes are universal. So amazing, and I expect it to remain so. It was recommended by an idol (Mike Heron) so again I'm predisposed to like it but I wouldn't imagine he'd recommend anything other than something fabulous.
This is one darn beautiful book so I hope some poetry types will start some comments so it won't fall by the wayside.
This was a wonderful trip. Such longing, the boats in the harbour, the taste of tar and nicotine and the smoke that vanishes in the cold air. One poem caused me to tear up. There's a kind of nostalgia in this, yet at the same time it tries to grasp the Now. The last poem was exceptional, caused shivers running down my spine. I love the way Burnside writes: he is very specific, there is a lot of tastes and smells and garlic and the mornings are like buttermilk. Come to think of it, this was maybe one of the best poetry books I've ever read in my life. Will definitely check more books that he has written.
I enjoyed the Asylum Dance itself, the longing is almost palpable in the young man seeking something he cannot possess. The other poems are well-constructed and have beautiful religious symbolism in the works. It's not an easy read.
'Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.' This comment by Eliot has far too often been used as a manifesto by New Critics, who believe that there is something intrinsic in poetry that can be universally comprehended, or poetic 'purists', who think that any attempt to understand or 'analyse' poetry is to defile it. I have always found these views, and therefore Eliot's comment, disagreeable, but reading Burnside's poetry has changed my mind ever so slightly. Each poem in The Asylum Dance truly does 'communicate before it is understood'. A transforming read.