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Vale Royal
An epic poem, some years in gestation, by the poet who has become known as the voice of Kings Cross. "The fate of this degraded, fought-over, misrepresented landscape, between the nexus of railway stations and the loop of the canal, is what concerns the poet; publication, achieved after twenty years of struggle, he saw as merely inevitable". Launched in 1995 to critical acclaim at a live performance this limited edition book contains two CDs of the poet reading his own work.
- GenresPoetry
129 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1995
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May 14, 2023
This review first appeared on The HighWindow at: https://thehighwindowpress.com/2023/0...
The legendary history of Britain is an accumulation of facts, wishful thinking, and poetic hallucinations tracing the founding of Britain back to Brutus, great-grandson of that Aeneas who fled both Troy and Dido to found Rome. Exiled for patricide, Brutus found his way to Britain where he set up his New Troy, Troynovant, on the banks of the Thames. Later, a descendant, Llud, who had trouble with dragons, changed the city’s name to Kaer Lud, and by a series of improbable linguistic changes the city became London.
First given coherent written form by Geoffrey of Monmouth at the beginning of the 12th century, the story ended with the consolidation of Anglo-Saxon rule.
In Vale Royal, Aidan Andrew Dun extends the legendary history into the 18th century, creating a new, compelling story for the city of London and for Kings Cross in particular.
Written in three line verses the author calls triads, Vale Royal is divided into four sections. A brief section at the start serves as introduction and invitation to enter the poem’s ‘forest of intricate hallucinations’ and then two numbered Cycles are followed by a section of Notes.
‘Cycle One’ begins in the specific geography of King’s Cross but slides into the 18th century, where William Blake is a small boy. This combination of specific geography and detail, with half glimpsed historical figures characterises the work. The second, longer cycle, revolves around an unusual version of the life of Thomas Chatterton, who becomes a focal point for the telling of the city’s cosmic history.
Like the river Fleet, which plays a significant role in holding together the parts of the poem, the content floods and fades, meanders, eddies and flows. The poem risks obscurity, as any private vision must:
But the Perpetual Arch-Master of the Red Cross of Memphis
with counterweights of terrible prayers and vigils
Slows down the wheels and retrogrades the Millennium. (p.87)
However, the reader is carried along by the incantatory quality of the verse and Dun’s ability to create memorable images. The Morning Star ‘fell with the slow crash of galaxies colliding (p.54).’ The Roman army advanced into Boadicea’s forces:
The tight unit of his tortoise-formation
advances like a slow ship through a sea of gore
like a death-machine that sails by methodic stars. (p.61)
There are almost forty pages of notes. These are an integral part of the total work that is Vale Royal and their operation is fascinating.
Some of the notes explain an obscure reference and some are enjoyably mischievous like the following with its carefully placed ‘it more is probable’:
Although Folk tradition would like Boadicea to be buried under platform 10 at King’s Cross Station, or even under the tumulus on the eastern side of Hampstead Heath, it is more probable that she lies in St. Pancras Churchyard. (p.119)
Throughout the poem there are references to ‘the city above the city’. The notes create a second poem above and to one side of the words on the page. You can read the poem without the notes:
Look, an old man is wandering at night
beside a river, through ruins of Troynovant.
See, there is a child the old man tries to destroy. (p.13)
However, the relevant note, which runs for twenty lines, identifies the old man as the Reverend Doctor William Stukeley, and then narrates part of his career drifting away from the text, opening new possibilities of interpretation that might not be obvious from the words on the page. In another, Chatterton is likened to Thomas the Apostle and a story about the latter’s fabled activity in India runs for almost two pages. Just as no one can map the limits of a connotation, the possible chain of allusions has no finite end. The notes allow Dun to position his text within a wealth of possible intertextuality without overloading the verse.
Dun claims: ‘After seven or eight years of study and research, a first draft was written in 1981 (p.96).’
Even for such obscure knowledge, Dun’s version is idiosyncratic. Willows occur repeatedly, and lead in the notes to Robert Graves and his treatment of ‘Cad Goddau’. But arguing that Graves was wrong would be irrelevant. Pointing out that there never was a Troynovant for Stukeley to find would also miss the point. The legendary history was never homogenous and there never was an ‘authorised version’. As Dun writes: ‘Nothing here is real without belief (p.13)’ and his seamless integration of his material produces a coherent, haunting vision of the city’s past.
This is most obvious in his version of Thomas Chatterton.
Current knowledge of 15th century English makes Chatterton’s forgeries seem far less convincing than they did to his contemporaries. But in Vale Royal, Chatterton is not a young man on the make, but an incarnation of ‘the Sunchild, the Mighty Youth, born with a vision and dying an early death (p.97)’ who writes about a previous incarnation in the language of that time. He comes to London and is involved in a shadowy conflict of cosmic significance. His enemies are the keepers of esoteric law, the Masons, and his death the result of their machinations. It’s a long way from the grubby realities of London journalism in 1770.
This is the second edition of Vale Royal. The first was published in 1990 and its launch at the Albert Hall involved Alan Ginsberg and Paul McCartney. The new edition carries praise from a range of luminaries including Jo Balmer, Derek Walcott, Michael Moorcock, and Ian Sinclair.
Such packaging can be off-putting and the possibility of disappointment becomes very real. But whether you care about Kings Cross (London) or know the difference between a psychogeographical and psychoarchaeological investigation (Introduction p.8) this is a magnificent piece of writing. It might be the only modern long poem to take the idea of the legendary history and make a credibly new version. It is also enjoyable, entertaining, disturbing and as a bonus, comes with a link to a recording of Dunn reading the whole poem.
The legendary history of Britain is an accumulation of facts, wishful thinking, and poetic hallucinations tracing the founding of Britain back to Brutus, great-grandson of that Aeneas who fled both Troy and Dido to found Rome. Exiled for patricide, Brutus found his way to Britain where he set up his New Troy, Troynovant, on the banks of the Thames. Later, a descendant, Llud, who had trouble with dragons, changed the city’s name to Kaer Lud, and by a series of improbable linguistic changes the city became London.
First given coherent written form by Geoffrey of Monmouth at the beginning of the 12th century, the story ended with the consolidation of Anglo-Saxon rule.
In Vale Royal, Aidan Andrew Dun extends the legendary history into the 18th century, creating a new, compelling story for the city of London and for Kings Cross in particular.
Written in three line verses the author calls triads, Vale Royal is divided into four sections. A brief section at the start serves as introduction and invitation to enter the poem’s ‘forest of intricate hallucinations’ and then two numbered Cycles are followed by a section of Notes.
‘Cycle One’ begins in the specific geography of King’s Cross but slides into the 18th century, where William Blake is a small boy. This combination of specific geography and detail, with half glimpsed historical figures characterises the work. The second, longer cycle, revolves around an unusual version of the life of Thomas Chatterton, who becomes a focal point for the telling of the city’s cosmic history.
Like the river Fleet, which plays a significant role in holding together the parts of the poem, the content floods and fades, meanders, eddies and flows. The poem risks obscurity, as any private vision must:
But the Perpetual Arch-Master of the Red Cross of Memphis
with counterweights of terrible prayers and vigils
Slows down the wheels and retrogrades the Millennium. (p.87)
However, the reader is carried along by the incantatory quality of the verse and Dun’s ability to create memorable images. The Morning Star ‘fell with the slow crash of galaxies colliding (p.54).’ The Roman army advanced into Boadicea’s forces:
The tight unit of his tortoise-formation
advances like a slow ship through a sea of gore
like a death-machine that sails by methodic stars. (p.61)
There are almost forty pages of notes. These are an integral part of the total work that is Vale Royal and their operation is fascinating.
Some of the notes explain an obscure reference and some are enjoyably mischievous like the following with its carefully placed ‘it more is probable’:
Although Folk tradition would like Boadicea to be buried under platform 10 at King’s Cross Station, or even under the tumulus on the eastern side of Hampstead Heath, it is more probable that she lies in St. Pancras Churchyard. (p.119)
Throughout the poem there are references to ‘the city above the city’. The notes create a second poem above and to one side of the words on the page. You can read the poem without the notes:
Look, an old man is wandering at night
beside a river, through ruins of Troynovant.
See, there is a child the old man tries to destroy. (p.13)
However, the relevant note, which runs for twenty lines, identifies the old man as the Reverend Doctor William Stukeley, and then narrates part of his career drifting away from the text, opening new possibilities of interpretation that might not be obvious from the words on the page. In another, Chatterton is likened to Thomas the Apostle and a story about the latter’s fabled activity in India runs for almost two pages. Just as no one can map the limits of a connotation, the possible chain of allusions has no finite end. The notes allow Dun to position his text within a wealth of possible intertextuality without overloading the verse.
Dun claims: ‘After seven or eight years of study and research, a first draft was written in 1981 (p.96).’
Even for such obscure knowledge, Dun’s version is idiosyncratic. Willows occur repeatedly, and lead in the notes to Robert Graves and his treatment of ‘Cad Goddau’. But arguing that Graves was wrong would be irrelevant. Pointing out that there never was a Troynovant for Stukeley to find would also miss the point. The legendary history was never homogenous and there never was an ‘authorised version’. As Dun writes: ‘Nothing here is real without belief (p.13)’ and his seamless integration of his material produces a coherent, haunting vision of the city’s past.
This is most obvious in his version of Thomas Chatterton.
Current knowledge of 15th century English makes Chatterton’s forgeries seem far less convincing than they did to his contemporaries. But in Vale Royal, Chatterton is not a young man on the make, but an incarnation of ‘the Sunchild, the Mighty Youth, born with a vision and dying an early death (p.97)’ who writes about a previous incarnation in the language of that time. He comes to London and is involved in a shadowy conflict of cosmic significance. His enemies are the keepers of esoteric law, the Masons, and his death the result of their machinations. It’s a long way from the grubby realities of London journalism in 1770.
This is the second edition of Vale Royal. The first was published in 1990 and its launch at the Albert Hall involved Alan Ginsberg and Paul McCartney. The new edition carries praise from a range of luminaries including Jo Balmer, Derek Walcott, Michael Moorcock, and Ian Sinclair.
Such packaging can be off-putting and the possibility of disappointment becomes very real. But whether you care about Kings Cross (London) or know the difference between a psychogeographical and psychoarchaeological investigation (Introduction p.8) this is a magnificent piece of writing. It might be the only modern long poem to take the idea of the legendary history and make a credibly new version. It is also enjoyable, entertaining, disturbing and as a bonus, comes with a link to a recording of Dunn reading the whole poem.
Displaying 1 of 1 review