2004 Paper 2 - Section 3

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you and thank you for coming here today. It's heartening to know that in a world of deadlines and demanding schedules, people can still find time for poetry. The poet I'll be discussing today is Derek Mahon. Mahon hails from a protestant, unionist background in Belfast, but has spent much of his life living in the Republic. It has been said that the raw materials for his work are 'the unresolved tensions and ironies of harsh, intolerant Belfast'. The landscape of his childhood is very evident in his work with its images of shipyards, the Antrim hills, dank churches and bog meadows. Indeed, place is a recurring feature of his poetry and the relationship between place and history is a very interesting one. In 'Rathlin', one senses that place and past are inseparable. The island of Rathlin was the site of a terrible atrocity in the sixteenth century. You may have heard of Somhairle Bui, the chieftain whose family and some 600 supporters were massacred on that island off the Antrim coast. The poem acknowledges that it is 'A long time since the last scream cut short'. Yet things which happened a long time ago should not be forgotten or overlooked, and the 'unnatural silence' seems to haunt the waves as the visitors make their way to the island, now a nature reserve. The word 'sanctuary' reminds us that this place is a bird sanctuary today, but four hundred years ago it failed as a sanctuary for the victims of the massacre. It is said that their screams could be heard from the mainland, carried by the wind. There is the sad acknowledgement that violence is still a part of its history as 'Bombs doze in the housing estates'. I'd like you to pause a moment and contemplate Mahon's statement on history in this poem. He refers to it as 'a lone light which repeats/One simple statement to the turbulent sea.' Bear this metaphor in mind if you find yourself reading Mahon's poetry for the first time. History is a recurring theme in his work and it is portrayed as a violent and bloody experience. The relationship between past and present is never a comfortable one in his work, and the relationship between past and future is wrought with uncertainty. This can be seen in the closure of 'Rathlin' where the visitors are Unsure among the pitching surfaces Whether the future lies before us or behind. His poem 'Kinsale' addresses past and present. Kinsale was the site of an English victory over the Irish chieftains and marked the defeat of Irish rule in Ireland. Yet despite the echoes of a 'deep-delving, dark, deliberate' past, the present is peaceful and the future is rich in possibility: 'We contemplate at last shining windows, a future forbidden to no one.' How many of you have looked to the future and envisioned 'shining windows'? I hope I'm inspiring some of you to dip into Mahon's work, but if you read nothing else by this poet I urge you to read 'A Disused Shed in County Wexford'. This poem has been described as 'a metaphor of all the persecuted and forgotten peoples in human history'. While it deals with the past and its legacy, it is a powerful reminder of our own casual indifference to the suffering of others. If you enjoy poetry which evokes atmosphere then you must dwell on the first stanza as it is incredibly atmospheric. The poem begins with places 'where a thought might grow'. These places are abandoned, and time here is 'a slow clock of condensation'. The sounds in these forgotten places generate tension — 'An echo trapped for ever … a door bangs with diminished confidence'. The poem takes us from Peruvian mines to the disused shed of the title. In this shed 'A thousand mushrooms crowd to a keyhole'. I want you to consider these mushrooms as a metaphor for all the forgotten victims of war, violence and atrocities in history. The relationship between these mushrooms and the world outside is worth noting. The world is 'waltzing in its bowl of cloud'. Stop for a moment. We are a wealthy country. To what extent are we waltzing in our own bowl of cloud while people die needless deaths in Africa? Are we waltzing in our bowl of cloud when economic migrants suffocate in containers before they reach our shores in search of a better life? Mahon does not believe that poetry should be socially relevant, but few readers will fail to be struck by the direct relevance of his work to the world we live in. To appreciate this poem is to recognise our responsibility as world citizens. The mushrooms have learned 'patience and silence'. Isn't this a tragedy? The verbs associated with the mushrooms and the shed are very telling: 'listening … waiting … rusting … dusted … groaning'. These are not verbs of action; these are verbs of passivity and stagnation. The world takes little interest in their plight; an 'expropriated mycologist' never comes back, a lorry changes gear at the end of their lane and moves on. Mahon's depiction of their suffering is intensely moving. The personification of the mushrooms as they move towards the keyhole pleading 'Elbow room! Elbow room!' emphasises the human dimension and reminds us that this is a poem about human suffering and human indifference. Echoes of the gas chambers and the holocaust can be felt in the image of people crowded together, groaning for 'deliverance'. Nobody delivered the dead victims of holocaust, genocide and ethnic cleansing. Yes, history has been a nightmare. Again and again in this poem Mahon evokes great sympathy for history's victims. 'They lift frail heads in gravity and good faith?' How many of us have seen such images on our TV screens, and changed channels? Aren't we all guilty of waltzing in our own bowl of cloud, which may be our indifference, our inaction, our failure to 'do something, to speak on their behalf/Or at least not to close the door again.' It is difficult to find the 'shining windows, a future forbidden to no one' in this poem, but perhaps this poem tells us that the onus is on us; we have the power and responsibility to make it happen. As you can see, places and history are Mahon's concerns. However, unique individuals also populate his poems. Some are solitary, forgotten figures and some are symbols of an extremist, fanatical mindset. One figure who emerges strongly from today's selection is the 'God-fearing, God-chosen purist little puritan' from 'Ecclesiastes'. A certain kind of preacher is portrayed in this poem, and he is the type of fanatic that exists in every religion. This is the fanatic who loves the suppressive side of religion, particularly the suppression of enjoyment and pleasure. This preacher loves the 'dank churches, the empty streets,/the shipyard silence, the tied-up swings'. This is the landscape of extremist protestant Belfast where all work stopped and the children's playgrounds had to be closed on Sunday. This type of fanatic is a dictator who shelters his 'cold heart from the heat/of the world, from woman-inquisition, from the/bright eyes of children'. The imagery here is harsh; it is an attack on a harsh man with a harsh outlook. Mahon conveys a man who distrusts the warmth and brightness of humanity. He considers himself a holy man yet he overlooks the most positive and human aspect of Christianity, as he does not 'feel called upon to understand and forgive'. This is the man who prefers a god of retribution to a god of love. It is also clear that this man represents a dying, patriarchal tradition — 'the heaped/graves of your fathers'. This man enjoys his power and his messiah-like status: 'Your people await you, their heavy washing/flaps for you in the housing estates — /a credulous people.' In attacking these people, Mahon is attacking aspects of his own society, his own people. In its attack on the extremist protestant communities, and on their 'fierce zeal', I believe this poem could only have been written by an insider. We in the south may feel far removed from this mindset, but geographically we are very close. The mindset of the fanatic is also explored in 'As It Should Be'. We see the perspective of those who view violence as a solution to society's problems. The problem in this case is a 'mad bastard' who is silenced by death. The speaker does not consider himself an extremist. He easily justifies his actions with the end result: 'The air blows softer since his departure.' The end justifies the means for this kind of person, and as readers we can see the danger of such an outlook. Couldn't we justify anything if it meant that 'Our children have known no bad dreams'? However, the fundamentalist who sees violence as a solution is not capable of engaging in dialogue or debate. The answer is an authoritative verbatim and allows no discussion: 'This is as it should be.' A high price must be paid for a 'world with method in it' and if this price includes human life, then so be it. In contrast, a gentle voice emerges in 'The Chinese Restaurant in Portrush'. The setting is 'Gentle and almost hospitable', and a peaceful atmosphere is established as a girl 'strides past … Light-footed, swinging a book-bag … And an old wolfhound dozes in the sun.' Despite its history of invasion, Northern Ireland can be a glorious place where 'the light/Of heaven upon the hills of Donegal' can be seen. But like the Chinese proprietor who dreams of home, there is a sense that the poet is only dreaming of a longed-for ideal. As this talk draws to a close, I'm afraid I've only touched on aspects of Mahon's work. I urge you to read the poems I've mentioned today and consider the themes I've referred to in my talk. Remember: his poems have a lot to say about the relationship between past, present and future, between people and their traditions, between people and place. His poetry is also enjoyable for its sympathetic and memorable portrayal of individuals. Once again, I'd like to thank you for attending this talk, and I'd like to thank our sponsors who made this event possible. Go raibh míle maith agaibh.