What a pleasure it was to participate in the Wigtown Book Festival Southlight Launch which took place in the eyrie of the Nature Room, perched on the top floor of the County Buildings. It’s definitely the best Southlight Event I’ve been to yet, everything from the latecomers crashing in from the pub, through Angus’s assault on the bagpipes and including a range of newcomers and old hands. Sometimes I’ve struggled to hear at these events, something to do with my own auditory failings, no doubt, but also related to big airy venues with  difficult acoustics or amplification that has seemed more of a problem than a solution; but this time, all was well, and the quality of the readings came through. I dare say there is much bad poetry being written but what is remarkable is just how much good work there is being wrung out in obscure corners by writers who deserve to be heard. I am sure every part of the country has its work-shopped output of verse and writers who fall short, at least for now, of whatever mysterious ingredient it takes to achieve a national profile; but they can be a speciality of the region, as much as the local cheese or beer or bread or landscape or dialect or history. Robin Leiper for example, with his take on the Raeburn exhibition at Kirkcudbright Gallery in August just past, which, by the way, I enjoyed very much, but I do get it when he says;

 I recognise it 

all too well: that sense of smugness

settling like smog upon the spirit

the smirk, a seasoning of the sentimental.

The background photoshopped to black

obliterates the source of the cash.

And then there was  Lesley Buchan Donald’s poem, Chat’s Willie.  I can struggle with Scots writing but this seemed uncompromising yet accessible. 

Chat’s Wullie

Feet plantit he stauns as if still on deck

squintin intil the sun

Skin daurkent by years at the fishin

Cou’s lick o snaw white hair an Desperate Dan chin

Ane haund in his pooch

Weel worn weskit an knittit tie

Lang drawers keekin abuin the waistbaund o his breeks

Wearin his echty odd years lichtly

The accompanying photo of Chat’s Wullie was definitely a help to this listener, and a striking image in its own right.

Drunk Muse Press, with its publication of often neglected writers, deserves mention in this celebration of the local, but there are plenty of other gems in Southlight 36.  To order a copy, go to http://www.southlight.ukwriters.net/bookshop.html