Top Girls – Caryl Churchill (Radio Four Extra, on iPlayer till the end of September)
The BBC have re-broadcast a World Service version of Churchill’s play to celebrate her 80thbirthday. Her classic study of the tensions inherent in feminism and liberation (especially individualist vs communitarian versions), ought to feel very dated. However, that opening scene in which the central character gets pissed with increasingly lairy feminist heroes of the past still hits the mark. As their behaviour increasingly mirrors those of the men they want liberation from, it exercises a real grip. Its comments on Thatcher, the end of society, and the status of women unable to ‘get to the top’ remains essential.
Jaws – Peter Benchley (Radio Four, on iPlayer till the end of September)
I am part of a generation still terrorised by Benchley’s (false) representations of the perils of the Deep. This edited audio book – which cleverly uses John Williams’ score for the film version as soundtrack – brings out nuances lost in Spielberg’s adaptation. It’s pulpy, scary and compelling.
PN Review (243)
Of the various poetry journals I subscribe to, PN Review is the one which challenges and extends me the most. In the latest edition, I’ve enjoyed new poems from the ever-witty Sophie Hannah, Ireland’s Vona Groake as well as Chris Beckett/Hiwot Tadesse’s translation of Bedilu Wakjira’s ‘Truth, my Child’. There are also four poems by the recently deceased Matthew Sweeney. Vahni Capildeo’s report continues to mesmerise.
Michael Symmons Roberts – Mancunia (Cape: 2017)
Roberts continues to develop as a poet. That’s saying something, given his previous work. After the extraordinary effort of his previous collection, Drysalter, I was anticipating disappointment. Rather, this collection – an exploration of utopia and the Manchesters of the mind and soul – displays Roberts’ ability to marshall all his formal gifts with even greater boldness.
Sarah Howe – Loop of Jade (Chatto: 2015)
I’m cautious around major prize-winning collections (this won the T.S. Eliot in 2015), but Howe’s debut collection is a tour de force. Her storytelling voice is sharp and bold and her formal skills are, at times, breath-taking. Her account of her dual heritage – Chinese and British – is scintillating.
The Little Stranger (OST) – Stephen Rennicks (2018)
Spectral and melancholic, Resnick’s soundtrack for the new adaptation of Sarah Waters’ 1940s ghost novel, is the kind of thing one expects to be played behind lots of shots of people wearing tweed, as they crunch across gravel and stare up at a louring country house.
It is perhaps a little unfair to read a film based on its soundtrack, but one imagines the accompanying film will look washed-out, autumnal and full-on Brit-heritage sumptuous. I can’t wait.
Jackie Oates – The Joy of Living (2018)
Oates’ new album took me rather by surprise. About half-way through my first listen, I found myself in tears. This was partly because of the sensitivity with which Oates handles the album’s folk material; it was also a reflection of her ability to speak of joys and pains of being alive with understated vulnerability. Highly commended.
Camel – Moonmadness Live at the Bridgewater Hall (Friday 7thSeptember)
Andy Latimer’s rejuvenated outfit continue to dazzle. The night displayed Latimer and co’s ability to handle difficult music with precision, skill and wit. The rapport between band and audience was marvellous.