I’ve
just completed reading ‘Black Country’ a short poetry collection by Liz Berry.
It’s received a lot of notices and awards, including the Forward Prize for Best
First Collection 2014. I’m not surprised, as I’ve found it to be such a great
read. Considering Liz is only 33, the poems have a depth and maturity, and
equally a passion, that really draws you in and holds you close. As you may
have guessed from the title, many of the poems explore Liz’s relationship and
experiences of growing up in the former industrial Midlands region, in places
such as Sedgeley, Tipton and Dudley. Much of it is also written in the much
misunderstood Black Country dialect, but where many writers often have an air
of mocking about the flat, vowel twisting language of the region, Liz brings an
air of seriousness and gravity to it that I really appreciated. Indeed, it made
me think a lot about my own upbringing in the Black Country in these places where
the poems are set (my Dad is from Tipton, my grandparents lived in Sedgeley and
Coseley) and renewed an appreciation and respect in the uniqueness of the
dialect that I grew up with and spoke myself. It’s an accent that is very thick
and broad, and is hard to understand to the untuned ear. My wife still has
trouble understanding my Dad. It’s never going to be heard as ‘cool’ or
romantic either other regional voices or like the Scottish accent, which is
also very hard to understand at first from my experience of living in Edinburgh
for a few years. Yet, Berry’s poems do bring something of an air of almost
exotic romanticism that is a real surprise, as well as that important quality:
authenticity.
Poet Liz Berry
My
own former accent is a bit mangled up from my experience of living in different
parts of the country, including the North East, West Yorkshire and Scotland.
The Black Country still informs much of how I sound, although it is hard to
‘hear’ your own voice; it’s what I’m told, but it has softened. It has had
to in an attempt to make myself
understood to others. I remember in my first few days at University being asked
by a fellow student where I was from, and when I told them, a sarcastic reply
of ‘No kidding’ was returned. Feeling a sense of embarrassment and shame, which
is often how I think people from the Black Country are made to feel about their
accents, I quickly tried to change my own so it was less noticeable ( and more
understood). But it’s a warm and
friendly accent, rich in character and history, so it has been really enjoyable
to read ‘Black Country’, and how Liz Berry treats and explores the language of
the region with the respect it deserves in her poetry.
I
have really enjoyed reading these poems. They are a good companion to my recent
paintings, which are an attempt to get close to the Black Country again.
Donald Provan, 'Pillars' oil on board, 2004
As
a footnote to this post, I remember fondly times in the shared studio I had in
Edinburgh with my artist friend, Donald Provan, who spoke in an often barely
intelligible Fife accent. We used to share cups of tea in the afternoons and
chat away, but I was always aware that I don’t think he understood my accent,
and I didn’t understand his own, so we were never quite sure what we were
talking about to each other. We just used to nod at each other and say ‘Aye I
ken’ a lot until gradually, over time we slowly tuned into each other. Donald
is one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, and the great painting of Leith above is by
him.
A
good link to one of Liz’s poems is here:
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