Friday, 30 August 2013

In praise of Saraband

Saraband has won the Saltire Society's Publisher of the Year award (see here). I'm not remotely surprised. I have, over the past eight years, been published by four different publishers: the tiny poetry pamphlet and magazine publisher Essencepress, the tiny Hebridean-based literary outfit Two Ravens Press, the huge London-based subsidiary of multinational Random House, Virgin Books, and Saraband. Saraband has been in every way the best publisher of them all. They published Bear Witness, my second novel, earlier this year and this autumn will see the release of Into the Forest, an anthology of tree poems.

Saraband is based in Glasgow, so they're right at the heart of Scotland's book scene and much easier to reach than London, so that means I have experienced for the first time a publisher being both accessible and guiding me into where the buzz is. They have been a delight to work with: never remote, always enthusiastic, consulting me on all phases of the books' development and proactive about promotion. These are all good things, but there are three main aspects of Saraband's approach that really stand out.

First of all, they make the most beautiful books. That's why I first approached them with the idea for Into the Forest. Their design work is the best in the country - from gorgeous coffee-table books like Woodlanders and the Panda book, to the elegant and workable pocket guides to Scottish trees and Scottish wild harvests. They also do adventurous and unconventional, like The Cottage Garden Diaries, with its cloth cover and old-world style that so fits the story within. Like every writer, I long for my work to be made into really beautiful books, and Saraband does just that. The design and illustrations for the tree poetry anthology is in process just now, and it's looking gorgeous.

The design of Bear Witness also illustrated the second great thing about Saraband: as a publisher of books about nature, sustainability and eco-literature, they really walk the talk. In my day job I campaign for sustainability in the paper industry. Before I was taken on by Saraband, Sara Hunt had already read my book Paper Trails so she knew how I feel about this issue, and to my delight, she has always proactively worked to ensure that my books are made from the most sustainable paper available. This means 100% post-consumer waste paper, both inside and for the cover, and she has made sure it hasn't reduced the aesthetic quality of the books one bit. I have lost count of the people who have commented on how lovely the paper feels. But Saraband didn't stop here. The cover card that would have been offcut at the printer was used to create special bookmarks for the book, to make sure nothing was wasted - a nice marketing touch but also an indication of just how thoughtful the whole team is about their use of natural resources. So the books they produce are 'eco' to the very core, not just in the words they contain.

But most of all what I admire about Saraband, and the third thing I want to praise them from the rooftops for, is what lovely people they are. I feel that I fall into step so easily with everyone I meet who has a link with them. They're kind and good humoured, generous with time and altogether human. They put a lot of effort into praising people who are doing the right thing, and reaching out to co-operate with other people and organisations in Scotland's literary world. I know that many people, not only those of us lucky enough to be directly involved with them, will be delighted by the recognition they have received. Isn't it good to know that sometimes it really is the best team, with the nicest people, that wins?

The Saltire Award was given this year to honour the memory of Gavin Wallace, who did so much to help literature in Scotland. I feel sure he would have been pleased with Saraband's win, and I'm proud that Into the Forest will also be dedicated to his memory.






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Wednesday, 14 August 2013

Special birthday offer on Bear Witness for the next three days

It's my birthday on Saturday, and I want to share the presents around, so anyone who buys Bear Witness from my website will get a copy of The Last Bear for free. Why do this? I simply love it when people read my bear books and enjoy them - that's the best birthday present I can get.

I'm also spectacularly chuffed that A L Kennedy says Bear Witness is 'Moving, intelligent and quietly passionate,' and I hope you'll agree.

Get your free book here, and please spread the word. The offer will end when I've opened the post on Saturday 17 August.


Monday, 12 August 2013

Trees

I have returned to the croft after a month in the arctic in June and then a month as poet in residence at the Edinburgh Royal Botanic Garden: two huge privileges and amazing to do them back to back. I blogged pretty much every day of July at www.walkingwithpoets.wordpress.com so it has been good to take a breath since I got back, and just be here in the wild wood. Each day there's another marvel to discover, or rediscover. It's that time of year when you get aromatherapy for free all day, every day - the soft sea breeze is dense with honeysuckle and heather blossom fragrances, and trees talk in their native tongue.

I've also returned to Hesse, as I do, from time to time, as to an old friend. Here he is on trees (from Wandering).

'So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts. Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.'
Wishing you all childish thoughts, and happiness.

Friday, 7 June 2013

Come for poetree in the Edinburgh botanics in July

In July I'll be poet in residence in the Royal Botanical Gardens in Edinburgh, and the programme for the month is now agreed. For 18 days we will have a tree of the day, following the Gaelic Tree Alphabet, with an event in the afternoon or evening to celebrate the link between trees and poetry.

Here's the plan (all dates are July).
  • Birch - Beginning ceremony,  Saturday  6 July, 3pm - 3.15pm, Real Life Science Studio
  • Rowan - Taste of nature walk, Sunday 7, 3.30pm - 4.30pm, Meet at Real Life Science Studio, Gateway
  • Alder  - Outdoor poetry reading, Monday 8, 2pm - 4pm, look for signs on arrival. Bring a rug to sit on.
  • Willow - Weaving with words, Wednesday 10, 2pm - 4pm, John Hope Gateway
  • Ash - Tree folklore talk and poetry reading,  Thursday 11, 7pm - 8.30pm, John Hope Gateway - access only via West Gate on Arboretum Place from 6.45pm
  • Hawthorn  - Rustle of leaves - a listening walk, Friday 12, 3.30pm - 4.30pm, Meet at John Hope Gateway
  • Oak - Tree folklore and word play, Saturday 13, 2pm - 4pm, Oak Lawn - look for signs on arrival or a poet tying yellow ribbon round an old oak tree...
  • Holly - Tree folklore and word play, Sunday 14, 2pm - 4pm, Oak Lawn - look for signs on arrival
  • Hazel - Tree wisdom poetry workshop, Monday 15, 2pm - 4pm, Patrick Geddes Room, Gateway
  • Bramble - Poetry buzz readings, Saturday 20, 2pm - 4pm, Around the Garden
  • Ivy - Free tree hugging lessons, Sunday 21, 2pm, 3pm, 4pm, Look for signs on arrival
  • Blackthorn - Ouch! That prickles! A touchy-feely walk exploring textures around the garden, Monday 22, 3.30pm - 4.30pm, Meet at John Hope Gateway
  • Elder - Workshop on growing new poems from cuttings, Tuesday 23, 2pm - 4pm, Patrick Geddes Room, Gateway
  • Pine - Pines and poems from all around the world, Wednesday 24, 3.30pm - 4.30pm, Meet at John Hope Gateway
  • Gorse - Gorse wine, Sloe gin, Heather ale and other drinking poems, Thursday 25, 7pm - 8.30pm, John Hope Gateway - access only via West Gate on Arboretum Place from 6.45pm
  • Heather - If you're the size of a bee, heather's a big tree, kids event, Friday 26, 2pm - 4pm, John Hope Gateway
  • Aspen - Renga: collaborative poetry writing, Saturday 27, 1pm - 5pm, Chinese Pavilion
  • Yew - Gaelic Tree Alphabet ceremony, Sunday 28,  3.30pm - 4.30pm, Meet at John Hope Gateway
All welcome to come and join in! Hope to see some of you there. To find out more about the project, please contact Frances Hendron at the Scottish Poetry Library or Amy McDonald at the Botanics, or see the Walking with Poets blog.

Sunday, 26 May 2013

Losing the language


I'm reading Sara Maitland's Gossip from the Forest. On page 106, she notes the following changes in the 2008 new edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary. 

New words: database, export, curriculum, vandalism, negotiate, committee, compulsory, bullet point, voicemail, citizenship, dyslexic and celebrity.

Words removed: catkin, brook, acorn, buttercup, blackberry, conker, holly, ivy, mistletoe.

My reaction is visceral and furious. Who could possibly take 'acorn' out of a children's dictionary? Are conkers really no longer part of the necessary vocabulary of every British child? How will future generations get through the winters without the words for holly, ivy and mistletoe?

Saturday, 25 May 2013

By leaves we live


During July I will be poet in residence in the Edinburgh Botanical Gardens as part of the Walking with Poets project. I'll be blogging regularly while I'm there, and the first taste of that is now on the project page, here: https://walkingwithpoets.wordpress.com/

Thursday, 2 May 2013

Beltane

We had our Beltane fire a day late. The night itself, 30 April, was poor weather, I was out for most of the evening and had work to do the next morning, so we delayed. Call me a fair-weather pagan, but everything conspired to make last night feel right. As we finished eating, an otter came by, dipping and cruising along the bladderwrack fringe of the shore. Two bats performed invisible calligraphy on the sky, spelling out a mystery. It was a calm, clear evening.

The recent northerly wind had cleared all the seaweed off the rock where we always have fires and the circle of stones always manages to withstand the spring tides. We took a bottle of wine down there and set to.

The makings of a fire are inauspicious: a scrumple of waste paper and a heap of scrap, bits of broken pallets that have spent a few years as steps or fencing until they're too rotten for that, old planks and offcuts and a few chunks of driftwood. I made a tower of little bits and set it alight, then as the flames started licking I laid some bigger sticks into a spider shape and let it weave its web of mesmerism.

All the scraps unify into a single thing - the fire is singular. The pieces of wood line up, like a narrative adventure, one by one, building to a blazing climax. The wood that seemed to be rubbish comes back to life. Flames seem to remember the movement of leaves, the shimmying dance of wind through a woodland canopy, and all of the colours and warmth of sunshine.

A fire is magic. I know nothing so completely absorbing. I can't remember what we thought or said while the fire burnt.

Eventually, after the last pieces of wood found their place and burned, the last flame flickered out, and the fire-web released us to go to sleep. The embers (plural again now) glowed on through the night, cooling.

This morning we woke to the first cuckoo. Its two-tone song seemed to follow the fire, as two follows one. Suddenly everything has coupled up, and everywhere I look there are pairs of leaves opening, pairs of legs, lips and beaks. Soon we'll be awash with the froth of blossoms and clusters of berries and the world will be myriad and many and too numerous to count, until the autumn.

Then, with another fire, we'll welcome the big zero of winter, out of which this miraculous May has sprung.