I've been gathering tree poems for years, and my dream of creating a tree poetry anthology is finally reaching fruition. Into the Forest will be published by Saraband in November (just in time for Christmas!) and it is going to be a thing of beauty. The cover and internal images are gorgeous, the design of the book is lovely, and of course the poems themselves are a forest of wonder.
There are more than 150 poets featured, ranging from nobel laureates like Seamus Heaney and Gabriella Mistral, to people you will never have heard of because they haven't been in print before. The anthology is structured into chapters following the species of the Gaelic tree alphabet but the selection of poems is ecologically liberal, including many close relatives of our native species living all over the world - from California to China, Norway to Norfolk.
I won't begin to try to explain how much more work is involved in the editing of such a collection than I expected. I'm just pleased that it has come together and been so creatively produced by Saraband.
The book is in aid of Trees for Life, and I'm giving my royalties to them to support regeneration of native woodlands in Scotland.
Into the Forest is dedicated to Gavin Wallace, whose tragic death earlier this year saddened everyone who knew him. I guess there must be hundreds of others just as grateful as I was for the recognition he gave to our efforts and for the practical help he gave with Arts Council grants to individuals and to organisations. He was so modest about it all - a delightful man. I met him in the flesh first at the Ullapool Book Festival, after I'd received a Scottish Arts Council writer's bursary, and when I thanked him he gave a little smile and said something brief and nice and then turned the subject to the blossoms dressing the trees all the way up Market Street in the way they always do in Ullapool in May. I am sure he would have loved this book.
Friday, 18 October 2013
Thursday, 3 October 2013
A watery poem for National Poetry Day
Today's National Poetry Day so to celebrate that, here's a poem on the theme of the day, water. It's from my collection Castings, now out of print. I found this traditional Cree story and loved it so much I wanted to see if it worked in the environment I am familiar with. In the Cree version I found, it is told by a man who is watching, with a wishing bone, hidden in some bushes. I've translocated it to the Highlands and retold it from the woman's point of view.
Wishing Bone Poem
(from
a Cree story told by Jacob Nibeneganesabe)
This is my
story.
I am
married to this peaty pool.
He washes
me
quenches
my thirst
is fond of
amphibians and ferns
sparkles
in breezes.
I show him
my love
swimming
in him
gently.
Earlier
this summer
the
arsonist sun
scorched
him away.
I lay in
the dry hollow
waiting
for rain.
Storms
came
but their
waters drained away.
I wept in
the dry hollow.
Salt tears
crusted my face.
I went
looking for my husband-pool
trawled
the glens and mires
calling.
I found
him in a dark rocky hole.
He bathed
my eyes clear.
Ever since
I have been bringing him home
little by
little
cupped in
my hands.
Monday, 30 September 2013
Rock Writing at Knockan Crag
On Saturday 5th October, as part of the Assynt Festival, and the Year of Natural Scotland 2013, I'll be doing a rock writing event. A what? An exploration of rocks and how they've shaped our landscape, from a literary point of view - part writing workshop and part performance.
The plan for the day is to start with a 'Rock Book'. This will be a collection of some of the wonderful words about our landscape that have already been laid down, for example in Norman MacCaig's poetry, by geologists, and by local writers, as the raw material to inspire new rock writing.
From 1pm, we will use the Rock Book as inspiration, to be crushed and reformed, eroded and replaced by newly sedimented words, with intrusions of other existing writing brought along by participants squeezed among the strata, exploring all the geological metaphors we can in the time!
The result will be a metamorphosed set of rock writing strata, which will be performed on Knockan Crag at 3.30pm.
In between there'll be light refreshments, and there'll be a marquee in case the weather is typical for an Assynt October day, but you'd be best bringing clothing suitable for outdoors.
Come! It's going to be a unique Geopoetic event!
Saturday 5 October, Knockan Crag
1300: Poetry & Story Writing Workshop – using words about our landscape as raw materials to inspire new rock writing.
1500: Light Refreshments
1530–1630: Reading the new rock writing and perhaps some old ones too!
Everyone welcome to come along and take part by writing, reading or just listening.
More information on www.assyntfestival.org.uk
The plan for the day is to start with a 'Rock Book'. This will be a collection of some of the wonderful words about our landscape that have already been laid down, for example in Norman MacCaig's poetry, by geologists, and by local writers, as the raw material to inspire new rock writing.
From 1pm, we will use the Rock Book as inspiration, to be crushed and reformed, eroded and replaced by newly sedimented words, with intrusions of other existing writing brought along by participants squeezed among the strata, exploring all the geological metaphors we can in the time!
The result will be a metamorphosed set of rock writing strata, which will be performed on Knockan Crag at 3.30pm.
In between there'll be light refreshments, and there'll be a marquee in case the weather is typical for an Assynt October day, but you'd be best bringing clothing suitable for outdoors.
Come! It's going to be a unique Geopoetic event!
Saturday 5 October, Knockan Crag
1300: Poetry & Story Writing Workshop – using words about our landscape as raw materials to inspire new rock writing.
1500: Light Refreshments
1530–1630: Reading the new rock writing and perhaps some old ones too!
Everyone welcome to come along and take part by writing, reading or just listening.
More information on www.assyntfestival.org.uk
Saturday, 28 September 2013
Rowan for Scotland's National Tree
Until 3 December 2013, the Forestry Commission is running a consultation about whether Scotland should have a national tree, and if so, what it should be. I was very flattered to be asked to be the 'champion' of the rowan tree when the consultation was launched at the Edinburgh Botanical Gardens earlier this month. Someone there must have noticed how much I love this beautiful species!
There are many myths and stories involving rowan trees. My favourite is a Greek myth. It tells of the top god Zeus, who discovered that his sacred nectar cup had been stolen by demons and sent eagles in pursuit. Although they rescued the magic cup, they were fatally injured in the process. As they fell to earth, Zeus turned their feathers into the pinnate leaves of rowan trees, their bones into wood and their blood into bright red berries. (These berries make a ruby-red jelly that rivals marmalade on toast for breakfast - the recipe is in the Handbook of Scottish Wild Harvests - and now is jelly time!)
In the Celtic tradition, rowan is the symbol of Brigid, goddess of poetry, music and the arts. It therefore seems fitting to offer a wee poem for this bonniest of Scotland's trees.
passed over by all
storms
it forms
here in the open wilds
the perfection of a child's
painting of a tree
untested by tragedy.
In the anthology of tree poems I'm editing (Into the Forest, due out in November from Saraband) there are lots of gorgeous poems about rowans, including Hopkins' cracker Inversnaid, with its reference to the 'beadbonny ash', one of the tree's nicknames. Its leaves are ash-like, so it is often called the mountain ash, and the Vikings believed men were made from ash trees, and woman from rowans.
There is no more magical tree than rowan. Its flowers have the magic number of five petals and sepals, and its blood-red berries bear the mystical pentogram. Witches make their wands from rowan twigs. In rural areas throughout Scotland, you still see rowan trees planted close to houses, because of the belief they will keep evil spirits away. The cross-beams of chimneys are called ‘rantrees’ in Scots because they were often made of rowan wood, to stop ghosts and ghoulies coming down the chimney. Twigs over doors, in stables and byres, tied into the tails and manes of livestock or attached to masts and halyards on boats, are all supposed to bring health and good fortune.
So cast a spell with a rowan stick, and cast your vote for it to be Scotland's national tree!
There are many myths and stories involving rowan trees. My favourite is a Greek myth. It tells of the top god Zeus, who discovered that his sacred nectar cup had been stolen by demons and sent eagles in pursuit. Although they rescued the magic cup, they were fatally injured in the process. As they fell to earth, Zeus turned their feathers into the pinnate leaves of rowan trees, their bones into wood and their blood into bright red berries. (These berries make a ruby-red jelly that rivals marmalade on toast for breakfast - the recipe is in the Handbook of Scottish Wild Harvests - and now is jelly time!)
In the Celtic tradition, rowan is the symbol of Brigid, goddess of poetry, music and the arts. It therefore seems fitting to offer a wee poem for this bonniest of Scotland's trees.
Rowan
The rowan grows tallpassed over by all
storms
it forms
here in the open wilds
the perfection of a child's
painting of a tree
untested by tragedy.
In the anthology of tree poems I'm editing (Into the Forest, due out in November from Saraband) there are lots of gorgeous poems about rowans, including Hopkins' cracker Inversnaid, with its reference to the 'beadbonny ash', one of the tree's nicknames. Its leaves are ash-like, so it is often called the mountain ash, and the Vikings believed men were made from ash trees, and woman from rowans.
There is no more magical tree than rowan. Its flowers have the magic number of five petals and sepals, and its blood-red berries bear the mystical pentogram. Witches make their wands from rowan twigs. In rural areas throughout Scotland, you still see rowan trees planted close to houses, because of the belief they will keep evil spirits away. The cross-beams of chimneys are called ‘rantrees’ in Scots because they were often made of rowan wood, to stop ghosts and ghoulies coming down the chimney. Twigs over doors, in stables and byres, tied into the tails and manes of livestock or attached to masts and halyards on boats, are all supposed to bring health and good fortune.
So cast a spell with a rowan stick, and cast your vote for it to be Scotland's national tree!
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.
It
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.
It

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.
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).
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.
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