Monthly Archives: June 2018

Publishing And Diversity

On 9 June, the author, Lionel Shriver, published an article in The Spectator, https://www.spectator.co.uk/2018/06/when-diversity-means-uniformity/. To give a quote from that article which does, I think sum up Shriver’s argument:

“Second: dazzled by this very highest of social goods, many of our institutions have ceased to understand what they are for. Drunk on virtue, Penguin Random House no longer regards the company’s raison d’être as the acquisition and dissemination of good books. Rather, the organisation aims to mirror the percentages of minorities in the UK population with statistical precision. Thus from now until 2025, literary excellence will be secondary to ticking all those ethnicity, gender, disability, sexual preference and crap-education boxes. We can safely infer from that email that if an agent submits a manuscript written by a gay transgender Caribbean who dropped out of school at seven and powers around town on a mobility scooter, it will be published, whether or not said manuscript is an incoherent, tedious, meandering and insensible pile of mixed-paper recycling”.

Shriver has received a good deal of criticism. However, as a disabled (blind) poet I have some sympathy with the argument she makes (although I wouldn’t have expressed my views as Shriver does).

I wish to be judged on the merits of my poetry and not given preferencial treatment due to the fact that I am registered as being disabled. Having said that, I welcome initiatives to encourage the participation of under represented groups in the literary scene (provided that such initiatives are not prescriptive and do not entail the employment of quotas).

Amid the overreaction to Shriver’s article, one of the more balanced responses (with which I have considerable sympathy) can be found here, https://emmalee1.wordpress.com/2018/06/20/publishing-and-diversity/.

Kevin

There Once Was A God Named Pan

There once was a god named Pan
Who married a girl named Ann.
They made music together
Whatever the weather
With the aid of a frying pan!

There once was a god named Pan
Who loved a girl called Ann.
He offered her his heart
But being in love with art
She married his best friend Dan!

The Oldest Game In Town

Tis the oldest game in town,
Save for agriculture
Perhaps. Or did moralists frown
When the hunter gatherers played
With the vulture?
And who then preyed?
And what is prey
Anyway?

Tis the same
Old game
Today. Vultures with vultures dance.
The word said
Is “Bed”
But romance
Is dead.

The soiled rose
With too short clothes
Will prey
On those
Who pay
To play
With prey.
But for a moment stay,
Just who created the prey?

On Hearing Of The Death Of A Former Colleague

The business of work stopped
When the sickle chopped
For you
Who
Knew
When
To wield a pen.
But you
Could laugh too.

How silent is the office now
That your paperwork is done.
The serious and the fun
All must
Blend
In the end
In dust,
And in the memories of we who live on
After you are gone.