Special Event - Brian Turner, Tuesday 25th March, Michaelhouse
CB1 Poetry is pleased to announce a special additional reading on Tuesday 25th March at 8pm at the Michaelhouse. This is the day after Easter Monday and five days after the fifth anniversary of the invasion of Iraq.
We have been lucky enough to secure a reading by the American poet Brian Turner, who is on a limited tour of the UK, this will be his only reading in East Anglia
American poet, Brian Turner’s poetry collection, Here, Bullet has recently been published in this country by Bloodaxe Press. Brian was a soldier for several years and spent a year as a Team leader with an infantry unit in Iraq. His collection is unique in its exploration of what life in the middle of such a conflict is like for both the ordinary soldier and civilians.
This collection has won several prestigious awards in the States and Sarah Crown when reviewing the collection in The Guardian
"Turner proves himself an ideal chronicler, eloquent and detached. Above all, he affords dignity to the participants through acknowledgment of their individuality, giving names, recognising relationships, delineating histories. The power of this collection extends far beyond its harrowing subject-matter."
The New York Times Book Review said
"The day of the first moonwalk, my father's college literature professor told his class, ‘Someday they'll send a poet, and we'll find out what it's really like.’ Turner has sent back a dispatch from a place arguably more incomprehensible than the moon—the war in Iraq—and deserves our thanks..."
A Soldier’s Arabic
This is a strange new kind of war where you learn
just as much as you are able to believe.
The word for love, Habib, is written from right
to left, starting where we would end it
and ending where we might begin.
Where we would end a war
another might take as a beginning,
or as an echo of history, recited again.
Speak the word for death, Maut,
and you will hear the cursives of the wind
driven into the veil of the unknown.
This is a language made of blood.
It is made of sand, and time.
To be spoken, it must be earned.