BANK VERSE

Continuing the theme of puffing pet authors, I've been reminded recently - listening to the fervid debates about workers in the financial sector and their considerable rewards - of a gloriously silly Mervyn Peake poem about same.

THE MEN IN BOWLER HATS ARE SWEET

The men in bowler hats are sweet
And dance through April showers,
So innocent! Oh it's a treat
To watch their tiny little feet
Leap nimbly through the arduous wheat
Among the lambs and flowers.

Many and many is the time
When I have watched them play
A broker drenched in glimmering rime,
A banker, innocent of crime,
With lots of bears and bulls, in time
To share the holiday.

The grass is lush - the moss is plush
The trees are hands at prayer.
The banker and the broker flush
To see a white rose in a bush,
And gasp with joy, and with a blush,
They hug each bull and bear.

The men in bowler hats are sweet
Beneath their bowler hats.
It's not their fault, if in the heat
Of their transactions, I repeat
It's not their fault if vampires meet
And gurgle in their spats.

This is from the at least partially mis-titled A Book of Nonsense.

David

PEAKE ACTIVITY

As an admirer of Mervyn Peake since I first became a keen reader, I am delighted that his centennial birth year is being marked by a number of exciting publishing projects. The very useful page run by Sebastian Peake - one of the sons of the author - is a good place to view these books, as well as offering news of exhibitions and related events and products.

The most fascinating for me is the fourth Gormenghast book, which was begun by Peake during his terminal illness and then completed by his late wife. Recently rediscovered, it is being published as Titus Awakes. I've read the trilogy numerous times, and enjoyed the BBC adaptation (while remaining mystified that no-one has been inspired to make a feature film from the books) and will count the days until July comes and I can see in what directions - literally and metaphysically - this unusual collaboration took the character of Titus Groan.

Peake was a remarkable figure, creating work not only in many different literary genres (poetry, prose, children's books, plays) but also being a superb illustrator and accomplished artist. If I had to choose one piece to illustrate his unique approach and talents, it would be the remarkable, long narrative World War II poem The Rhyme of the Flying Bomb. I hope this commemoration and associated activity bring him to the attention of many more people.


David

MYLES OF FUN

The verbal pun is often held in low esteem by those who aspire to be thought of as intellectual, or possessing advanced sensibilities, but notable writers have been irresistibly drawn towards this form, and have celebrated it in and through their work. The inner child in Mervyn Peake, for example, was delighted by the simple:

Mary Rose sat on a pin, Mary rose.

and he also created a book comprising visual depictions of well-known phrases, which relied on visual puns, called Figures of Speech.

I've been reading The Best of Myles, the selected journalism of Flann O'Brien, who was such a supreme champion and exponent of puns that he often constructed them in two or three languages at once. O'Brien's column in The Irish Times, penned under the name of Myles na gCopaleen, took on a number of forms, each of which demonstrated his facility with and love for language, and in particular what could happen when registers, vocabularies and styles from different worlds were combined (this approach was given further and brilliant rein in his novels, especially At Swim Two Birds). There is an incredible series of articles, for example, lamenting the decline of knowledge about steam technology among railwaymen, and another in which the writer is the unwilling victim of a man who unleashes a series of incredible, rambling stories about 'the brother', a practically superhuman individual who can single-handedly resolve any problem or nullify any perceived danger to himself and his household.

In probably the best-known series of articles, O'Brien takes the characters of Keats and Chapman (of 'Chapman's Homer' fame) and places them in various absurd scenarios, simply in order to deliver an excruciating pun at the end of an unfeasible story. Here's an example:

Keats was presented with an Irish terrier, which he humorously named Byrne. One day the beast strayed from the house and failed to return at night. Everyone was distressed, save Keats himself. He reached reflectively for his violin, a fairly passable timber of the Stradivarius feciture, and was soon at work with chin and jaw.

Chapman, looking in for an after-supper pipe, was astonished at the poet's composure, and did not hesitate to say so. Keats smiled (in a way that was rather lovely).

"And why should I not fiddle," he asked, "while Byrne roams?"

I love the use of the word 'feciture'. There are many more.

David