I was bird watching at Cley, in Norfolk, the other day (a lesser yellowlegs had caused a bit of a fuss among the local birders) and was walking back from the hides when this bloke said \u201c I hear you\u2019re a poet\u201d and proceeded to tell me about \u201cthis wonderful girl\u201d (some folk still use the word) he\u2019d heard reading recently. Joanna Guthrie. Hers is the most recent Rialto First Collection.<\/p>\n
It would be difficult not to warm to a poet with such talents, particularly for the unexpected. The book\u2019s opening line is \u2018We rowed through star porridge\u201d, and there\u2019s plenty more – \u201cbirdsong stitches fat air like a blanket,\u201d etc. This is writing that freshens up your vision, and refreshes your mind. And look out for the cheeky bits – in one poem, for example, she has \u2018skid\u2019 and \u2018kids\u2019 one above the other in succeeding lines.<\/p>\n
Michael Tolkien, reviewing the book in Ambit writes of her \u201cexceptional humanity\u201d and says her \u201cremarkable first collection cuts across accepted and expected boundaries and dimensions, directing us towards a physical world of overlooked riches.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michael Mackmin<\/em><\/p>\n Like scraps of cloth cheap blink<\/strong><\/p>\n As birds come whistling and flute and croon like As birdsong stitches fat air like a blanket, Joanna Guthrie was born in London in 1970 and grew up near Diss on the Norfolk-Suffolk border. After a decade living in the West Country, she’s currently based in Norwich. In between traveling and idling, she has done various jobs, including working with the homeless and in mental health. She was shortlisted in the Creative Non-Fiction category of New Writing Partnership’s \u2018New Writing Ventures\u2019 and is currently working on a political travelogue\/memoir.<\/p>\n \u2018Joanna Guthrie is an astonishing new voice and we should cherish her gifts.\u2019 \u2018There is a tenderness and depth and understanding in Guthrie’s work throughout, an understanding of those dark lanes and fat rivers that commands admiration.’ (The Rialto First Collection Series 2007) It would be difficult not to warm to a poet with such talents, particularly for the unexpected. The book\u2019s opening line is \u2018We rowed through star porridge\u201d, and there\u2019s plenty more – \u201cbirdsong stitches fat air like a blanket,\u201d etc. This is writing that freshens up your vision, and refreshes your mind.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":4211,"template":"","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":""},"product_brand":[],"product_cat":[170],"product_tag":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1895","1":"product","2":"type-product","3":"status-publish","4":"has-post-thumbnail","6":"product_cat-books","7":"product_shipping_class-books","9":"first","10":"instock","11":"shipping-taxable","12":"purchasable","13":"product-type-simple"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product\/1895","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/product"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4211"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1895"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"product_brand","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_brand?post=1895"},{"taxonomy":"product_cat","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_cat?post=1895"},{"taxonomy":"product_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.therialto.co.uk\/pages\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/product_tag?post=1895"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\njazz, the caw of a voice cracks over the field.
\nIt bounces across the ridges. Wind slides through:
\na belly \u2013 gathers before and draws behind: a sweep.
\nSweet, pineful breaths of living air
\nbare themselves and wait, into the season.<\/p>\n
\na bark break, and swallows whole itself, no more.
\nThe sky spreads down, an open-mouthed heart,
\nto lead, and press its muscles on the leaves
\nwhich have such baby bones they do no bleeding.
\nAnd little legs and stalks walk around to feel it.<\/p>\nAuthor biog<\/h3>\n
\nCatherine Smith<\/p>\n
\nGeorge Szirtes<\/p>\n
\nISBN 978-0-9551273-0-4<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"