Away and see the things that words give a name to,the flight of syllables,wingspan stretching a noun. Test words wherever they live. Carol Ann Duffy is female,bisexual,and Scottish. Tony Blairs middle-class misgivings once denied her the job,but now she has broken into the ultimate dead-white-male bastion the poet laureateship of England.
Her biography might make her an unconventional choice,but her style has always won her great popular adulation. Im not interested,as a poet,in words like plash,Seamus Heaney words,interesting words. I like to use simple words but in a complicated way,she once said. This deceptive simplicity makes her a textbook staple,but great labour and an uncompromising politics goes into her light-seeming words. In The Worlds Wife,Duffys characters include Mrs Midas and Frau Freud,Anne Hathaway and Elviss twin sister,and their counter-tales are conversational,jokey and unexpectedly forceful.
The royal family has indicated that Duffy will not be expected to crank out poems for Edward and Sophie,as she had once feared. Though some of Englands most hallowed names have been its poet-laureates,the position presents an existential dilemma for many poets. After all,a true poet is supposed to pit herself against the nations tinny narratives,not compose little verses for state occasions. Southey and Wordsworth earned Byrons eternal contempt for their bureaucratic pretensions You have your salary; wast for that you wrought?/And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise,and their shrunken horizons There is a narrowness in such a notion/ Which makes me wish youd change your lakes for ocean. If someone has comfortably filled out the role,it was John Betjeman with his serene,untroubled hold over middle England. One can only hope that Duffy manages to escape the fate of her predecessors,whose public pomp paralysed their poetry.