
‘Vibes-based poetry': Ray Shipley and Erik Kennedy in conversation
Ray Shipley: Kia ora, Erik! Strange to be talking to you semi-formally through this Google doc when just days ago we were at the pub with a crowd of poets discussing the ethics of honey and whether one could truly know a bee. Anyway, congratulations on the publication of Sick Power Trip! What a title, what a cover, and of course what a collection of poems – your most 'personal and vulnerable', it says on the back, but as always it's deeply funny and cutting and political and full of a sort of simmering rage at the way things are, too. It makes for compulsive, feverish reading (I say as a compliment!).
What was it like to write? Did the process feel different to your previous collections?
Erik Kennedy: Thanks, Ray! I'd like to say that by book number three it's easier to marshal poems together into a manuscript, but I think I keep setting higher and higher expectations for myself, so it was actually just as much of a challenge as ever. Additionally, I had a lot of critiques and ideas that I knew I wanted to jam in there – about the conditions of life under late capitalism, etc, and it's tricky to find the right balance between message, entertainment and song.
And there are a number of long Covid poems in the book – in fact, that's how it opens and closes – and obviously the experiences underlying pieces like that weren't fun. But somehow the book was enjoyable to write and edit anyway. I wouldn't do it if it made me miserable!
RS: The balance of message and entertainment, song! What a task! Is that the responsibility of poetry now, do you think, or more of a personal task you've set yourself?
EK: I think it has always been the task of the poet! Maybe sometimes forgotten since poetry has become more institutionalised. (He says, as someone who is technically an adjunct fellow in an English department.)
I'm hardly the first person to advocate for poetry as a properly public-facing art, but I do believe that it should be. One of the great things about writing poems, as opposed to other forms, is that we get to respond in something like real time, to jump into the discourse.
You run a beloved reading series in Ōtautahi, Ray Shipley's Late Night Poetry Hour … do you think live poetry is a useful tool in getting points of view across? Can we go so far as to say it does things, or is that too far?
RS: I think it can be a useful tool for getting points of view across – but to who, to where? The longer I host LNPH, the more I wonder if what we're all actually doing as poets is saying, mostly to each other: I'm thinking / I'm working it out / I'm boiling over and responding with I hear / I'm listening / I understand. I wonder if most of the people that might most benefit from any 'message' in our poems are not often in the room or picking up the book.
I still think that means it's doing something though! I am trying not to sound cynical. My experience is that the community of people who gather around the writing and sharing of poems are being strengthened by that process in all kinds of ways that may not be to do with the words themselves. Does that make sense?
EK: It does make sense. But it's funny to think that some of what poetry does isn't actually about the words! As much as we labour over every decision to do with technique and style, there are actually intangible things occurring that have a big impact on reception. Vibes-based poetry. Still, I like to give audiences credit for being clever. I'm surprised sometimes that ambitious or slightly complicated poems can go over well in performance. I think people want rich and filling work, not just a diet of sugar.
RS: Oh, I'm not surprised by an audience's appetite for rich and filling work! Hooray for ambitious and complicated poems! I think I'll always prefer poetry live though – it's the shared gasps and laughter and rapturous silence and finger-clicks and conversation afterwards that has always drawn me into poetry, and that's only gotten stronger as the world feels more isolated and divided.
Anyway, I think we're agreeing with each other! We want it all. Can you tell me about some of the poetry (live or in print) that has stuck with you recently? And what you're looking forward to?
EK: I really like Gregory Kan's and Philip Armstrong's and Anna Jackson's new books. I've been on a Selima Hill kick, and she has, like, 20 books, so that can keep a person occupied. Oksana Maksymchuk's Still City, about the Ukraine War, is unmissable. I know Sheila Heti's Alphabetical Diaries is probably 'not poetry', but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't recommend it. So good.
As far as forthcoming things go, I worked on Frankie McMillan's new book, Eddie Sparkle's Bridal Taxi (what a title), so I have to give that a shout-out. Helen Rickerby has a book on the way called My Bourgeois Apocalypse, which is another title so good that it should be illegal. New Nick Ascroft in September. If we think about overseas work, there's a new Richard Siken on the way. A new Heather Christle. Shane McCrae has edited a new volume of uncollected Dream Songs by John Berryman, which is undoubtedly of literary historical interest. I suspect the poems aren't first-rate, otherwise Berryman would have done something with them, but you never know!
RS: Far out, that's quite the list. For me I was thinking about Liz Breslin's launch of Show You're Working Out at Te Wā over the weekend – such a cosy celebration, not just of that collection but of some of the incredible poetry coming out of Ōtautahi. And every month when Claudia Herz Jardine's Ōtautahi Lit Scene Zine comes out I'm just blown away by what's on offer. How has the scene developed since you've been involved? Where do you hope it'll grow to next?
EK: The most nourishing literary relationships I have are the ones I have here. In terms of change, it's not just that there is more happening than there used to be (there is), but also the organisations that represent continuity have evolved since I arrived in 2013. The Canterbury Poets' Collective, for example, which I have been on the committee of since 2017, programmes its two annual reading series in a necessarily more modern way, because audiences change.
Poetry changes, for that matter! If there's anything I want for Ōtautahi, it's maybe a little more recognition from people in other centres that we have a vibrant scene with a lot of things happening.
RS: Hmm … I'd love to pick your brain about what 'necessarily more modern' means to you, but we're running out of space! As for more recognition, I'm not sure that I hope for that, personally – it already feels to me that what's going on in Ōtautahi is a significant part of the wider Aotearoa poetry community.
For me, I'm really looking forward to seeing what grows from the Word – The Front Line youth slam, which has been gaining momentum here for a few years now. Again, I find myself most galvanised by communities of poets, of being in a room together, listening to each other, feeling and responding to a big scary world in our own ways. All welcome! More please! etc. Anyway. Thanks for chatting, Erik.
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Otago Daily Times
2 hours ago
- Otago Daily Times
‘I just want it to be complex'
The 2025 University of Otago Centre for Irish and Scottish Studies writing fellow, Irish writer Nicole Flattery, is making the most of being on the opposite side of the world from everyone she knows by finishing her long-awaited second novel. She talks to Rebecca Fox about finding her way as a person and a writer. Growing up, Nicole Flattery wanted to be an actor. She grabbed every theatre opportunity she could growing up in the Midlands, inland from Dublin, and confidently headed off to Trinity College to study theatre and film., "I wanted to be an actor for a very long time." However, as she learned more about her chosen trade and got involved in drama groups at university, she began to have second thoughts. "I sort of fell out of love with it a little bit. I'm sort of like a more internal person. I think I would find the process of auditioning and actually being out there all the time very exhausting." In a quandary at what to do next, Flattery fell back on her love of English — thanks to her English teacher dad — and reading. She knew she still wanted to do something creative — she had even briefly toyed with journalism when she was younger — so writing seemed to be the perfect choice. "When I was growing up, I didn't know any other writers. It just seemed like a very distant, sort of glamorous thing. "I think there is a big gap between thinking you want to do it and then understanding how to do it." Even in Ireland where there is a massive literary tradition, the way forward for aspiring writers is not necessarily that clear. even with a variety of arts council grants and mentorship programmes available. So Flattery decided to work for a year while she worked out her next steps. That was to return to Trinity, to study for her master's in creative writing. During these years she began writing short stories and submitting them for publication without much luck. "I think these things can seem very daunting." One day a friend read one of her short stories and made a few suggestions, which she tried. They worked. "I suddenly understood how to do something then. I got one story published, then I had another story published. And it just kind of seemed to work from there." During the next four years she worked on her short stories as much as she could. Those stories would come together as her first book, Show Them A Good Time , published in 2019 when she was 29. It won a Post Irish Book Award, the Kate O'Brien Award, the White Review Prize and appeared in the Irish Times list of the 100 best Irish books of the 21st century. "Looking back now, your first book is such an enjoyable process because you don't know what you're writing about or who you are. So everything kind of comes together. " While the general advice is to avoid short stories as it is hard to get collections published, Flattery is glad she ignored that. "They're falling out of popularity, which I find kind of mad. They always advise to go straight for a novel, but I really feel like I learned a lot writing short stories. "It's really how to edit yourself, how to be concise, how to make dialogue work in your favour. Just all of those things. The ability to take away anything like extraneous is incredibly useful." Although when it came to writing her first novel she may have taken that too far. "I was taking away everything. I love cutting stuff. I was like, I better stop doing this, because the novel is going to be 20 pages long." The stories are largely about young Irish women, most living in Ireland and have an "absurd, kind of fantastical" element to them. "Even though many people read them as autobiographical, this has never happened to me — it's impossible for this to happen to someone, sorry to disappoint you." The process also gave Flattery an insight into the themes and issues she is interested in exploring and writing about. "When I finished the book and I read over it, I was like this keeps reoccurring. So that was really interesting. I felt very fortunate to have it published." So when it came to writing her first novel, Flattery wanted to do something different. "Outside my wheelhouse." She decided on 1960s America, in Andy Warhol's "Factory". It is from the perspective of two girls typing up a A Novel , the novel Warhol produced in 1968. "I knew I really wanted to challenge myself. I kind of feel that is purpose of the whole thing. I actually made it so difficult for myself, so I did two perspectives which is always super tricky." But feeling as though everyone wants things easy these days, her own thoughts were that things should not be easy all the time. "I kind of do feel that if you want to get rewards, it should be hard. So I think people were surprised that I set the novel where I did. I think people thought I would follow it up with a novel in Ireland. Although it was very challenging, I'm really glad I did it, because I feel like I've actually learned a lot writing that book — even if the one thing I learned was never to write another historical novel, I learned that. So it can't be taken away from me." The level of historical research required to make a novel believable for the time period is intense. "But it was like, because of Warhol essentially being who he is, which is one of the most dominant figures of the 20th century, there was a reading list as long as my arm. There was so much to look at. There were so many films to watch. There was so much to explore. "In some ways, I felt really lucky that I got to do all that. Because I really enjoyed that aspect of it. And looking at his life, which was fascinating." It got less daunting though as she started to read the biographies of him and those in his orbit as many different stories soon emerged. Many in his orbit claimed to have had the idea of painting soup cans, one of Warhol's famous works. "I just realised they all lied all the time. Truly Warhol never stopped lying about everything he did. Even where he came from, even his childhood. If you could read one biography, it would tell you one thing, and another would tell you a completely different thing. "So I was like, you know what, it's not going to be a problem to fictionalise this. Because it's already fictional. It felt incredibly freeing to find that out." Flattery found the process of writing the book from there quite fun. While the setting might be different for this book, she stayed with female characters as she enjoys writing them. It was also an interesting time for women in Ireland when she was writing them, with the repeal of abortion laws and the decline in the power of the Catholic Church. "I feel like we're in this conversation around female characters in books, and films, and TV shows, and it's often whether or not they're likeable. I feel like that comes up again and again." Even when she is teaching, her students often comment on how her characters are sometimes not likeable — but writing likeable characters is not what Flattery is interested in doing. "I think my definition of likeable is pretty broad. I don't think of myself as saintly enough to cast judgement on other people, so everyone is likeable no matter how difficult life is. I just want it to be complex. I think it's more about getting to know and trying to understand a character's complexities or complications rather than making them some moral force or whatever. It just doesn't interest me at all." However, she did think the characters in the novel were going to be "pretty likeable", but looking back she admits they might be the "worst roles yet". "I'd rather read something that is willing to explore that than to look away from it. But it is something that I come up against again and again when people are very aggravated by a character, annoyed or irritated, almost looking at them as if they're a real person." There is a debate going on around whether or not men are being pushed out of fiction, which Flattery finds intriguing given male writers have dominated for centuries. "I think this is naturally arising out of decades of silence, rather than an industry pegged to push women. I don't believe that is true. I think more women are writing because they're finding the freedom to do it. I feel it is a very exciting time for Irish fiction in particular." A great reader herself, Flattery reads "everything" including short stories, although admits she has not read any recently. "I've been reading a lot of novels. And for this book, the latest one, I've been reading several plays." Her theatre studies come in handy at times as she finds inspiration for dialogue in plays. "Nothing does dialogue better than a play. I do love to go back and see how to play a certain scene, how to say less. But I consistently read novels." On the nearly 30-hour flight to New Zealand, she read Booker short-listed novel Flesh , by David Szalay. "It could win. I thought it was brilliant." While in New Zealand she hopes to read more New Zealand fiction. She is already a big fan of Janet Frame, in particular Faces in the Water , and Eleanor Catton's debut novel The Rehearsal . Flattery also has to finish the draft of her next novel. At this stage of her work she finds it helpful to be alone and free of distractions to write solidly for five or six hours at a time, so the residency, based at Caselberg House in Broad Bay, came along at the right time. "I'm really slow in the beginning and then I'm very quick when I get into something. But it's impossible to tell when that will be, or when I will be feeling inspired or able to finish something." When not writing books, Flattery, a keen film buff, writes film reviews and also reviews other authors' work for the likes of the Irish Times . "I actually really enjoy it. It feels like it uses a completely different part of my brain. I like thinking about these things, and I like thinking about a book and its context and what it means in this kind of contemporary moment." She finds writing criticism can provide a relief from the pressures of writing novel-length works. "It's an extremely straightforward job. And I think of them as separate things almost. I think also I really enjoy reading good criticism. And even criticism of my own books. It's a real joy to read something where someone's really thought about your book and responded to it." That is not to say she does not get angry over a bad review. "But at the same time if someone is paying attention, you might actually be, like, 'they're right'. So I think getting one of those or being able to read someone's work and give a review like that, it's really great. It's, like, a great way to engage with art. " As part of her residency, Flattery will be holding workshops and talking to students about creative writing, something she really enjoys. "I love to know what people are writing about. I'm nosy, I'm curious. I always find it very invigorating to read new work and be excited by it." Flattery is also looking forward to a holiday at the end of her residency. Her partner is coming out from Ireland and they plan to tour New Zealand for a month. "I really want to experience New Zealand." To see A conversation with Nicole Flattery, Dunningham Suite, Dunedin City Library, August 28, 5.30pm.


The Spinoff
15 hours ago
- The Spinoff
‘Vibes-based poetry': Ray Shipley and Erik Kennedy in conversation
Poets Ray Shipley and Erik Kennedy discuss New Zealand's poetry scene ahead of National Poetry Day on Friday. Ray Shipley: Kia ora, Erik! Strange to be talking to you semi-formally through this Google doc when just days ago we were at the pub with a crowd of poets discussing the ethics of honey and whether one could truly know a bee. Anyway, congratulations on the publication of Sick Power Trip! What a title, what a cover, and of course what a collection of poems – your most 'personal and vulnerable', it says on the back, but as always it's deeply funny and cutting and political and full of a sort of simmering rage at the way things are, too. It makes for compulsive, feverish reading (I say as a compliment!). What was it like to write? Did the process feel different to your previous collections? Erik Kennedy: Thanks, Ray! I'd like to say that by book number three it's easier to marshal poems together into a manuscript, but I think I keep setting higher and higher expectations for myself, so it was actually just as much of a challenge as ever. Additionally, I had a lot of critiques and ideas that I knew I wanted to jam in there – about the conditions of life under late capitalism, etc, and it's tricky to find the right balance between message, entertainment and song. And there are a number of long Covid poems in the book – in fact, that's how it opens and closes – and obviously the experiences underlying pieces like that weren't fun. But somehow the book was enjoyable to write and edit anyway. I wouldn't do it if it made me miserable! RS: The balance of message and entertainment, song! What a task! Is that the responsibility of poetry now, do you think, or more of a personal task you've set yourself? EK: I think it has always been the task of the poet! Maybe sometimes forgotten since poetry has become more institutionalised. (He says, as someone who is technically an adjunct fellow in an English department.) I'm hardly the first person to advocate for poetry as a properly public-facing art, but I do believe that it should be. One of the great things about writing poems, as opposed to other forms, is that we get to respond in something like real time, to jump into the discourse. You run a beloved reading series in Ōtautahi, Ray Shipley's Late Night Poetry Hour … do you think live poetry is a useful tool in getting points of view across? Can we go so far as to say it does things, or is that too far? RS: I think it can be a useful tool for getting points of view across – but to who, to where? The longer I host LNPH, the more I wonder if what we're all actually doing as poets is saying, mostly to each other: I'm thinking / I'm working it out / I'm boiling over and responding with I hear / I'm listening / I understand. I wonder if most of the people that might most benefit from any 'message' in our poems are not often in the room or picking up the book. I still think that means it's doing something though! I am trying not to sound cynical. My experience is that the community of people who gather around the writing and sharing of poems are being strengthened by that process in all kinds of ways that may not be to do with the words themselves. Does that make sense? EK: It does make sense. But it's funny to think that some of what poetry does isn't actually about the words! As much as we labour over every decision to do with technique and style, there are actually intangible things occurring that have a big impact on reception. Vibes-based poetry. Still, I like to give audiences credit for being clever. I'm surprised sometimes that ambitious or slightly complicated poems can go over well in performance. I think people want rich and filling work, not just a diet of sugar. RS: Oh, I'm not surprised by an audience's appetite for rich and filling work! Hooray for ambitious and complicated poems! I think I'll always prefer poetry live though – it's the shared gasps and laughter and rapturous silence and finger-clicks and conversation afterwards that has always drawn me into poetry, and that's only gotten stronger as the world feels more isolated and divided. Anyway, I think we're agreeing with each other! We want it all. Can you tell me about some of the poetry (live or in print) that has stuck with you recently? And what you're looking forward to? EK: I really like Gregory Kan's and Philip Armstrong's and Anna Jackson's new books. I've been on a Selima Hill kick, and she has, like, 20 books, so that can keep a person occupied. Oksana Maksymchuk's Still City, about the Ukraine War, is unmissable. I know Sheila Heti's Alphabetical Diaries is probably 'not poetry', but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't recommend it. So good. As far as forthcoming things go, I worked on Frankie McMillan's new book, Eddie Sparkle's Bridal Taxi (what a title), so I have to give that a shout-out. Helen Rickerby has a book on the way called My Bourgeois Apocalypse, which is another title so good that it should be illegal. New Nick Ascroft in September. If we think about overseas work, there's a new Richard Siken on the way. A new Heather Christle. Shane McCrae has edited a new volume of uncollected Dream Songs by John Berryman, which is undoubtedly of literary historical interest. I suspect the poems aren't first-rate, otherwise Berryman would have done something with them, but you never know! RS: Far out, that's quite the list. For me I was thinking about Liz Breslin's launch of Show You're Working Out at Te Wā over the weekend – such a cosy celebration, not just of that collection but of some of the incredible poetry coming out of Ōtautahi. And every month when Claudia Herz Jardine's Ōtautahi Lit Scene Zine comes out I'm just blown away by what's on offer. How has the scene developed since you've been involved? Where do you hope it'll grow to next? EK: The most nourishing literary relationships I have are the ones I have here. In terms of change, it's not just that there is more happening than there used to be (there is), but also the organisations that represent continuity have evolved since I arrived in 2013. The Canterbury Poets' Collective, for example, which I have been on the committee of since 2017, programmes its two annual reading series in a necessarily more modern way, because audiences change. Poetry changes, for that matter! If there's anything I want for Ōtautahi, it's maybe a little more recognition from people in other centres that we have a vibrant scene with a lot of things happening. RS: Hmm … I'd love to pick your brain about what 'necessarily more modern' means to you, but we're running out of space! As for more recognition, I'm not sure that I hope for that, personally – it already feels to me that what's going on in Ōtautahi is a significant part of the wider Aotearoa poetry community. For me, I'm really looking forward to seeing what grows from the Word – The Front Line youth slam, which has been gaining momentum here for a few years now. Again, I find myself most galvanised by communities of poets, of being in a room together, listening to each other, feeling and responding to a big scary world in our own ways. All welcome! More please! etc. Anyway. Thanks for chatting, Erik.


Scoop
2 days ago
- Scoop
Ration The Queen's Veges Revives Agitprop Theatre
Not so much a play or even a one-man show, more a piece of agitprop theatre that harks back to the 1970s, Ration The Queen's Veges is a bold defence of radical protest created by Te Pou Theatre and currently playing at Circa Theatre. Co-writer and director Tainui Tukiwaho says the piece is intended to address 'the way history is told, the way it is remembered, and the way it is conveniently forgotten. It's about uncertainty, about the feeling of being caught up in a story bigger than yourself, where the ground keeps shifting beneath you … What you will find is something absurd, something that unsettles and surprises, something that asks questions rather than offering easy answers.' In December 2023, members of the tangata whanua-led climate and social justice collective Te Waka Hourua obscured large chunks of the English text of Te Papa's version of the Treaty of Waitangi. In a bold display of derring-do worthy of Zorro, co-writer Te Wehi Ratana abseiled down from the ceiling and deftly deployed thick black spray paint so that it read in part - no. Her Majesty the Queen of England is the alien. ration the Queen's veggies. While all the other artists involved were charged, only Ratana received a prison sentence. Ratana's 'redaction action' was applauded by plenty, but appalled many others - 'some sang their praises, others called for blood.' In a recent Opinion piece in The Post, Ratana suggested this was precisely the reaction he hoped to provoke - 'A radical protest rests in a space of discomfort. It can be disruptive, loud, challenging, rebellious, and change-making. Rather than simply asking for reforms of a broken system, radical protests challenge the foundations of our unjust political and economic systems. Radical protests target the root causes of injustice, not just the symptoms that we see … A radical protest's aim is not to please everybody, because for many reasons that is impossible. The aim of radical protest is to challenge the status quo, to criticise, to inspire, and to ultimately raise our collective consciousness.' In his programme notes, Ratana suggests that 'Present society is a social construct. It has been pieced together with systems put in place by mostly wealthy, powerful, white men for at least the last 2,000 years, with no other purpose than to build wealth and power for those same men. While some people say the system is broken, I have a different thought … our current system, political and economic, is operating exactly how it was intended to, extracting all the wealth and resources from the masses, and then they'll fuck off to Mars when they can extract no more.' Ratana also explained how the original production began with just the bare bones of a story 'about the quiet voice of defiance that still burns within us even when we are silenced … which then grew into a full-scale theatre production with sell-out nights in Tāmaki Makaurua Auckland, giving fire to the kaupapa with their own spin. It exposed many more people to the story in an intimate, hilarious, and serious manner.' The dramatic 'action' of the piece takes place not only inside Rimutaka Prison, but also within the febrile imagination of the 'Actor,' played with great gusto by Ngahriwa Rauhina, with additional, live, off-stage dialogue provided by Roy Iro. Te Pou Theatre's production burns with all the incendiary intensity of long-suppressed grievance, laced with moments of sometimes confusing, but always pertinent social commentary. The cleverest line of the show concerns the inequality of bowel cancer screening. 'Nuff said …