Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

In 1997 Anvil Press published Beyond Bedlam, the first mainstream anthology of poems by survivors of mental illness. There had been other anthologies, of course, particularly those published by Survivors' Poetry, but this was different. It was supported by the Royal Bethlem Hospital, London (the original 'Bedlam') and the Maudsley Hospital; it was edited by Matthew Sweeney and Ken Smith, two nationally-known poets who had themselves suffered mental illness; and it was published by one of the top publishers in Britain specialising in poetry.

   The book was launched at a celebratory reading at the Museum of London followed by readings in other parts of the country, and it was widely and enthusiastically reviewed including on BBC radio. There was a widespread sense of a taboo being finally broken. Above all, there was the book's extraordinary range: cheek by jowl with the illustrious dead, a majority of the poems were by people who had not been published before in a book or at all. Beyond Bedlam sold well for years and has only recently gone out of print.

   We wanted to celebrate this groundbreaking anthology and Anvil kindly let us have the (living) contributors' addresses. We wrote to all 60 of them with four questions and invited them to send a poem. Twentythree of them replied.

How did you come to be included in 'Beyond Bedlam'?

   Many heard of the planned anthology through attending Survivors Poetry workshops or National Schizophrenia Fellowship meetings. The Maudsley produced a flyer inviting contributions which was distributed widely. Poems were also invited in Poetry Review, Poetry London and Poetry Ireland Newsletter. Three contributors were members of Matthew Sweeney's writing class at Morley College, London; others were friends, or friends of friends, of Ken Smith; and two - Cecilia Grainger and Ruth Silcock – were approached by Anvil.

   Some have written about what they felt when they decided to send poems in. Pascale Petit: "In my cover letter I explained why I was eligible - because of my experience of depression (which I hopefully have now recovered from), and my mother's lifelong mental illness. It felt strange disclosing my personal history." And Cath Kilcoyne writes of using her own name for the first time, of previously submitting pieces "under a pseudonym. Another concealment, an expression of shame and denial. I was a playwright. I had always embedded myself, concealed my voice inside of the characters I created. A friend suggested I speak for myself. I committed myself to paper. I used my own name. A rite of passage."

What did the experience mean to you?

   Many write of their delight in being chosen for publication. Mala Mason: "I went round for days on a high, I could hardly believe it. I felt so empowered by being selected - especially by two editors who I knew from experience were very tough. I felt it was a real validation of my work." Josie Kildea: "it seemed extraordinarily good that writing concerning mental illness was being believed, being respected... En-courage-ment, what benign power is in that word."

   Several write of feeling validated by being published, of being given "a sense of value". Fatma Durmush: "The experience meant that I was a poet. It also meant I was privileged and in the company of the finest minds of the 20th century." And Mala Mason again: "When I got my copy and saw my poem in it, I felt very elated. Now I knew that no matter how many times I might put myself down I had something concrete to point to - to say 'yes, I have achieved something in my life which makes a mark in the world - and it will be there always'." Many mentioned their pride in being in distinguished company, though Susan Gaukroger was "a bit daunted to find I was on the same page as Ezra Pound and that in one review (Independent on Sunday) our contributions were compared!"

   Perhaps Pascale Petit sums up everyone's overall feeling: "It was a coming out. The fact that the two editors were brilliant high profile poets and that it was published by Anvil made it for the first time seem okay to write poems about mental distress.” She continues, “Until then I felt I was expected to tone down the nature of my themes to suit British tastes. When the anthology appeared I considered it groundbreaking, and hoped it could be the first step in letting in more emotionally open poetry." Several were particularly pleased to appear in such a beautifully produced book: "such lovely cream paper that took the print well and a strong cover design"
(Bruce Barnes).

Did you attend the launch reading at the Museum of London? If so, what are you memories of it?

   Some did not attend the launch reading because of distance or for other reasons: "I dislike London and would not have been able to enjoy the occasion" (Denise Jones); "I had a psychotherapy session at that time and felt unable to do without the session" (Jonathan Asser).

Of those who went, some enjoyed the occasion greatly. Val Lee writes "It was the first major launch reading that I'd ever been to. The biggest and probably the best...Some of the poets were very at ease , whereas many of us were thrilled, even proud to be at the event, but in no way confident of being real poets. Towards the middle of the evening we all stood round in a rough circle while speeches were made and chosen poets read aloud. It was a very special and validating evening." And Mala Mason: "it was great fun. The highlight was when people came up to me and asked me to sign their copies of Beyond Bedlam. I really felt a star!"

   Others felt uncomfortable. Angela Morton: "I travelled from Wales and did feel out on my own there... I was aware of known poets arriving and being greeted by their tribal groups." And, most vividly, Ruth Silcock: "It was difficult to find the Museum, the night was dark and I think wet, there was a circular stone staircase going up the outside of a sort of fortress. Other people as well as myself were rather lost, there was a lush foyer of some sort and then a lift took us down into the depths of the building, into a huge dark vaulted room with pillars, areas of light over tables with wine, the Lord Mayor's coach and an exhibition of the history of the Maudsley Hospital and Bedlam before that, including examples of humane and inhumane treatment.

   "There seemed to be different groupings - publishers pouring out wine which ran out before I found it, unfortunately, as a glass of wine would have helped. Publishers and poets were chatting together. Then there were the professional workers, including some from the Maudsley. There were a lot of other people but the most moving people were standing against pillars in the shadows, often solitary, and I remember the smell of fear.

"To me, the launch itself was not exactly mad or psychotic but veering towards it, spooky and bizarre, the jolly people and the sick, and I felt this in myself, the impact of the suffering along with the jolly people. I don't know why such a strange place was found for the launch, instead of somewhere more coherent and ordinary.

"The two editors read very well, and this seemed to me to pull together the evening, which is really what the book itself does." Other launch readings followed, at Dartington, Brighton (where Mary O'Dwyer met Seamus Heaney) and elsewhere.

Have you carried on writing poetry since? If so, how has it developed?

Almost all the respondents are still writing poetry, for themselves, for writing groups or for publication or performance. Since Beyond Bedlam, Pascale Petit has published two collections and a third (about her mother), The Huntress, is due in spring 2005. She says "In my first book, Heart of a Deer, the extreme nature of some of my subject-matter is still kept at some distance, but by my second book, The Zoo Father, I got bolder." Jonathan Asser has had a pamphlet, The Switch, published by Donut Press and then a first full-length collection, Outside The All Stars, published last year by Arc. He says "Writing poetry is a great way to work through psychological problems because it offers a space where emotional material can be held and thought about, instead of acted on without thought".

Angela Morton's first collection, The Holding Ground, was published by the Collective Press, Abergavenny, in 2002 and Bruce Barnes' second collection, Somewhere Else, by Utistugu Press, Bradford, in 2003. Mary Guckian has had two collections with Swan Press, Dublin, and Eamer O'Keeffe has published numerous booklets in London. She works with several writing groups, as does
Patrick McManus who also appears on various websites. Val Lee has chiefly moved on to prose and had two novels published, most recently The Comedienne (Diva). Cecilia Grainger now writes full-time for the theatre and has had several plays performed, most recently Dog's Bite; Bee's Sting set in a boxing gym.

Two respondents' lives have been changed by Beyond Bedlam. Susan Gaukroger says, “as a result of a conversation I had with Mind when I sent in my apologies [for not attending the launch reading] I went on to apply for a Mind millennium award to set up arts and writing workshops in the Staffordshire Moorlands. We set up an arts and mental health group called Borderland Voices and are still going strong - have received SRB and Give it Sum (Robbie Williams) funding plus County and District Arts etc. and are hoping to secure long-term funding for an Arts on Referral pilot scheme."

   And Larry Butler, a founder member of Survivors' Poetry Scotland (SPS), says, "Publishing in Beyond Bedlam, along side well-known and well-established writers, boosted my confidence in the work I was doing as Arts Development worker for SPS. We went on to form a charity, employ several staff and publish our own magazine, Nomad, which is now funded by the Scottish Arts Council. It felt as if poetry and the therapeutic potential of creative writing was moving into mainstream literature. From that time, I became more involved in the National Association for Poetry Therapy (USA) and have been a contributor at three of their annual conferences."

   Considering the great good that Beyond Bedlam did, in breaking down a taboo and giving "a sense of value" to all its contributors, it is surely time for someone to start planning a sequel.