Stephen Fry
'Turn of Phrase: poems, stories & stuff'

Reviewed by Clark Gormley
(Publisher: Hutchinson 2005)

This is a book about how to write poetry. Now I’m going to put my cards on the table from the start. My formal learning on the subject consists of analysis of poetry in 2 Unit English at high school, a fleeting critique of some poems in a university creative writing course, and a bit of critiquing in an email writing group. Other than that, nothing, zip. Not a sausage. From what I’ve gleaned there is precious little education that anyone gets in actually writing poetry, as opposed to reading and understanding it. And this is precisely why Stephen Fry has written this book.

I know what you’re thinking. Stephen Fry, actor, comedian, has written a couple of novels. He’s a celebrity. What does he know about writing poetry? He demonstrates in this book, to me at least, that he knows quite a lot. He obviously has a thorough knowledge of the classics, as you’d expect from an educated upper-class Englishman. However, his knowledge and enthusiasm for the subject stretches well beyond a sound education. He must have spent a fair part of his life reading it and learning about it.

He has split the book into four sections:- metre, rhyme, form, and diction and poetics today. It becomes clear in the third section that Fry prefers structured poetry, particularly of the romantics. However before the free-versers butt in, I think there is something for every poetry writen in this book. As he points out, he can’t think of a single poet, living or dead, modern or classical in style, who does not use rhythm and rhyme in their poetry.

Many might think that breaking the book into sections in this way is the antithesis of such an abstract and fluid act as writing poetry. But Fry does what the English do so well. He can put complex concepts into words that can be understood precisely. Here’s an example on the subject of rhyming, which completely legitimises the process that we must all go through in writing structured rhyming verse.

From Section 2 part III:

Whatever we may feel about rhymed poetry it is somehow shaming to talk about our search for rhyming words. It is so banal, so mechanistic, so vulgar to catch oneself chanting ‘ace, race, chase, space, face, case, grace, base, brace, dace, lace…’ when surely a proper poet should be thinking high, pure thoughts, nailing objective correlatives, pondering metaphysical insights, observing delicate nuances in nature and the human heart, sifting gold from grit in the swift-running waters of language and soliciting the Muse on the upper slopes of Parnassus. Well, yes. But a rhyme is a rhyme and won’t come unless searched for. Wordsworth and Shakespeare, Milton and Yeats, Auden and Chaucer have all been there before us, screwing up their faces as they recite words that only share that sound, that chime, that rhyme. To search for a rhyme is no more demeaning than to search for a harmony at the piano by flattening this note or that and no more vulgar than mixing paints on a pallet before applying them to the canvas. It is one of the things we do.

The third section, about form, starts with stanzas, and then goes through examples of ballads, odes and sonnets, as well as the more obscure stuff like sestinas, villanelles, and pantoums. He also includes limericks, haiku and light verse. Explanations include a history of each form. He warns the reader beforehand, but he includes some examples of Norman Douglas limericks which really are absolutely disgusting. Maybe it’s just me, but they gave me the best belly laugh I’ve had in ages.

The last section is Fry’s opinions on poetry including what’s inspired him, and tips on writing. It’s excellent stuff. He talks about choice and arrangement of words, and about writing poetry in English as opposed to other languages. He gives references for further reading at the end.

There is quite a bit of mainly Greek terminology used throughout the book. These are listed in tables and in the Glossary, so they don’t need to be memorised.

It is a practical book, and there are a number of exercises throughout in writing to various meters and forms. He explains that these are the equivalent of a musician playing scales. I found these very useful and enjoyable. For each he includes examples that he has written, and he says that they came to him quickly off the top of his head. They probably did, but they’re written with the wit that you’d expect from a man who played Oscar Wilde on screen. Fry is a very entertaining writer and I had quite a few laugh-out-loud moments.

The other thing he does very well is he looks at examples from the great poets, even where they sometimes break the rules, and puts forward reasons for why they did what they did, and why it works. Despite the fact that poetry appreciation is down to interpretation by the individual, I found myself agreeing on almost every example. One of his analyses of an example of bad poetry, that he kept coming back to throughout the book, was The Tay Bridge Disaster by William McGonagall. I enjoyed this, particularly where he compares it with Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade.

I’d recommend this book to every poet. As well as being a tool for understanding and improving your craft, it is an education in the classics and in old and modern poets, as well as an entertaining read. I found that it made clear a few things that I sort of knew intuitively, as well as learning a whole lot more.

– Clark Gormley, October 2006

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