Jamie resists being labelled an environmental / nature poet, as she rightly resists many labels! But it’s certainly the case that the environment and a commitment to the more-than-human world are core concerns and preoccupations. In her introduction to the recent anthology of Scottish nature writing Antlers of Water, Jamie refers to its interest in the’intersection of modernity and nature in a rapidly changing Scotland,’ and such a description equally suits her own practice. In the context of Glasgow’s upcoming hosting of COP26, then, Jamie’s appointment is hugely apposite (can I go as far as to say inspired?!) Only the other week, the latest climate change report emanating from the IPCC described anthropogenic climate change as’unequivocal’, while setting out both a warning as to the consequences of continued inaction, and also a sense of hope that it’s not quite too late yet. But what can poetry do about that? I hear you ask. I quote Jamie from the introduction to Antlers of Water:
As we realise we must halt destruction, reduce emissions and renegotiate our relationship with the natural world, our noticing is a vital contribution. Out of our noticing comes our art and our writing. For me, this noticing and caring, this attention, this writing from within personal circumstances, whether about an insect or a mountain, amounts to a political act. In a time of ecological crisis, I would argue that simply insisting upon our right to pay heed to natural landscapes and other nonhuman lifeforms amounts to an act of resistance to the forces of destruction. It doesn’t actually take much to be an eco-writer or a nature poet. It begins when you pay attention to the world, and to language, and strive to bring the two together. This writing matters. And so, crucially, does our reading.
I first read Jamie’s work in 2005 when I was gifted a copy of Findings upon departing my role as Parliamentary Officer at Friends of the Earth Scotland to complete a Creative Writing MA. Subsequently her name and work proved hugely relevant to my doctoral and postdoctoral academic research into the relationship between literature and the environment (specifically climate change). Of all the writers I read in this regard (and there were many), perhaps she captures the problem of writing the scale of climate change most evocatively in the opening of Surfacing:
D’ou venons-nous? Que sommes-nous? Ou allons-nous?
At your cave mouth, you wonder if the ice will ever return, a natural cycle, or if we’ve gone too far with our Anthropocene. But who can answer that? We just can’t grasp the scale of our species’ effects. But the single falling stone which could smash our brains out – we understand that.
In this context, and also elsewhere, she quotes Hugh MacDiarmid’s line, ‘Scotland, small?’ I both imagine, and am hopeful, that during Jamie’s Makarship we will experience an enlarging of our understanding of who and what Scotland is, through an encouragement to focus upon its smallest details and relationships. She certainly has the refreshing art of saying everything by saying nothing, and not letting us become complacent in our Scottishness. I quote from a poem whose jingoistic sounding title’Wings of Scotland’ sits in marvellously constructive tension with the poem itself:
Glenogil Estate: poisoned buzzard (Carbofuran).
No prosecution.
Millden Estate: poisoned buzzard (Alphachloralose).
No prosecution.
Millden Estate: poisoned golden eagle’Alma’ (Carbofuran).
No prosecution.
I needn’t continueÛ_When Kathleen Jamie last read at StAnza in 2017 the event was so oversubscribed that we had to livestream (how 2021!) it into another venue so that everyone could attend. I very much look forward to welcoming her back over the coming years. I conclude here by inviting you to raise a glass / cup to Jamie (my own is a morning mug of coffee right now). I’d also like to turn to the Chair of StAnza, Robyn Marsack, who has a knack for finding the right line of poetry for every occasion. One of her favourites is from Edwin Morgan and feels appropriate here, at this moment of embarking:
It’s hard to go.
Let’s go!
The Makar position, in the current context, will undoubtedly bring its challenges over the coming years; all of us at StAnza wish Kathleen Jamie well. We hugely look forward to working with her to the benefit of Scottish poetry, and Scotland itself, over the next three years.
