For Work / For TV by Fee Griffin
As Versal’s founding editor, Megan M. Garr explained at the launch, For Work / For TV is a double-first: first book by Fee Griffin and the inaugural title released by Versal Editions. The book won the Amsterdam Open Book Prize in 2020. After a long and proud history as a “nucleaus of literary arts and experimentation in Amsterdam” and the completion of twelve gorgeous issues of their print journal, Versal is moving into books. It’s done itself proud.
There’s the book!
The slash in the middle of the title reverberates throughout Martijn van der Riet’s design. Die cut windows in the cover reveal hints of a background of thin blue on white slashes. This creates an exciting diagonal dynamic that’s echoed (yes!) on the spine. He hand made the title font so it echoes the slash, as well.
In a hugely practical innovation, the Table of Contents is on the back cover. A shopping reader will glance at the back and find compelling titles like, “Nan’s Sofa Wins,” “Eating Videos on YouTube and Being an Arsehole,” and “Apocalypse and the Garden Center.” Those ought to sell some books.
At her launch, Fee enthused over the space assigned to each poem. I loved how the layout taught me to read these poems, skipping back and forth across the spine and sometimes beginning on the right-hand side. Page 73 folds out! The color pallet is blue, white and goldenrod, with sweet little white-on-black cards inserted. What a delightful object to receive in the mail! It almost inspires me to forgive the postman for all the bills and junk mail he insists on leaving in my mailbox.
Then there are poems.
Oh, the poems! If they were on Netflix, the trailing adjectives would read: “Intelligent.” “Innovative.” “Funny.” Yes. Laugh-out-loud funny. Discerning, too.
Anyone who’s ever binge watched Bonanza understands the sick yearning that sends us to 1950s television during this raging pandemic. My binging is generally a mind-numbing nostalgia bath. I imagine Griffin watches TV with a poetic sensibility that thrives on absurdity.
Consider the sly jab in “Columbo Marries a Starship Captain & Talks About Other Things.” As Griffin explained at her launch, Kate Mulgrew played both Mrs. Columbo in the brief spin-off series and Captain Kathryn Janeway in Star Trek Voyager. The poem points at the absurd treatment of Mrs. Columbo in her husband’s TV series. She’s the invisible wife, seen only through her husband’s words. Griffin rejects the possibility that Mrs. Columbo is merely a plot device with the line, “Who would marry a plot device anyway?” Instead, the poem offers a brilliant explanation for Mrs. Columbo’s absence: She is off saving the universe with her Starship. Mostly, her husband doesn’t get it. He makes lame comments about the missus which (I imagine) are drawn from the “real” TV, showing insight only once, “This woman’s schedule, I mean, you wouldn’t believe it.” Such fun!
A confession: I have used the word “love” to describe my relationship with some of these poems. I love the unabashed exuberance of “Jane!” and I imagine “That’s not how it works” was written just for me.
Griffin draws from the experiences of factory workers for “Industrial Hauntings #1-4” and “Pea Season Immersive,” both of which reference family experiences: a father, who “watches twelve hours of broccoli go by;” a woman engaged in a “Shinkansen of the peas;” and a grandmother whose thumb tips are split “from threading all those nets.” Intimate proof of work’s toll.
The collection began life as Griffin’s MS thesis at the University of Lincoln. She spoke of her writing practice squeezed in between four children and two jobs (teaching and cleaning). Most of these poems, it seems, were written late in the night; a fact belied by their elegance and sonic grace. You’ll want them to be part of your life, especially if you’ve ever wondered about “the scrap value of flammable insects.”
Fee Griffin
Author Interview
Amanda: You mention spoken word debuts at The Birdcage and Tower Talks. How did this influence your practice? Did you find ever yourself reading and editing at the same time?
Fee: Yes, I definitely do that. Reading out loud when alone does a lot to help me with the rhythm of a poem - I say "out loud" which sounds quite grand somehow, but of course I mean me muttering in my bedroom! Being at a spoken word event is useful for much more than that though - like helping me realise if a line or stanza isn't needed and I'll just skip over it. Sometimes it surprises me what people laugh at, which is useful to help me understand things like pace. Time seems to exist more in the presence of other people, and I'll really get a feel for if something is too long or just (agh!) doesn't work! I love how great spoken word events like these create a sort of temporary, live anthology too - really interesting to see how people's work is affected by its chance placement between other poets' pieces.
Amanda: I'm intrigued by some of the themes you bring forward and wonder whether you might expand on their meaning or history. They are: things alphanumeric, June bugs, and Dark Victorian Picture Frames. Each of these - I think - appears more than once in this volume.
Fee: I really like the dryness of cataloguing! I used to memorise car number plates as a hobby; I had some real favourite combinations. I came across my parents' wedding album and each picture still had a designation like 3a, 3b etc., I guess so they could choose which they wanted to order from the photographer. That's where "The Scrap Value of Picture 6A" comes from. I'll attach the photo to this email for you! My parents got divorced and my dad died since then, so the photos' designations have shifted from a sense of commercial use to archive. My dad used to work at the tip and the number of photos people threw away got me thinking about their scrap value, and the poem kind of tumbled out of that thought pretty quickly.
As for June bugs, they just seem like something CS Lewis or Tim Burton invented that got out of hand and now everyone thinks they're real so they are?! I 40% don't believe in them, even when they're right in front of me. I guess that's what wonder is.
Dark victorian photo frames... frames add another time to an image. To start with it's not noticeable because it's a normal frame for the time, so it doesn't seem to add something. But then time just keeps on passing, and suddenly the frame is a marker of the picture being looked at 10, 20, 50, 100 years ago. The reverse of that is seeing 1970s visions of the future and all the space travellers 400 years from now are wearing flares! It's part of the impossibility of knowing which part of "now" is transient.
Amanda: Can you tell me about the Amsterdam Open Book Prize?
Fee: Last year was their first one! I had held and read one of Versal's gorgeous print journals before, so when I heard about their open book prize I already knew I loved the editorial choices and aesthetic of Versal. I've stayed in touch on social media with some of the shortlisted writers and runner up Tanatsei Gambura, and am just in awe at the quality of their work. Actually Tanatsei has her own collection coming out with Bad Betty Press (UK) this year, and I can't wait to get my hands on it!
Amanda: Versal describes itself as a community-centered publisher. Can you speak to the community(ies) that contributed or supported this work?
Fee: I'm just so grateful to everyone who has been involved in this book, at every stage, in every area. I've felt so supported by Megan and the team, and I just love being in regular touch with them and the other poets who did me the honour of reading at my launch. I feel so lucky to be a part of that community. As soon as it's legal and safe again for people to travel, I really want to go to Amsterdam, meet everyone there and attend one of their VERSO events live!
