THE MOON LOOKS ON THEM ALL: Angela Topping browses a collection of essays by John Lucas on the subject of friends and friendship
The Moon Looks On Them All
John Lucas
Greenwich Exchange 2024
ISBN 9781910996836
314 pages £15.99
John Lucas is a muscular literary critic, who has shown a particular interest in championing working class writers. He is also a poet, jazz musician and fierce intellectual. Here we see him in a softer mood. These essays are elegiac in tone and about such diverse topics as now dead poet friends, his beloved cat, his favourite football manager, his favourite cricketer, and a secretary called Olive, who worked with him at Loughborough University, where he was a professor of English. The common thread is ‘people who during my life have meant much to me’. This is a very personal book, and the memories Lucas recounts are his own memories of that person, and are therefore unassailable, even though others might have different memories.
The book opens with an essay about Anne Stevenson, which was previously included in a book of Critical Essays on Anne Stevenson, edited by her friend Angela Leighton (Liverpool University Press 2010). It is good to see it reprinted here, preceded by a more personal tribute which catches Stevenson’s passion for poetry and her habit of dashing off letters too hurriedly then soon realising she’d been too harsh. Lucas calls them ‘pieces of paper gelignite’. I was on the receiving end of a few of these and know exactly what he means. He admires Matt Simpson’s patience, which was greater than his own. I like this self-deprecating anecdote. The essay “Making Poetry” which follows, methodically places Stevenson in her context, and provides a deft analysis of her contribution to poetry – particularly poetry by women – as well as reflecting on her American credentials.
Lucas mentions the festschrift he edited with Matt Simpson for Anne’s 70th birthday, in which I was pleased to have a poem. Many poets were invited to the party, unbeknown to Anne, who thought it was just her book launch. After all the readings, music was provided by John Lucas’ jazz band. It was a night to remember, and a splendid occasion for this celebrated poet.
.
Another essay which holds particular interest for me is “Letters of Introduction”, because I was also a close friend of Matt Simpson’s. I remember encouraging Matt to write to John Lucas, which he was keen to do but afraid it might seem presumptuous, which was typical of Matt’s modesty. John Lucas became a very important friend to Matt and was a great support to him, publishing two of his books and a posthumous Collected. It is splendid to read his account of that friendship, and his tribute to Matt’s erudition and critical acuity. Thanks to Lucas, Matt enjoyed several wonderful holidays on the Greek Island of Aegina, which meant a lot to him and about which he wrote some very fine poems.
Two other essays I found very touching are those entitled “Olive” and “Our Cat”. Lucas introduces Olive to the reader by means of an anecdote, which illustrates her cautious character. Starting in media res draws the reader in, before we even know who she is. Her catchphrase: ‘I’m a little bit concerned’ is used to humorous effect. His affection and respect for this straight-laced indomitable woman is very obvious. Lucas recounts her life story, which is full of surprises, such as her having been a Land Army girl; and he records her death in her eighties with quiet dignity, saving one last amusing anecdote till last. This way the focus is not on her death but on her character.
It is delightful that Lucas counts the cat, who adopted him and his family one spring morning, as a friend who is worthy of a memoir. This brindled cat was pregnant. The family cared for her in the dark cupboard where she chose to give birth and where the children found the kittens curled, ‘three tiny balls of wool’. Tigga stayed, and became essential to the family. Lucas gives the reader the whole history of this fantastical, magical cat, who sounds like T.S Eliot should have written a poem about her for his Book of Practical Cats, had he but had the chance to know her. This essay is full of delights. It is followed by two poems, which enhance the prose piece. The first is very short, describing the cat rolling at the bottom of the apple tree, and the second “Letting Go”, gives us a series of small moments, followed by her death, then Lucas looking down on her grave:
… a garden blue with shadow,
a plum tree, burial mound beneath it.
Blood red among abundant leaves
plums ripen and fall.
The plum tree is a motif throughout the poem, appearing full of blossom, then of fruit. This image of autumn has a sense of the rightness of things, the circle of life, tinged with sorrow. The plum tree is another friend.
Another essay, “Lol”, reflects Lucas’ love of jazz. Lol is a drummer, whose style is ‘deft’ and subtle. Lucas, an expert on Dickens, compares him to Joe Gargery, that loveable blacksmith in Great Expectations who is the only real dispenser of love and kindness Pip knows as a child. At the point of meeting Lol, Lucas had experienced bad drummers who couldn’t give the bands what they needed, so wasn’t expecting much, and was pleasantly surprised. As a result of a post-gig conversation, Lucas starts playing for a band Lol is involved with and thus the friendship deepens. This is a lovely chatty essay with lots of dialogue and gives as fascinating window on what’s like playing with a band on a regular footing.
This is a weighty book, and I have only given a flavour of it. There is lots more engaging material contained within; and this is a book I will take down from a shelf again and again, to savour an essay or two. Lucas writes prose with an engaging chatty style and these essays are readable and interesting.
Feb 24 2025
THE MOON LOOKS ON THEM ALL
THE MOON LOOKS ON THEM ALL: Angela Topping browses a collection of essays by John Lucas on the subject of friends and friendship
John Lucas is a muscular literary critic, who has shown a particular interest in championing working class writers. He is also a poet, jazz musician and fierce intellectual. Here we see him in a softer mood. These essays are elegiac in tone and about such diverse topics as now dead poet friends, his beloved cat, his favourite football manager, his favourite cricketer, and a secretary called Olive, who worked with him at Loughborough University, where he was a professor of English. The common thread is ‘people who during my life have meant much to me’. This is a very personal book, and the memories Lucas recounts are his own memories of that person, and are therefore unassailable, even though others might have different memories.
The book opens with an essay about Anne Stevenson, which was previously included in a book of Critical Essays on Anne Stevenson, edited by her friend Angela Leighton (Liverpool University Press 2010). It is good to see it reprinted here, preceded by a more personal tribute which catches Stevenson’s passion for poetry and her habit of dashing off letters too hurriedly then soon realising she’d been too harsh. Lucas calls them ‘pieces of paper gelignite’. I was on the receiving end of a few of these and know exactly what he means. He admires Matt Simpson’s patience, which was greater than his own. I like this self-deprecating anecdote. The essay “Making Poetry” which follows, methodically places Stevenson in her context, and provides a deft analysis of her contribution to poetry – particularly poetry by women – as well as reflecting on her American credentials.
Lucas mentions the festschrift he edited with Matt Simpson for Anne’s 70th birthday, in which I was pleased to have a poem. Many poets were invited to the party, unbeknown to Anne, who thought it was just her book launch. After all the readings, music was provided by John Lucas’ jazz band. It was a night to remember, and a splendid occasion for this celebrated poet.
.
Another essay which holds particular interest for me is “Letters of Introduction”, because I was also a close friend of Matt Simpson’s. I remember encouraging Matt to write to John Lucas, which he was keen to do but afraid it might seem presumptuous, which was typical of Matt’s modesty. John Lucas became a very important friend to Matt and was a great support to him, publishing two of his books and a posthumous Collected. It is splendid to read his account of that friendship, and his tribute to Matt’s erudition and critical acuity. Thanks to Lucas, Matt enjoyed several wonderful holidays on the Greek Island of Aegina, which meant a lot to him and about which he wrote some very fine poems.
Two other essays I found very touching are those entitled “Olive” and “Our Cat”. Lucas introduces Olive to the reader by means of an anecdote, which illustrates her cautious character. Starting in media res draws the reader in, before we even know who she is. Her catchphrase: ‘I’m a little bit concerned’ is used to humorous effect. His affection and respect for this straight-laced indomitable woman is very obvious. Lucas recounts her life story, which is full of surprises, such as her having been a Land Army girl; and he records her death in her eighties with quiet dignity, saving one last amusing anecdote till last. This way the focus is not on her death but on her character.
It is delightful that Lucas counts the cat, who adopted him and his family one spring morning, as a friend who is worthy of a memoir. This brindled cat was pregnant. The family cared for her in the dark cupboard where she chose to give birth and where the children found the kittens curled, ‘three tiny balls of wool’. Tigga stayed, and became essential to the family. Lucas gives the reader the whole history of this fantastical, magical cat, who sounds like T.S Eliot should have written a poem about her for his Book of Practical Cats, had he but had the chance to know her. This essay is full of delights. It is followed by two poems, which enhance the prose piece. The first is very short, describing the cat rolling at the bottom of the apple tree, and the second “Letting Go”, gives us a series of small moments, followed by her death, then Lucas looking down on her grave:
The plum tree is a motif throughout the poem, appearing full of blossom, then of fruit. This image of autumn has a sense of the rightness of things, the circle of life, tinged with sorrow. The plum tree is another friend.
Another essay, “Lol”, reflects Lucas’ love of jazz. Lol is a drummer, whose style is ‘deft’ and subtle. Lucas, an expert on Dickens, compares him to Joe Gargery, that loveable blacksmith in Great Expectations who is the only real dispenser of love and kindness Pip knows as a child. At the point of meeting Lol, Lucas had experienced bad drummers who couldn’t give the bands what they needed, so wasn’t expecting much, and was pleasantly surprised. As a result of a post-gig conversation, Lucas starts playing for a band Lol is involved with and thus the friendship deepens. This is a lovely chatty essay with lots of dialogue and gives as fascinating window on what’s like playing with a band on a regular footing.
This is a weighty book, and I have only given a flavour of it. There is lots more engaging material contained within; and this is a book I will take down from a shelf again and again, to savour an essay or two. Lucas writes prose with an engaging chatty style and these essays are readable and interesting.