Does Britain need a Poet Laureate? And if so, who should it be? They are the questions being asked ad nauseam in the British media and, forgive my rudeness, but really I couldn't care less. Anyway, as I'm not British, I don't think it's any of my business.
However, my fellow Irishman and former colleague, the BBC's distinguished foreign correspondent Fergal Keane, obviously sees it differently. Arguing in the London Independent that Seamus Heaney's fervently declared nationalism rules him out of the reckoning for the job, he comments: "We would hardly instal a Russian or a German or a French poet as Laureate, would we?" No, we wouldn't. Or, rather, no, they wouldn't.
Fergal, incidentally, would give the job to Simon Armitage, who is "young, accessible (a ghastly word, but you know what I mean) and - to truly delight New Labour - `relevant.' Armitage would be my favourite." Yes, Fergal, but is he any good? And no, I don't know what you mean.
Alternatively, if Tony Blair's office wants someone to symbolise "a new, inclusive Britain, they should look no further than Derek Walcott. He is not a Brit but he does belong to the commonwealth." He also "understands the nature of exclusion". Yes, but is he any good, either?
As for the late Ted Hughes, though his verses for royal occasions were "pleasant but uninspiring", his "real" work "invested the office of Laureate with a craggy nobility. Hughes will cast a long shadow." But not to despair: "To those who say there is no comparable poet in Britain today, I say wait, give it time." Yes, but how much time exactly? And where does that leave Simon Armitage and Derek Walcott?
All very confusing, this poetry business.
Anyway, to put the whole thing in perspective, just ponder the following names: Thomas Shadwell, Nahum Tate, Nicholas Rowe, Laurence Eusden, Colley Cibber, Thomas Warton, Henry James Pye and Alfred Austin.
Yes, in their time they were all deemed poets of such worthiness that the Laureateship was bestowed on them. No wonder Philip Larkin said thanks but no thanks.
SPEAKING of Larkin, I see that the cottage in Haydon Bridge, Northumberland, where he spent holidays with his long-time companion Monica Jones, is up for sale. Larkin obliquely refers to this romantic hideaway in the poem "Show Saturday": "Back now to private addresses, gates and lamps/In high stone one-street villages, empty at dusk . . ."
The cottage is on the market for a modest (by Irish standards, anyway) £44,000, and the price hasn't been influenced by Larkin's association with it. "No, not at all," the local estate agent insisted. He then probably went off and asked who the hell Philip Larkin was.
QUOTE of the week comes from Ed McBain, writer of the terrific 87th Precinct series of crime novels:
"I don't know what I would do if I wrote autobiographical novels like Mailer, Roth and Updike. It was all right when they were young, but now their books reflect the views of cranky old men and they're a pain in the ass."
Born Salvatore Lombino, the 72-year-old McBain, whose forty-ninth (!) 87th Precinct book is published this week and who has written as many other novels under other pseudonyms, has never been guilty of that. His secret? "I promise my readers a good ride . When they pick up one of my books, they're in safe hands. After all this time one thing is certain: I know what I'm doing."
That he does.
OH dear. A few weeks back I misread a biographical entry on Neville Shute and stated that he was born in Norway. This has prompted a letter from Michael Booth of Shankill, who gently observes: "I think Neville Shute's true surname, which was Norway, may have confused you about his origins."
Mr Booth goes on to inform he that Shute was, in fact, born in Ealing and that he spent part of his youth at South Hill in Blackrock, when his father was secretary to the Irish Post Office.
That I never knew, though Mr Booth says it's contained in Shute's autobiography, Slide Rule, along with the story of the airships R100 and R101.
Brendan O'Carroll has just signed a lucrative deal with Penguin in the US, who will be publishing his trilogy of Mrs Brown books: The Mammy, The Chislers and The Granny.
And Anjelica Huston's movie of The Mammy is due for release this May.