Ellen (Pix) Hart

'Considering in detail ''Bookends I and II'', discuss ways in which Harrison explores memories of
difficult family relationships.'

'Bookends' is a double sonnet taken from Tony Harrison's collection of sonnets,

'The School of Eloquence', which is particularly renowned for analysing the troubled relationship

between himself and his parents and, specifically, the disagreements

shared between them. The poem describes the way Harrison and his father deal with the death of

his mother, and the events following it, focussing mainly on the difficulty of communicating their

emotions.

Presented in meridithean form, each sequence contains sixteen lines, and a volta at the

thirteenth line, which signifies a change in time, i.e. the shift in the first sequence from Harrison's

reflection on the presence of his mother, to “Back in our silences and sullen looks,” which pivots

from the volta: “Your life's all shattered into smithereens.” Bookends I is concerned with passed

times, the memory of Harrison's mother, and the experience of loss: “and she not here to tell us

we're alike!” - this suggests that the relationship between Harrison and his father was nurtured

primarily by his mother's insistence on the two of them being similar. Bookends II deals with the

present; the necessary act of choosing an inscription for a headstone that is already “too full”,

essentially forces Harrison and his father to unite in decision, an event that is so rare, perhaps only

death itself can create it. The extra two syllables squeezed into the second line, in order to

accommodate the name 'Florence', appears slightly clumsy and stumbling, perhaps an effect of the

alcohol - “(I think that both of us we're on our third)” crudely illustrates a unique moment where

both men are equals, and the use of brackets suggests that, at this point, Harrison is contemplating

this revelation. The image of the “tumblers of neat Johnny Walker” portrays to the reader the

imperfect truth – the two men only feel brave enough to explore and develop their relationship with

the support of alcohol. This is perhaps a sign of the particular time period, and the social class in

Leeds that Harrison and his father belonged to; it is a barrier that Harrison himself illustrates in

many of his poems concerning family relationships, including 'A Good Read', in which he frustrates
over the lack of understanding his parents show in poetry and literature, and mocks, “Good read! I

bet! Your programme at United!”

The first sequence contains the extended metaphor, 'Bookends', and draws on the irony that,

as objects, bookends are used in conjunction with one another, as pairs – this relates to Harrison's

recollection of something said by his mother, in lines five-six, where she states: “You're like

bookends, the pair of you.”. Comparing these objects to Harrison and his father highlights a key

motif in this sonnet; although the two men juxtapose each other in class, social status, and moral

value, the presence of two bookends on a shelf is essential for the objects to fulfil their purpose,

although they face in opposite directions; the figurative image of bookends is developed further in

the last stanza of this sequence, where Harrison uses the idea of the books between bookends as a

barrier, constricting the development of the relationship between his father and himself. The line:

“what's still between 's not the thirty or so years, but books books books” plays on his mother's

comparison of the two men to bookends, and illustrates to the reader the significance of education

in the breakdown of the relationship between Harrison and his parents; it is clear from his other

poems, such as 'Breaking the Chain' (in which Harrison breaks the expected tradition of not going

“posh”, and exceeding the limits of “a rung or two up”) and also in 'A Good Read', where Harrison

highlights a particular look from his father, naming it “one of his you-stuck-up-bugger-looks”, that

the memories he has of his parents are those of a constant battle to overcome the barrier created by

knowledge and education, as they “nivver 'ad much time for a good read”. The repetition of

“books”. using the rule-of-three technique, emphasizes the two men's frustration (although for

juxtaposing reasons) and also represents rising tension, from the lack of communication in their

relationship, as it is created, built up and released with each repetition.

Harrison writes the majority of both sequences in direct address to his his father - “A night

you need my company to pass”. This displays poetic irony, as in reality, and certainly in the first

sequence, although there is presence of dialogue from the memory of Harrison's dead mother, no

words pass between the two men. Harrison appears to reflect on things that have passed in anger: “I
thought you could hold my Loiners, and both burn.” He uses language and form to re-enact

memories and meditate on their significance - “You're like bookends, the pair of you, she'd say”,

and this suggests that he wishes he had developed a stronger bond with his parents while they were

still living - “Even cremation can't have dried the eyes that wept for weeks about my 'sordid lust”.

By quoting his mother and father directly - “ah sometimes think you read too many books”,

Harrison uses their dialect as a tribute to their memory, and even adopts their idiolect himself in

“Breaking the Chain”, when he describes how his mother did not want him to “go posh”. Similarly,

in the second sequence, Harrison calls upon the memory of his father's idiolect, “you're supposed to

be the bright boy at description/and you can't tell them what the fuck to put!”, to show the irony in

Harrison' loss of words as a result of his mother's death, even though he has been educated to be far

more articulate than his parents. With reference to the use of the word “scholar” in the first

sequence, flanked by inverted commas, it is evident that Harrison's father did not approve of his

son's choice of profession; we learn from “Breaking the Chain” that his father wanted and expected

his son to work in “the drawing office...same place of work, but blue-collar, not white”.

The rare unification symbolised by the image of the consumption of “that last apple pie” in

'Bookends I' juxtaposes the following line: “we could never talk much and now don't try.” and

suggests that in the loss of Harrison's mother, the two lost the incentive to communicate. Harrison

implies that only his mother saw the connection between his father and himself, as he undermines

her comment in the eighth line of the first sequence, using the single word “seem” to convey his

disagreement. However, in 'Bookends II', it becomes apparent that in the process of preparing the

headstone for her grave, the two men become united in their task, and lose their inhibitions

somewhat. The two sequences are structured to juxtapose each other – whereas in the fourth line of

the first sequence, father and son are completely disconnected and “don't try” to converse, the

fourth line of the second sequence is in actual fact dialogue, and this signifies the development in

the relationship.

It is in the final stanza of the sonnet, “Bookends” that Harrison conveys to the reader, for
the first time, a sense of admiration for his father. The motif of the envelope he still holds on to,

containing his father's words for his mother's headstone, the sentiment “misspelt, mawkish,

stylistically appalling”, conveys to the reader it's importance in the memory of his parents and in

particular, his father. He contrasts his criticism of his father's words with the simple fact that he

cannot find fault with what has been written. Ironically, his father's pitiful attempt at constructing a

concise yet affectionate message becomes invaluable.

“Bookends” by Tony Harrison tackles head-on the issues that constrain the development of

his relationship with his father. Through the death of his mother, Harrison learned that although it is

beneficial to educate oneself, there is no substitute for the family ties that bind us to the ones we

love unconditionally, even with the presence of social and intellectual barriers.

Bibliography

• Tony Harrison – “Selected Poems”

Bookends – Tony Harrison

Baked the day she suddenly dropped dead

we chew it slowly that last apple pie.

Shocked into sleeplessness you're scared of bed.

We never could talk much, and now don't try.

You're like book ends, the pair of you, she'd say,

Hog that grate, say nothing, sit, sleep, stare…

The 'scholar' me, you, worn out on poor pay,

only our silence made us seem a pair.

Not as good for staring in, blue gas,

too regular each bud, each yellow spike.

At night you need my company to pass

and she not here to tell us we're alike!

You're life's all shattered into smithereens.

Back in our silences and sullen looks,

for all the Scotch we drink, what's still between 's
not the thirty or so years, but books, books, books.

II

The stone's too full. The wording must be terse.

There's scarcely room to carve the FLORENCE on it--

Come on, it's not as if we're wanting verse.

It's not as if we're wanting a whole sonnet!

After tumblers of neat Johnny Walker

(I think that both of us we're on our third)
you said you'd always been a clumsy talker
and couldn't find another, shorter word
for 'beloved' or for 'wife' in the inscription,
but not too clumsy that you can't still cut:

You're supposed to be the bright boy at description

and you can't tell them what the fuck to put!

I've got to find the right words on my own.

I've got the envelope that he'd been scrawling,

mis-spelt, mawkish, stylistically appalling
but I can't squeeze more love into their stone.