Books that made me

Robin Robertson: ‘The poetry

world is polarised. I’m in the
middle, vaguely appalled’
The Man Booker shortlisted writer on his love for
Jane Bowles and biographies, and why he never
gives books as presents
Robin Robertson
Fri 28 Sep 2018

The book I’m currently reading

As always, I have submissions to read (I work in publishing).
When I’m allowed to read for pleasure, it’s usually non-fiction –
or something ancient and Greek.
The book that changed my life
I was brought up within earshot of north-east Scottish dialect,
folklore and music, in what remained of a fishing community
with its oral tradition, superstitions and legends. Tending to the
solitary, I fell naturally towards books and read
indiscriminately. The stories I remember were Scottish folk
tales, the Greek myths (in some hopelessly expurgated edition,
upgraded slowly through the years) and Grimm. As a teenager
I found Mervyn Peake’s Titus books intoxicating, and those
novels, probably, started my passion for fiction, while Yeats and
Hughes and Heaney were making poetry crucial to me. I’m not
sure a book has changed my life, but all great art jolts your
perspective and enlarges your gaze.

The book I wish I’d written

I suppose I’m always trying to write that book (which is the
only way to pay attention, the only way to improve). To have
produced books of the stature of James Joyce’s Ulysses,
or Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry, or David Jones’s In
Parenthesis, without the attendant physical or psychological
damage – that would be an achievement.

The book that influenced my writing

The work of David Jones – not just the poetry and essays, but
the engravings, drawings, watercolours and, particularly, the
painted inscriptions. I hope my admiration for his writing
doesn’t stray into mimicry.

The world of poetry is small and currently

polarised: it’s often either simplistic or
incomprehensible

The book that is most underrated

There are great books that fail to be recognised at the time but
are rediscovered, like John Williams’s Stoner, or novels like
Ulverton or Death and Nightingales that offer a constant
admonitory warning to judges of literary prizes. I wish more
people read Jane Bowles: Two Serious Ladies and Plain
Pleasures are wonderful.

The last book that made me laugh

The books that make me laugh, cry, then smash furniture tend
to be written by people driven by self-promotion and shallow
narcissism; they don’t have time to bother with all that pesky
learning-the-craft business: they want “Likes” on social media
and they’re having strong and important feelings somewhere
near you, right now. The world of poetry is small and currently
polarised: it’s often either simplistic or incomprehensible. I find
myself in the middle, vaguely appalled. I’m allergic to “light
verse”, because it seems a betrayal of the purpose of poetry.
Equally, poetry that sets out to be deliberately opaque is
betraying the purpose of language.

The book I couldn’t finish

I spend my life not finishing books – though they’re mostly
manuscripts rather than books.

The book I’m ashamed not to have read

Being Scottish, I carry enough shame already without needing
the help of books.

My earliest reading memory

I remember sitting in the congregation of King’s College chapel
in Aberdeen, transfixed by my father’s sermon. I was never a
believer, but the power and beauty of his delivery was thrilling.
It was the cadences rather than the creed that moved me, and
I understood then how language could be made to sing.

The book I give as a gift

I almost never give books as presents: it feels rather
presumptuous, or something ...

My comfort read
I feel I’m drifting towards a fondness for biographies, where
one can find comfort in seeing people make a mess of their
lives and the lives of others and still produce art that is
beautiful and lasting.

•  Robin Robertson’s The Long Take (Picador) has been

shortlisted for the Man Booker prize.