Andrew Philip’s The North End of the Possible

© Image by Thomas Ritchie

© Image by Thomas Ritchie

 
 
 
Andrew Philip was born in Aberdeen in 1975 and grew up near Falkirk. His first full collection of poetry, The Ambulance Box (Salt, 2009), was shortlisted for the Aldeburgh First Collection Prize, the Seamus Heaney Centre Prize for Poetry and in the Scottish Book Awards. His work has been published in the United Kingdom, the United States of America and Ireland, translated into Italian and included in anthologies such as The Forward Book of Poetry 2010, The Best British Poetry 2011 and Adventures in Form. He is poetry editor at Freight Books, Scots language editor at Irish Pages and a popular online tutor for the Poetry School.
 
 
 
 
The North End of the Possible 
 
 
 
“How do isolation, belonging and the land shape us? What difference does this make to how we live? Andrew Philip’s second collection delves deep into these and other questions.
 
In the opening and closing portions of the book, Philip takes us further into the life of MacAdam — an enigmatic character from his multi-award nominated debut, The Ambulance Box. MacAdam, who seems to have built a version of the Large Hadron Collider in his garden shed, attempts to find “the fundamental particle of night”. We follow him into the chaos that results, as his experiments run out of control, culminating in a powerful encounter with a mysterious intruder.
 
The middle of the collection brings us poems of place, love and politics. A newsreader’s BBC English transmogrifies into Scots without her realising. Edinburgh’s worst piper is lambasted in a rollicking Burns pastiche that led novelist Rodge Glass to dub Philip his “new favourite poet”. And an intricate, tender sequence charts the highs and lows of a decade of marriage.
 
Rich in humour, imaginative reach and formal invention, The North End of the Possible displays a fresh strength in narrative writing for Philip and pushes his lyric gifts to new heights.”
 
 
 
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“Andrew Philip has great formal skill, high ambition, and a lyric voice strong and supple enough to explore scientific and theological ideas, and to make tender and beautiful love poems. The promise he showed in The Ambulance Box is amply delivered in The North End of the Possible.”
 
– Michael Symmons Roberts
 
 
 
“This is a real gem of a collection – it’s witty, wide-ranging, deft, funny, adroit and moving, but most of all, wonderfully, wonderfully readable. A book that takes us straight to the heart of the matter, and the matter of the heart. Paul Farley described the great poem as a ‘page stopper’ and with Philip’s The North End of the Possible I constantly found myself going back to read through poems again for the sheer enjoyment of their craftsmanship and music.”
 
– John Glenday
 
 
 
“Craving to show anger turned into comedy, love wry and without vanity, and pain that shan’t lead to anger or bitterness, Philip describes this world; as if were a trial, at times in desperation for the next. A daily round, chancing (without control of the process), sometimes on the between spaces – of banter, longing for the departed, and hallucinatory language play.”
 
– Ira Lightman
 
 
 
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A Child’s Garden of Physics (1)
 
 
Trauchled by the paraphernalia
of a life spent tinkering
— the long stands, the mundae hammers —
MacAdam settles
 
to cobbling light apart
into constituent darknesses:
pit mirk, pick mirk, part mirk, heart mirk.
Even so, there’s hardly
 
enough mirk in this world
to account for the breadth of black
he thinks must lie
at the core of everything.
 
And here it is, nestling
in the pleasant land of Counterfact,
spreading as the sun droops:
the fundamental particle of night.
 
It shades in/out of being
the way MacAdam does when not
observing himself at a distance,
his anchor ego flowing
 
through various queerlike states
akin to the nocton’s flavours:
still, thrang, change, dread,
silent and sudden. The quirks
 
the hour has flung at him
gather in the corner of his shed.
Now, armed with the tools
to measure the mirk aright,
 
he can take to the streets
to ascertain precisely what
the afterlight is made of — this
could be his service to us all.
 
 
 
*
 
 
 
MacAdam Takes to the Sea
 
 
Unhooked from its tenter, the sea drifts off
to arrive at a new understanding
with the earth
                         while MacAdam, wearied
and clean out of Red Bull,
                                     walks to the edge
of the land he’s always called home.
 
Pure force of habit, that locution:
                                                 he has come
to feel more at home on the move these days —
on the move and in the dark.
 
                                                      Aye, but there’s dark
and dark the dawn has marvelled at.
It’s hidden from him yet, but MacAdam
must drive through such a gloom
to witness how
                         lightly the morning rises from its knees.
For now,
               we leave him wading
waist deep into the loosened waves.
 
 
 
*
 
 
 
The Melody at Night, With You
ECM 1675
 
 
Snow bound and determined to break
out of the silence enforced by chronic fatigue,
Jarrett is at his piano again — the first time
in let’s not contemplate how long for a man
as given to his art as this — stripping
the music back to all that ever mattered,
taking it to heart the way you’d want
her to take what you know most sparing:
your softest, most unguarded speech and touch —
no smoke, no mirrors, no sleight of hand,
no firecracker runs or full-voltage solo virtuosics:
just the tune; the tune and Christmas coming.
A moment to warm the fingers. Press RECORD.
 
 
 
*
 
 
 
Cheer Friend of Both
An abnominal for Dietrich Bonhoeffer
 
 
Thorn in the Reich, be the torch
for the terrified bride
 
of the torn Herrn. Interned,
confined, be free in the other
 
hidden Reich, the one eterne.
If the dirt of the Hof be
 
bitter herb, bete doch
“For thine be —.”

  
Ich hoffe not trite: no richer effort
to render the terror inert. Brief
 
the trot to Tod. Therefore, brother,
be fortified, cheered, enriched.
 
Deride the thin, horrid, inferior credo
ordered. Be interior hobo, freed
 
to intent. Tend the bidden boon.
If it be no Hilfe, do not ochone;
 
ochone for the Eiche, the Erde,
the bent Hirte. No introit intoned, be
 
the Brot bitten: be rid of, interred.
Thorn in the Reich, be reborn.
 
 
 
 
from The North End of the Possible (Salt Publishing, 2013).
 
Order The North End of the Possible.
 
Visit Andrew’s website.
 
Read the Scots glossary for The North End of the Possible
 
Read Colin Begg’s review at The List
 
 
 
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One thought on “Andrew Philip’s The North End of the Possible

  1. Pingback: Peony Moonrise in the North | Website and blog of the Scottish poet Andrew Philip

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