Green, Red, Gold by William Radice

Green, Red, Gold by William Radice by William Radice

Availability: Available for immediate despatch
Title: Green, Red, Gold
Author:William Radice
Publisher: Flambard Press
Format: Paperback
Pages: 64
Price: £7.00
ISBN: 978-1-873226-78-0
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Synopsis

Green, Red, Gold by William Radice

• A highly original take on the eternal triangle

• A rich tapestry of sensuous imagery and complex symbolism

• An exploration and celebration of love in all its variety

Green, Red, Gold is a novel in 101 sonnets that oscillates between page-turning realism and haunting poetic
symbolism. Charting the genesis, acceleration,
fragmentation and resolution of a love-affair with a power
and spontaneity rare in the sonnet form, its constantly
varying emotions and rhythms range from St Cuthbert
and the Lindisfarne Gospels to the love of Abelard and
Heloise; from Northumberland to London and back;
from pantomime to prime numbers; from the trauma
of adulterous passion to marriage and parenthood’s
accumulated love and experience. Woven into this story
are precise symbolic threads: sea and land; forest and
home; disguise and nakedness; Ariel and Cordelia; spirit
(green) tangling with world (red) to achieve a balance of
the two (gold). Connecting also with the wider dangers
of basing moral and political decisions on spiritual
promptings, the sequence arrives – with a momentum
both intimate and symphonic – at the realisation that
‘morality’s a human matter’, inseparable from reason and compassion.

William Radice was born in London in 1951, studied
English at Oxford, but then became a specialist in
Bengali. Known particularly for his translations of the
poems and stories of Rabindranath Tagore, he emerged
as a poet in his own right in the 1970s and 1980s with
his books Eight Sections, Strivings and Louring Skies.
In 1991 he made Northumberland his main home, and
Gifts: Poems 1992–1999 was published in Newcastle
upon Tyne. He has contributed regularly to BBC Radio
2’s Pause for Thought, and has worked in opera, writing the libretto for Snatched by the Gods by Param Vir and translating Puccini’s Turandot for ENO. He teaches Bengali at SOAS in London, gives lectures worldwide, writes poetry in the North-East.

Reviews of Green, Red, Gold


*****28 December 2005
Reviewer:Andy Croft
Publication:Morning Star
 

A kind of novel, the story of an illicit love affair told in 101 sonnets, GREEN, RED, GOLD is an ambitious and sustained achievement. Writing one sonnet is difficult enough for most poets. Many of these sonnets are beautifully done, light and musical, moving towards their
deft and neat concluding couplets.

Andy Croft

 
****10 October 2005
World of Books
 
Reviewer:A N Wilson
Publication:Daily Telegraph
 

Two stunning new books of poetry have been published this year. One is a sonnet sequence telling the story of a near-adultery, a saved marriage, and a marvellous disquisition on the nature of love, sacred and profane.

The other is a witty trilogy - in conventional metrical verse, ottava rima and rhyme royal - on, respectively, the Queen's Jubilee, the art of translation, and a visit to Chartres Cathedral with a wife, a mistress and a muse.

Both of these brilliant books are by the same person. Here is a poet who actually has something to write about, who has been honing his craft for more than quarter of a century of grown-up life - he's in his mid-fifties - and who is on top form. Yet, mysteriously, the author is not famous as a poet at all, even though at his best he is as good as Auden.

His name is William Radice, who is well known as a translator of Tagore. He is a noted Bengali scholar and he lectures in that language at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. He also translates opera libretti - he wrote the 1995 Turandot for the ENO. He has written more than 30 books. I have been following his poetry ever since Oxford days, and although he was always a clever writer, there was a costive feeling to some of the early verse. These two new books, however, are a pair of absolute stunners.

The trilogy was published by Writers Garden, 162 Lake Gardens, Kolkata (Calcutta). It is called This Theatre Royal. It is a retelling in rhyme royal of the Book of Jonah; only the prophet is not sent to Nineveh - he is sent to Windsor to denounce its wickedness, the selfishness and greed of the Royal Family.

It begins: "Dear Queen Elizabeth, I've pondered long/ About this tribute to your Jubilee." The tone, affectionate and not disrespectful, seems exactly right. I don't think any Poet Laureate has got the tone right in addressing the monarch. "Dear Queen: hence the restrained form of address/ I've used for you - a careful compromise/ Between obsequiousness and chattiness."

He "expresses candidly/ Ambivalence that even you [the Queen] must feel ", and he ends up by addressing the Prince of Wales, likening his poems to red-bloomed runner beans climbing up canes. "To soothe your pains - /Your mother's too - they'll celebrate your time/ With (pure organic!) Produce from the prime/ Years of my life."

Without being either silly or sycophantic, the poem is a wonderful celebration of why one values a constitutional monarchy. "There's glory/ In sheer continuation of a line./ The bottle's more important than the wine." Isn't that good?

Faith and the conflicts of sacred and profane love heighten the tension in the fascinating relationships unfolded in Radice's verse-novel sonnet sequence Green, Red, Gold (Flambard Press). The lady he loves, and who clearly wishes to love him fully, is an Irish Catholic. The wife is an agnostic. He (unlike an evangelical brother who is mentioned more than once in the poems) is a wishy-washy, with a love of the Northumbrian saints.

There are marvellous evocations of Lindisfarne and the coastline up there as the romance begins, and hits the rocks. I was really moved by this story. I keep remembering it, and thinking I've read a fat full-length novel. The whole story is ingeniously crammed into 101 short poems.

Andrew Motion said he would stay only 10 years as Laureate. Radice would do the job marvellously, but has probably not sat on enough Arts Council committees or sucked up to enough public figures to have a hope of being chosen.

A N Wilson

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