by Dick Edelstein
When an overdose of reading the news causes the horrors of today’s global politics to hit my psyche like a flurry of blows in a boxing ring, attending a poetry event can remind me of the value of life’s small pleasures and reaffirm my faith in the good intentions of at least some parts of humanity.
Recently I attended the Sunflower Sessions, a poetry reading held regularly in Dublin that enjoys a certain status among local poetry buffs. Its organizers make a concerted effort to maintain the reputation and continuity of the readings, taking their responsibility to heart as a sort of sacred trust. This sentiment was reflected by quite a few of the people who read their poetry that night when they used part of their reading time to thank the organizers of the event for their conscientious efforts.
Twenty years is a long time for a regular poetry event to persist and the three Dubliners of long experience who organize it are only too conscious of the pitfalls. Success depends on constantly attracting new participants while retaining the interest of poets and spectators who have already attended many times. Also, there is the precariousness of having to depend on the generosity of pub owners or managers to provide a free venue. Master of ceremonies Declan McLoughlin, while promoting FLARE, the quarterly poetry magazine associated with the event, admonished his audience, “If you only have enough money to buy the magazine or a pint, then get the pint because since COVID it’s become nearly impossible to find a free venue.”
The success of this venture can teach us a few things about the appeal of poetry reading in an age where the mass media strongly compete and generational change drives cultural preferences. Although these sessions are popular among poets who have passed into middle age and beyond, the organizers make an effort to appeal to the younger generations, making it clear that the door is wide open to them and to participants from all parts of Dublin society, including those whose native language is not English. While this is not an easy task, their efforts continue to prosper as they manage to bring together poets and listeners from different social groups and generations. In the face of these challenges, keeping the reading series going is like cultivating a delicate flower.
The readings take place on the last Thursday of every month in a room on the third floor of the Lord Edward pub in central Dublin, located beside Dublin Castle just south of the Liffey. The Sunflower Sessions have their own particular history and represent the continuity of The Last Wednesdays open mic sessions which preceded them.
The original series of readings was organized by Sarah Sunflower Lundberg, who died several years ago. She also founded the Seven Towers publishing company with the help of poet Ross Hattaway, who continues to be one of the organizers of the poetry readings. The two ventures were part of a joint effort undertaken to provide publishing opportunities and a supportive atmosphere for accomplished writers as well as for people who wanted to develop as writers.
Although the Sunflower Sessions resemble many other poetry readings that take place throughout Ireland, it is instructive to look at how the organizers have tweaked some common practices to ensure that the readings continue to support their friend’s original mission of providing a safe space for people from every sort of background and poets with every level of accomplishment to share their writing in a spirit of openness and equality.
As is typical in many other readings held throughout Ireland, there is a palpable spirit of camaraderie and mutual support. Breaks between sections of the reading are occasions for discussions among old friends and allow newcomers to get acquainted with the regulars. It is not unusual for novices to hear compliments about their verse from experienced writers, and this gives a great boost to their self confidence and sense of belonging. The shared experience makes it easier for people to talk to each other.
Since I have just mentioned that these sessions embody the particular aims of the current organizers and that these are achieved by the format of the reading, I expect that readers will be wondering what that format is and whether it really works. The aim is to provide a supportive space for the participants, a forum where writers can share their own work and listen to others, mixing experienced poets and those with less experience. But will the audience really enjoy listening to poems by accomplished writers intermixed with readings by novices? The organizers have given much thought to the question and have found workable solutions that are surprisingly successful.
What distinguishes the Sunflower Sessions from many other poetry readings is that there are no featured readers. Instead of having one or more invited poets, followed by the usual open mic session, in these sessions each reader gets a four-minute slot and this is rigorously timed. A ten minute break between each group of 5 or 6 readers provides time for conversation and an opportunity for people to slip down to the bar on the second floor to replenish their drinks.
Éamon Mag Uidhir, one of the organizers, commented to me that FLARE, the quarterly publication dedicated exclusively to the poets heard at the sessions, has become the superstar on launch nights, attracting more participants than the occasional appearance of particularly well known poets used to do.
The respect that readers and the audience have for each other is noticeable. Although many of the poets who read may have had their work widely published, the format of the Sunflower Sessions is egalitarian and so is the attitude to the participants. Because of the format, it is easy to listen to what each person has to say. Participants are not competing and everyone is attentive to the poems presented by all the poets.
One of the things that struck me about the reading was the way that the audience enjoyed and responded to each reader. But what about the novices? There was a noticeable absence of bad poetry. Why is that? I think it was because all the poets felt able to be themselves, to be vulnerable and to express their meaning and that message was received by the audience. Generally, to write a bad poem, a writer needs to attempt some technical challenge that they are unable to achieve, tossing aside the focus on getting their meaning across. If the inexperienced poet manages to convey his or her meaning regardless of their tentative grasp of the formal elements of the poem, they usually manage to communicate with the audience and their attempt will be recognized by warm applause. Their struggle with eloquence despite a lack of skills will even be rewarded with an extra quantum of applause.
But does this format of mixing the sublime with the merely intentional detract from the high artistic aims of practiced poets? The Sunflower Sessions show us that it does not. In fact, the organizers mix the order of presentation so the there are strong poets reading right to the end, which is around 10.30. In this format the attendees cheerfully sit through a session lasting nearly three hours. Compare this with readings by a single poet, which rarely last much longer than 20 minutes.
So what was the takeaway of the session I attended? Attendees remarked on many of the poems, discussing them among themselves. I particularly noticed remarks on the poems of novices or people not generally known to the regulars. And they were positive. Imagine a group of people who had serious reputations praising the efforts of novices—and without being prompted. The novices had managed to connect to the audience of sophisticated poetry lovers. Imagine that! And imagine their pride in cases where somebody remarked on their poetry or offered congratulations.
The participants all had different approaches to poetry and different backgrounds and interests, but they managed to come together over their love for poetry and their dedication to a communal and supportive atmosphere. The topic of Palestine came up when one poet used part of her time slot to read a poem by Geraldine Mills referring to Gaza. Some poems were comic, others were about beauty and many dealt with loneliness, aging and even oppression. No subjects or styles were off the table or dismissed out of hand because the audience was seriously interested in the views and expression of all the participants. This made me think that in a small way we can help defend freedom of thought and expression by beginning to listen to one another.