Although I will not be chucking out my beloved old editions of the works of my second favourite poet (my first is Philip Larkin) just yet – the house will have to look like it’s auditioning for a Channel 4 documentary about hoarding before that happens – I am nevertheless completely thrilled to be in possession of Faber’s new Collected Poems & Drawings of Stevie Smith. Its editor, Will May, has included such a good selection of previously uncollected and even unpublished poems, most of which seem to me to be as savage and as true as any she ever wrote. I’m especially taken with Marriage I Think (“Marriage I Think/ For women/ Is the best of opiates”), whose subject is – here’s the twist – a lonely spinster. For all that she never married herself, preferring life with her Lion Aunt, no one writes more lucidly than Smith of men and women and the perilous, compromised ground that lies between them.
But I’m not going to go on about the poems here. This edition, by including the word “drawings” in its title, insists that the reader spends time looking properly at the poet’s illustrations. This is a good thing. When I first fell for Smith as a teenager – I could hardly believe, then, that writing so jagged and so crazily enjoyable counted as literature – my eyes used to skate over her drawings; I considered them afterthoughts, trivial and a bit distracting. (I was much too earnest, then.) But now I see how very good they are, how swiftly they do their work. Mostly, they’re of people. Some of these figures, manic and capering, come with a touch of voodoo. Others, especially those that incorporate animals and elaborate hats, are more tender. (I love the bizarre little sketch that accompanies the poem O Pug!) Either way, I think this might just be a book you will want to find under the tree come Christmas time, whether you are a fan of Smith’s already, or just want to try her out for size.
The Collected Poems & Drawings of Stevie Smith is published by Faber (£35). Click here to order it for £28
