Viewport width =
July 17, 2006 | by  | in Books |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

my favourite my favourite writer… Fleur Adcock (1934- )

Ever since memorizing ‘The Chiffonier’ for a speech and drama exam I’ve respected Adcock. Born in Papakura, the sister of writer Marilyn Duckworth. Educated in Britain and New Zealand, married to the poet Alistair Campbell and, later, to the infamous Barry Crump, she has had an undeniably eventful life.

After several decades of consistently powerful writing, and three years’ drought (while giving up smoking), Adcock has recently been awarded the Queen’s Gold Medal for poetry. Her work ranges from the cutting wit of ‘Smokers for Celibacy’ to the chilling science fiction poem ‘Gas’, to the famously direct ‘Against Coupling’. Not concerned with visually experimental poetry, Adcock’s writing reveals its strength in her skilful control of rhythm, rhyme and stanza, her clever use of observation, and her famous knack of capturing the anti-erotic in everyday relationships.

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Salient is a magazine. Salient is a website. Salient is an institution founded in 1938 to cater to the whim and fancy of students of Victoria University. We are partly funded by VUWSA and partly by gold bullion that was discovered under a pile of old Salients from the 40's. Salient welcomes your participation in debate on all the issues that we present to you, and if you're a student of Victoria University then you're more than welcome to drop in and have tea and scones with the contributors of this little rag in our little hideaway that overlooks Wellington.

Comments (1)

Trackback URL / Comments RSS Feed

  1. annie thanjan says:

    i read the poem ‘the chiffonier ‘ without knowing who wrote it. by the time i reached the last stanza i had a catch in my throat and by the time i read the last 2 lines my eyes were brimming over with tears. it tuged my heart strings unlike any other poem.

    dispite the seemingly informal conversational tone of the poem its rhyme and metre together with the memory and experience of womenkind does what many poems are unable to do – that is to share what most women will feel.

Recent posts

  1. Cuttin’ it with with Miss June
  2. SWAT
  3. Ravished by the Living Embodiment of All Our University Woes
  4. New Zealand’s First Rainbow Crossing is Here (and Queer)
  5. Chloe Has a Yarn About Mental Health
  6. “Stick with Vic” Makes “Insulting” and “Upsetting” Comments
  7. Presidential Address
  8. Final Review
  9. Tears Fall, and Sea Levels Rise
  10. It’s Fall in my Heart

Editor's Pick

This Ain’t a Scene it’s a Goddamned Arm Wrestle

: Interior – Industrial Soviet Beerhall – Night It was late November and cold as hell when I stumbled into the Zhiguli Beer Hall. I was in Moscow, about to take the trans-Mongolian rail line to Beijing, and after finding someone in my hostel who could speak English, had decided