Brexit and identity
passport. I’m tempted to call myself
‘European’ but that only invites the
response ‘Where in Europe?’ It’s natural
to wonder where people come from but
to ask is a loaded question. There are
people living in the UK who fear they’ll
be discriminated against if they admit to
having begun life elsewhere, just as there
are countries where – because of Empire,
or complicity with the US, or bombs that
have been dropped – it pays not to say
you’re British.
In the dreams of elsewhere I had as
a teenager, none of this was going to
happen. We would all be trans – transna-
tional, that is: fluid, pluralistic, opposed
to borders, indifferent to difference. How
naïve that seems, now that territorial
affiliations have hardened and borders
are more strictly patrolled.
p
Still, there remains a way to roam
freely: in books. It’s how I found my
way as a teenager and I’m keeping the
faith. ‘Poetry makes nothing happen,’
Auden said, a line that most readers of
his poetry would dispute: after 9/11 New
Yorkers found solace in the ‘affirm-
ing flame’ of his poem ‘September 1st
1939’, and many of those experiencing
bereavement have taken comfort from
his ‘Funeral Blues’, all the more so since
it featured in the film Four Weddings and
a Funeral. The mistake – my mistake
- has been to ask too much of poetry
(and of literature overall): to expect it to
make things happen externally, in poli-
tics, rather than internally, through the
subtle and inevitably slower process of
shaping ideas. The world hasn’t opened
up as we hoped it would, but literature
remains a repository of values. It teaches
us that others aren’t Other and helps us
to understand ourselves.
In his essay ‘The Few and the Many’,
Octavio Paz considers the limited audi-
ence for poetry: does it matter that even
great poets like Baudelaire and Whitman
sold so few copies of their work?^4 No, he
decides: poetry of real merit will even-
tually find its way through to reach a
sizeable audience. For poetry in particu-
lar, read literature in general. Quoting
Juan Ramon Jimenez, Paz speaks of ‘the
immense minority’. It’s a lovely phrase
and consoling reminder that minorities
can be massive, from those who read
Auden to those who voted Remain in the
2016 referendum. In these bleak times, of
Trump and Brexit, of fascistic resurgence
and environmental crisis, it’s easy to feel
isolated and helpless. But, as literature
reminds us, we are not alone. O
THIS IS ONE OF 15 ESSAYS IN BRAVE NEW WORDS:
THE POWER OF WRITING NOW (MYRIAD EDITIONS,
£9.99), PUBLISHED ON 9 NOVEMBER. TO GET A COPY,
VISIT: ETHICALSHOP.ORG
BLAKE MORRISON WAS BORN IN SKIPTON,
YORKSHIRE, AND HAS WRITTEN FICTION, POETRY,
JOURNALISM, LITERARY CRITICISM AND LIBRETTI,
AS WELL AS ADAPTING PLAYS FOR THE STAGE.
AMONG HIS BEST-KNOWN WORKS ARE HIS TWO
MEMOIRS, AND WHEN DID YOU LAST SEE YOUR
FATHER? (1993) AND THINGS MY MOTHER NEVER
TOLD ME (2002). HE IS A FELLOW OF THE ROYAL
SOCIETY OF LITERATURE, FORMER CHAIR OF THE
POETRY BOOK SOCIETY AND VICE-CHAIR OF PEN. HE
IS ALSO PROFESSOR OF CREATIVE AND LIFE WRITING
AT GOLDSMITHS COLLEGE. HIS LATEST BOOK IS A
NOVEL WITH POEMS, THE EXECUTOR (2018).
1 Octavio Paz, The Other Voice (Carcanet, 1992).
2 James Kelman, Some Recent Attacks:
Essays Cultural and Political (AK Press, 1992).
3 Salman Rushdie, ‘A General Election’, in Imaginary
Homelands (Vintage, 2010). 4 Octavio Paz, op cit.
71
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