That I was read to, as a child, I consider one of the greatest gifts of my life. To experience literature as a voice is almost vital, in my view, to its appreciation. The characters of fiction are living entities whose utterances are not to be consigned to a whispering, internal dialogue or, worse, an abstract account of speech that refers to, but does not render, a real voice. It seems to me that the experience of reading quietly to oneself can never be fully realised unless we have first experienced being read to by another, aloud.
Poetry is no exception, being so often the direct transmission of the author’s intent, and being, as it is, so infused with the periodic cadences of music, which produce sense directly whilst bypassing the contrivance of symbolic meaning. That is to say, tone evokes sensation in ways which do not rely on the semantic qualities of words.
Being like a beachcomber of poems, far more than I am of narrative fiction, I often find pieces I want others to see. I might recommend a novel to someone, only half expecting them to read it, but my wish to share another poet’s work in the manner I experience it feels more realistic. Not only might you willingly pass a couple of minutes with me to do so, but I am also in a position to offer something extra in the bargain – I can read you a poem in something like the voice I imagine for it. The act of sharing feels more complete, somehow.
Because I believe poetry should be uttered, that it should be shared, and because I love both these things, I sometimes make recordings of the pieces I pick up and delight in. These, I place, in public, on the website Audioboo, the social media for sonic interaction. If you enjoy being read to, or perhaps if no one has ever done this for you, come and find me there. Of course, I’m secretly hoping you might read to me, too.
(G J Davies’ own work is to be found at Soundlcloud, whilst his renditions of other poets is here).
