Cultural References

Some stories and poems are packed with them. The classic examples is ‘The Day Lady Died’ by Frank O’Hara, which mentions buying a copies of New World Writing and The New York Post, a book by Verlaine, a carton of Picayunes (whatever they are), a bottle of Strega (that Italian liqueur), a pack of Gauloises, and a concert by Mal Waldron. Phew! (The poem is also specific about location, but that, as my tutor Bernard Tschumi used to say, is another conversation.) Other poets, however, though they may be specific about location, never include references to products, publications, performances, or politics. Wallace Stevens is a good example. I always wonder whether I should use more. David Morley set a workshop exercise to use references like O’Hara’s, and I managed Flash, Sifta salt, Brasso, Mrs Mopp, the overture from Carmen, and ‘Enjoy Yourself it’s later than you think.’ All very dated, but the poem was addressed to my mother. Recently I’ve managed references to T.K.Maxx in one (or rather T.J.Maxx because the poem appeared in America), Drive and Shine and the Swedish list (in fact Gudrun Sjödén) in another, and a novel set in Maine and a Bunsen burner in a third. It's not a lot, is it? Let’s compare ‘The Red Dress’ from the excellent story collection Attention Seekers by Emma Brankin. It includes Hamilton (the musical), an Uber, The Aristocats, the Emmys, Spice Girls dolls, and DKNY. It would be a mistake for me to try to imitate all that. I have to console myself with my many references in stories to specific or barely disguised placesthe subject of another blog. One I’d like to mention here, though, is in my prizewinning story ‘Whiskey and Halva’. The settingnot specified in the storyis Khartoum, and the manhole cover bore the words (again not specified) Needham, Stockport. On a final note, I remember the thrill (for such it was) when in Berlin, high up on an old building, I saw the words Kapp and Petersen. A brand of tobacco pipe mentioned in Waiting for Godot! And another occasiona shock rather than a thrillwas in Grand Central Station in New York City. As teenagers friends and I enjoyed a song with the lyrics ‘We’ll drink-a-drink-a-drink to Lydia Pink-a-pink-a-pink, saviour of the human ra-a-ace . . .’ (Recorded later by The Scaffold as ‘Lily the Pink’why Lily?) Imagine my amazement when I saw in the window of a kiosk a bottle labelled Lydia E. Pinkham’s medicinal compound. All that time it had been real!