Tuesday Poem: Ursula Le Guin's acceptance speech for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters

This carefully crafted piece may not be everyone's idea of a poem, but I believe it is, it is rebellious, hopeful, generous, and inimicable.  So without more ado - Ursula Le Guin's acceptance speech for the National Book Foundation's Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. The transcript is below - but hearing it - that is the thing.

"Thank you Neil, and to the givers of this beautiful reward, my thanks from the heart. My family, my agent, editors, know that my being here is their doing as well as mine, and that the beautiful reward is theirs as much as mine. And I rejoice at accepting it for, and sharing it with, all the writers who were excluded from literature for so long, my fellow authors of fantasy and science fiction—writers of the imagination, who for the last 50 years watched the beautiful rewards go to the so-called realists.

I think hard times are coming when we will be wanting the voices of writers who can see alternatives to how we live now, and can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies to other ways of being - and even imagine some real grounds for hope. We will need writers who can remember freedom. Poets, visionaries - the realists of a larger reality.

Right now I think we need writers who know the difference between the production of a market commodity and the practice of an art. Developing written material to suit sales strategies in order to maximize corporate profit and advertising revenue is not quite the same thing as responsible book publishing or authorship. (Thank you, brave applauders.) Yet I see sales departments given control over editorial, I see my own publishers in a silly panic of ignorance and greed, charging public libraries for an ebook six or seven times more than they charge customers. We just saw a profiteer try to punish a publisher for disobedience and writers threatened by corporate fatwa, and I see a lot of us, the producers who write the books, and make the books, accepting this. Letting commodity profiteers sell us like deodorant, and tell us what to publish and what to write. Well... [I love you, Ursula!]  (I love you too, darling.) ...books, you know, they’re not just commodities. The profit motive often is in conflict with the aims of art. We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable - so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art - the art of words.

I have had a long career and a good one. In good company. Now here, at the end of it, I really don’t want to watch American literature get sold down the river. We who live by writing and publishing want, and should demand, our fair share of the proceeds. But the name of our beautiful reward is not profit. Its name is freedom.

Thank you.

Have a great week - and for more poetry the Tuesday Poem hub is always full of surprises.

Authors and Poets

Busy week, there's lots to do in the build up to Christmas - there's the obligatory making of Christmas Cakes and scramble to tidy the house and the garden, not to mention all those social event -  books, writing, books and more books - in my case ;)   

And like most people these days I'm also working - although some of it is fun -  Rona Gallery is putting on "The Santa Trap" (One of Peter Friend's and my School Journal Plays) for Christmas.   Not to mention the Christmas exhibition itself - and all the advertising.... so

So for a change I'm putting up about twenty favourite authors -  and in as few words as possible why they are so fab.  Feel free to contribute, I'm sure I've missed more than a few!

JRR Tolkein 

       for historical fiction that went the extra mythological mile

John Wyndham

        for disconcerting and surprising children     

A A Milne

         a bear however hard he tries grows tubby without exercise, 

         he gets what exercise he can by falling off the ottoman --

         and yet other authors seem to lack a certain good willed knack

         of finding love in little things, in toys and chairs - and crackpot kings.

Frances Hardinger

           the newest inductee.  Not for the prizewinning "Fly by Night,"

           but the bottomless well that is Verdigris Deep

C. J. Cherryh

          Down Below Station -  Enough said

Andre Norton

          The lady of science fiction herself   

Helen Cresswell

           There was winter, and there was birds --

            but I although I read the same words I could never read the same story twice

Roald Dahl

           Danny the Champion of the World, not to mention an abiding love of chocolate.

CS Lewis

          For opening the wardrobe door.

Terry Pratchett

           for raising a smile, and adding footnotes.

E.B White

          Thankyou for Charlotte, and your even more endearing mute swansong.

Diana Wynne Jones

           Ged

Mary Norton

           For making little people big.

Astrid Lindgren

          Two strong arms, plaits and an indomitable personality. 

Ursula K Le Guin

           Ged - and  more recently the little known Lavinia. 

Lewis Carrol

          A glimpse into madness,

Maurice Sendak

            One night Max made mischief - and the rest is history involving a boat and some very cute monsters.

Dr Seuss

           And the song of the swomee-swans rang out in space

Douglas Adams (both really I guess, but this one in particular) 

          Got towel - can travel. Don't panic.     

HG Wells

          For travelling back in time to get there first.

I hope you enjoy these authors as much as I do,
A.J. Ponder

A.J. Ponder's work is available through Rona Gallery, Amazon, and good Wellington bookstores

My very popular, Wizard's Guide to Wellington on my author webiste.