First published in CAKE Magazine, Summer 2012 Cherry Bakewell Issue
Review: Tippoo Sultan’s
Incredible White Man Eating Tiger Toy Machine!!! by Daljit Nagra (Published
by Faber, 2011). Review and Interview by Faye Lipson.
Daljit Nagra requires scant introduction. His rapid ascendancy to the Forward Prize in 2007, and international acclaim which followed, began just 4 years previously with the release of his first pamphlet- itself a winner of the prestigious Poetry Business competition. The collection which was to follow, Look We Have Coming To Dover! , garnered attention for its exuberance and linguistic playfulness in addressing the theme of British immigrant identity. This, (and the tendency to give his collections quite eccentric names), are characteristics which have persisted in his new collection, Tippoo Sultan’s Incredible White Man Eating Tiger Toy Machine!!! .
The book picks up where Dover left off in examining the postcolonial themes of ‘Britishness’ and the effect of the empire, and subsequent partition, on Anglo-Indian identity. Nagra often explores these ideas through the creation of remarkably rich and compelling ideolects for his poetic characters, which combine inventive Sikhisms like ‘sweet as ladoos’ with the earthiness of a Yorkshire accent. In ‘Raju t’Wonder Dog!’, one stanza alone manages to marry Morrisons and reincarnation, Hindu gods and shoplifting with a seamlessness which can only be attributed to his capacious linguistic imagination.
In ‘The Ascent of a Victorian Woman’, we are given the reverse of the colonial coin, as we follow the Indian progress of a haughty colonist drawn along by 2 bullocks. The image would provide ample humour for the reader, if not tainted by her contempt for the ‘shrivelled’ natives. Her description of the Hindu culture, ‘once the cradle of civilisation’ as ‘fallen into parody’ displays Nagra’s wit in parodying the arrogance of Victorian culture, itself once the supposed cradle of civilisation. Cultures, this collection reminds us, are as mortal as those who live within them, and equally complex, contradictory and heterogeneous. It brings us to wondering what generations of future poets will make, in hindsight, of our current times and mores.
Fatherhood is one of the more surprising, intimate turns this collection takes in its exploration of cultural identity. Considering the dual ethnic heritage of his own children in ‘Octoroon’, he imagines that at bath time, the bubbles themselves ‘gasp’ at the cocoa skin of his blonde, blue-eyed baby, in a conceit born out of the Imperialist ‘White Man’s Burden’ adverts for Pears soap. It is one of many powerful and uneasy images arising from a grappling with unresolved issues of ethnic identity which still haunt a supposedly cosmopolitan Britain.
Much of Daljit Nagra’s strength lies in his ability to combine the mundane with the extraordinary in witty and absorbing insights into multicultural Britain. A picture emerges of a Britain which is simultaneously cosmopolitan and yet not quite at ease with the fact. British imperialism is presented as a kind of cultural Ozymandias: a faded yet grotesque reminder of former audacity and tyranny. It is a testament to Nagra’s skill as a poet that these ideas are accessible without an obtrusive or soap-boxy style of narration. His packed, effusive language cuts a swathe through the more sedate and deadpan iambs which populate British poetry right now. Tippoo Sultan is a remarkable collection, which throws down the poetic gauntlet in ways which have the power to provoke, and to change the way things are done.
Daljit Nagra requires scant introduction. His rapid ascendancy to the Forward Prize in 2007, and international acclaim which followed, began just 4 years previously with the release of his first pamphlet- itself a winner of the prestigious Poetry Business competition. The collection which was to follow, Look We Have Coming To Dover! , garnered attention for its exuberance and linguistic playfulness in addressing the theme of British immigrant identity. This, (and the tendency to give his collections quite eccentric names), are characteristics which have persisted in his new collection, Tippoo Sultan’s Incredible White Man Eating Tiger Toy Machine!!! .
The book picks up where Dover left off in examining the postcolonial themes of ‘Britishness’ and the effect of the empire, and subsequent partition, on Anglo-Indian identity. Nagra often explores these ideas through the creation of remarkably rich and compelling ideolects for his poetic characters, which combine inventive Sikhisms like ‘sweet as ladoos’ with the earthiness of a Yorkshire accent. In ‘Raju t’Wonder Dog!’, one stanza alone manages to marry Morrisons and reincarnation, Hindu gods and shoplifting with a seamlessness which can only be attributed to his capacious linguistic imagination.
In ‘The Ascent of a Victorian Woman’, we are given the reverse of the colonial coin, as we follow the Indian progress of a haughty colonist drawn along by 2 bullocks. The image would provide ample humour for the reader, if not tainted by her contempt for the ‘shrivelled’ natives. Her description of the Hindu culture, ‘once the cradle of civilisation’ as ‘fallen into parody’ displays Nagra’s wit in parodying the arrogance of Victorian culture, itself once the supposed cradle of civilisation. Cultures, this collection reminds us, are as mortal as those who live within them, and equally complex, contradictory and heterogeneous. It brings us to wondering what generations of future poets will make, in hindsight, of our current times and mores.
Fatherhood is one of the more surprising, intimate turns this collection takes in its exploration of cultural identity. Considering the dual ethnic heritage of his own children in ‘Octoroon’, he imagines that at bath time, the bubbles themselves ‘gasp’ at the cocoa skin of his blonde, blue-eyed baby, in a conceit born out of the Imperialist ‘White Man’s Burden’ adverts for Pears soap. It is one of many powerful and uneasy images arising from a grappling with unresolved issues of ethnic identity which still haunt a supposedly cosmopolitan Britain.
Much of Daljit Nagra’s strength lies in his ability to combine the mundane with the extraordinary in witty and absorbing insights into multicultural Britain. A picture emerges of a Britain which is simultaneously cosmopolitan and yet not quite at ease with the fact. British imperialism is presented as a kind of cultural Ozymandias: a faded yet grotesque reminder of former audacity and tyranny. It is a testament to Nagra’s skill as a poet that these ideas are accessible without an obtrusive or soap-boxy style of narration. His packed, effusive language cuts a swathe through the more sedate and deadpan iambs which populate British poetry right now. Tippoo Sultan is a remarkable collection, which throws down the poetic gauntlet in ways which have the power to provoke, and to change the way things are done.
Interview with Daljit Nagra
When writing Dover you were less established as a poet. How has its success change the way you approached
writing in general, and specifically Tippoo Sultan?
I’ve continued trying to write in the ideal and continued to imagine that possibly no one would be interested in my poetry. This probably comes through with the verbally aggressive poems or the ones that seem a bit too compact and that probably won’t have a mass audience appeal. Essentially, I’ve continued pursuing the projects I had in mind about forms, rhetoric and content that were started in Dover.
You've said that you travelled India in order to conduct research for your poetry. Can you tell me about that? Did that influence your latest collection?
I used a chunk of my arts council grant to visit Calcutta and Darjeeling. The first was the empire’s original seat of power and the latter was one of the hill stations they’d go to so they could cool off. Several poems are influenced by this journey. Pukka Verse, The Victorian woman poem – I came across Mazuchelli’s book in Darjeeling, and I started my Kipling rewrite poem there too. I see the empire as my historical starting point on earth – if it wasn’t for the empire my family wouldn’t have moved here and I wouldn’t have become a whitey!
Quite a lot of your new collection displays so-called ‘prose’ skills, such as creating compelling characters with their own narratives and idiolects. Are prose techniques an influence on your poetry? Would you ever turn your hand to prose?
Once I had the idea of Tippoo Sultan’s toy as an idea for a title for the 2nd book, which was a few years ago, I decide I wanted to pounce on things as the tiger does on the soldier. One way to pounce was to seek out English sources and re-do them hence the takes on Victorian writers. The narratives came from a stylistic impulse. I don’t have the slightest desire to write plays or prose as I’m still keen to experiment with language in poetry. It’s the play with language that interests me in writing and I can play around in many styles by writing many poems for a collection as opposed to being bound up with one novel over time.
Tippoo Sultan as a collection seems to centre on the shock of alienating and displacing cultural norms. London becomes the scene of a Bollywood love story, and a character quips about ladoos in a Yorkshire accent. Is this a theme you consciously set out to pursue with the collection? Is that shock value lacking in the poetry world?
I’m never aware that any of my poems may ‘shock’ but that that is an effect for the reader. If the poems I write surprise me in a pleasing way I continue developing them. I’m never sure where a poem will end up once I have started it. In contemporary poetry, what I look for is play with language and imagination exploring itself; if I find this I like the poem and then hopefully the poet. I think we need more play in contemporary poetry.
You have a reputation for being highly innovative, especially with your use of language and dialect. What, in your opinion, still needs shaking up, and what can we expect next from you?
I want to continue experimenting with language and forms to see if I can still write poems that genuinely excite me. I want to sense this in other poets: that they have enjoyed writing the poem. Often I feel the poet is writing as a ‘poet’ with a serious head on to communicate an idea. If this latter is the intention of the poet then perhaps they should write an essay. I want to sense a poet having gone on a journey in their work and having enjoyed ending up somewhere they didn’t necessarily think they’d end up.
I’ve continued trying to write in the ideal and continued to imagine that possibly no one would be interested in my poetry. This probably comes through with the verbally aggressive poems or the ones that seem a bit too compact and that probably won’t have a mass audience appeal. Essentially, I’ve continued pursuing the projects I had in mind about forms, rhetoric and content that were started in Dover.
You've said that you travelled India in order to conduct research for your poetry. Can you tell me about that? Did that influence your latest collection?
I used a chunk of my arts council grant to visit Calcutta and Darjeeling. The first was the empire’s original seat of power and the latter was one of the hill stations they’d go to so they could cool off. Several poems are influenced by this journey. Pukka Verse, The Victorian woman poem – I came across Mazuchelli’s book in Darjeeling, and I started my Kipling rewrite poem there too. I see the empire as my historical starting point on earth – if it wasn’t for the empire my family wouldn’t have moved here and I wouldn’t have become a whitey!
Quite a lot of your new collection displays so-called ‘prose’ skills, such as creating compelling characters with their own narratives and idiolects. Are prose techniques an influence on your poetry? Would you ever turn your hand to prose?
Once I had the idea of Tippoo Sultan’s toy as an idea for a title for the 2nd book, which was a few years ago, I decide I wanted to pounce on things as the tiger does on the soldier. One way to pounce was to seek out English sources and re-do them hence the takes on Victorian writers. The narratives came from a stylistic impulse. I don’t have the slightest desire to write plays or prose as I’m still keen to experiment with language in poetry. It’s the play with language that interests me in writing and I can play around in many styles by writing many poems for a collection as opposed to being bound up with one novel over time.
Tippoo Sultan as a collection seems to centre on the shock of alienating and displacing cultural norms. London becomes the scene of a Bollywood love story, and a character quips about ladoos in a Yorkshire accent. Is this a theme you consciously set out to pursue with the collection? Is that shock value lacking in the poetry world?
I’m never aware that any of my poems may ‘shock’ but that that is an effect for the reader. If the poems I write surprise me in a pleasing way I continue developing them. I’m never sure where a poem will end up once I have started it. In contemporary poetry, what I look for is play with language and imagination exploring itself; if I find this I like the poem and then hopefully the poet. I think we need more play in contemporary poetry.
You have a reputation for being highly innovative, especially with your use of language and dialect. What, in your opinion, still needs shaking up, and what can we expect next from you?
I want to continue experimenting with language and forms to see if I can still write poems that genuinely excite me. I want to sense this in other poets: that they have enjoyed writing the poem. Often I feel the poet is writing as a ‘poet’ with a serious head on to communicate an idea. If this latter is the intention of the poet then perhaps they should write an essay. I want to sense a poet having gone on a journey in their work and having enjoyed ending up somewhere they didn’t necessarily think they’d end up.
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