Ruth Padel, who was Oxford's first female Professor of Poetry
Updated: June 18, 2010
(On Friday June 18, Oxford University announced that Geoffrey Hill had won
the election to become the university's 44th Professor of Poetry. Hill
claimed 1,156 of the roughly 2,500 votes that were cast by Oxford alumni and
academics. Beat poet Michael Horovitz finished second with 353 votes.)
For centuries, the election of Oxford University's Professor of Poetry has been a quiet and dignified affair: academics nominate esteemed poets, fellows of the university cast their votes, and students and teachers alike laud the victor who, as professor, delivers one lecture a term, following in the footsteps of former honorees W.H. Auden, Cecil Day-Lewis, Robert Graves and Seamus Heaney. On the eve of the university's June 18 announcement of its next Professor of Poetry, those luminaries must be rolling in their graves. Following weeks of verbal jostling, mudslinging and accusations of sexism, the once august process now resembles a circus.
In the most recent chapter of a saga that has been unfolding for more than a year, Paula Claire, the only female contender for the five-year post, withdrew from the race on June 9 alleging favoritism toward the best-known candidate, Geoffrey Hill.
Speaking to the Guardian, Claire derided as "repugnant" an endorsement by the Oxford Gazette — the university's official journal — which described Hill as "quite simply a giant" and "the finest living poet in English today." But observers say her accusations merely mask sour grapes: given her background, her bid was a long shot to begin with. Voters have typically elected Establishment poets, which Claire most certainly is not. She moonlights as a performance artist and says on her website that she had hoped to "encourage the use of modern technology in the service of poetry." The site also features a photograph of Claire performing poetry standing in front of a burial mound and holding, according to the caption, "symbolic produce of the earth — juicy red apples."
"I haven't withdrawn in a pique — I've withdrawn for women," she told the Guardian. "The post was founded in 1708. They haven't had a woman since then, and I think they're still determined to put a man in it."
Not strictly true. On May 16, 2009, Ruth Padel — the great-great-granddaughter of Charles Darwin — became the first woman to be elected to the role. Nine days later she also became the first woman to resign from it, kicking off the current election's descent into farce. During Padel's tooth-and-claw campaign against Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott, her opponent withdrew his candidacy after documents — including an allegation of sexual harassment dating back to 1982, when he was teaching at Harvard — were anonymously e-mailed to Oxford academics. Walcott described the tactic as a "low and degrading attempt at character assassination." Padel denied involvement in any smear campaign. But after her election and a series of reports that alleged she did have a hand in sending out the documents, she resigned, admitting that she had "naively — and with hindsight unwisely — passed on to two journalists ... information that was already in the public domain."
The post of Professor of Poetry has remained unfilled since then. In order to clean up the election's tarnished image, officials made key changes this year. Traditionally voting has taken place during a single day, with academics and alumni casting their ballots on campus. This year, thousands of alumni around the world were allowed to cast their ballots electronically, with polls closing on June 16. By expanding the electorate, though, officials inadvertently increased the scope for catfighting — an inevitable consequence of mixing art, ego and the Internet. "If one of the — as it were — fringe players were to get something going on the Internet, Facebooking or Twittering, Geoffrey Hill could actually be knocked out of it," Michael George Gibson, another candidate, told reporters.
Candidate Roger Lewis, a journalist and Anthony Burgess's biographer, turned to the pen to shore up support. On June 9, the same day of Claire's resignation, the Telegraph published an essay by Lewis entitled "Now Here's What I Call Poetry." Fearing "ignominious defeat and humiliation," he listed 54 examples of what he considers poetry, including the "tilt of Garbo's face in profile," the "bend of Chaplin's cane" and "the characters eating the watermelon in Chekhov's 'The Lady with the Little Dog' — sheer mysterious ecstasy."
In response, Michael Horovitz, a beat poet and contemporary of Jack Kerouac's and Allen Ginsberg's, wrote a letter the next day to the same newspaper, calling his rival a "pseudo-intellectual," among other things. "Roger Lewis's catalogue of favorite things he calls poetry was at first sight quite intriguing, but contained few allusions to actual poetry," he wrote matter-of-factly. "Mr. Lewis could presumably spout the hind legs off a donkey about these subjects, but how does this qualify him to follow Masefield, Auden, Graves and Heaney as the next Professor of Poetry?" Oh, snap.
One upside to all the bickering and name-calling is that the controversy around Oxford's new professor has people paying attention to poetry again. By increasing the public profiles of the candidates, the scandalous election will produce winners even among the losers. Now that's poetic justice.
— With reporting by Adam White / London