What's a Monday Called? is Danny D. Ford's first full-collection of poetry. Ford grew up in Bristol but has been living in Italy for more than 10 years. Although he is best known for his artwork through his web site 'the unfolding head' (https:www.theunfoldinghead.com) and his instagram page (@theunfoldinghead), Ford has also previously published 17 chapbooks of poetry which he draws upon in this book. A review is to follow.
Interview with Danny D Ford 30 June 2024
When did you first develop an interest in poetry and what prompted you to actually write the stuff?
It developed out of keeping a journal, which I have done on and off since I was a child. I didn’t connect with poetry at school; the way it was presented made it all seem pretty dull. But later, at university, I had this professor, Feeney, a wiry bloke from New England, who was prone to eccentric outbursts. His enthusiasm was infectious, and he really lit a fire in my belly. Feeney told me to ‘keep writing’, and so I did. He got me reading Hunter S. Thompson, which led to discovering poetry I liked, and that’s when I realised it could talk to me, make me laugh, actually help me to understand something about life. Once back in Bristol, I started going along to open-mic nights, finding small presses, zines etc. and it carried on from there.
Do you write/ draw everyday? Do you do much redrafting? How do you fit it into a daily/ weekly routine?
Yes I write most days, I try to write as much as I can. Sometimes the notes are fully formed, sometimes they are just single lines, or ideas that could become part of a cartoon or something. I like to write down weird things I hear people say, snippets of conversation, or random bits from adverts, etc. Then, as often as I can, I sit at the computer and type up my notebooks. This part is a mix of editing and writing anew and it’s what I enjoy most. I usually do this late at night, over the weekend. With drawing, on average I do around one to two full watercolour illustrations a week, and I’ve been doing that for around eight years now. Drawing is a real escape. I find both writing and drawing pretty therapeutic to be honest, so I just tend to do it as much as I can because it feels right.
Who are some of your early and more recent poetic influences which helped you develop your style and perhaps, subject matter and themes?
I read a lot of books on football hooliganism as a teen, as I had been going around the country watching football most of my life up to that point. I recognised right away how much I enjoyed the rawness of those stories, and because they were people and places that I recognised it was easy to get into. Ostensibly they were football books, but really they were revealing something about everyday people. Later, I remember discovering and being really struck by the song writing of Elliott Smith, and for a while I obsessed over his lines, which got me thinking about word play.
When I discovered Allen Ginsberg, his poetry really inspired me, and I quickly found he was a gateway to all those other writers from that era, Bukowski being the one I just couldn’t put down. Later on, the writing and performances of some Bristol based poets like Andi Langford-Woods, Julian Ramsey-Wade, Hazel Hammond, John Terry, and Mark Anthony Pearce made a big impression on me. Mark and I became fast friends and I distinctly remember him putting a Raymond Carver book in my hand all those years ago, that I still regularly pick up. Julian Maclaren-Ross, John Fante and William Wantling, are some others whose work has sparked something in me. There is a book by Félix Fénéon called ‘Novels in Three Lines’ and I think reading that was the first time I grasped what the absence of words can do to a piece of writing.
‘What’s a Monday Called’ is your first full collection and puts together a lot of your early work which first appeared in a dozen or so chapbooks and elsewhere. How did you go about selecting and sequencing your work for publication in the book?
For a while I had been putting together some poems that had appeared in various magazines and anthologies, and I wanted to put them together in one place. I then had the idea of mixing in some new unpublished poems as well as one or two very early, long out of print pieces, to create a complete manuscript. I then ordered the poems chronologically by content, because that felt the natural way to structure the work, and map out the past decade or so.
Your poetry tends to be written mostly in first person, confessional, narrative free verse. Why the preference for this type of poetry? Do you have any regrets in publishing your personal thoughts and feelings?
I want to write the kind of things I would like to read, and this is just how it comes out. It’s obviously a fine line between sharing your own experience and oversharing someone else’s. There are a lot of poems I have never published and won’t for a long time, if ever. I remember reading about how Michel de Montaigne used to describe his bathroom habits and such like. Describing life with frankness is just part of what I enjoy in many different ways, be it film, photography, etc; it’s social realism I suppose. My poems are of course just my subjective experience, and I’m only aiming to express it honestly if nothing else. Plus, in a way, it’s a great tester to see if anyone is actually reading any of it! I’ve always wanted stories about everyday people, stories about things that have happened or could happen to you or to someone you know. However cliché it may sound, I do believe in the beauty that can be found in the seemingly mundane.
The title of the book derives from the titular poem of the same name. I was wondering why this became your choice for the title.
The working title for the manuscript was The Boy Next Door, but our mutual friend Tohm warned me I might accidentally acquire a new unwanted audience. Having read the manuscript he then kindly put forward some alternative suggestions, based off lines from the poems. I read these suggestions aloud to my wife Flavia and ‘What’s a Monday Called?’ got the biggest reaction from her. This isn’t what could be described as a process or anything, it’s just the way it went this time. I heard our current Gregorian calendar has been going since the sixteenth century, mean somewhere someone has been keeping count of the days of the week. That’s how we know today is a Friday or whatever. I love that. What is a Monday anyway? We call Mondays Mondaysand we know what that means, but what it the quality of Mondayness? What is a Monday called if it no longer means what Monday means to most other people? I’m fascinated by the way names take on layers of meaning. I like this title because I feel it captures the humour and absurdity in everyday life that hopefully comes through in the content. I’m fascinated by the way seemingly arbitrary names hold such weight, and I enjoy the interplay of perceptions in that titular poem, which is expressed through passersby staring at me on a public bench.
The book’s cover designed by Lewis McLean features a silhouette of a young man facing a sun. Why this symbolic choice?
Paul Grant, editor at Yellow King Press, sent me around twenty different designs that Lewis had put together. This was the one that I felt best reflected the mood of the writing. Aesthetically I like the way the colour pallet looks against the white trim, and within the design itself there is a kind of overlap of inner & outer worlds. I also think there’s a cinematic quality to the image, which automatically makes me think of storytelling. On top of this, I’ve always been drawn to that idea of following the sun.
You moved to Italy about ten years ago from England. How has living and working in Italy helped to shape your views of the world and the writing of your poetry?
It’s given me the opportunity to learn my own language better. Learning Italian has inevitably led to noticing things about English that I hadn’t previously, and consequently I appreciate my native language more these days. In terms of sheer richness of culture, there are fewer places in the world better than Italy, it’s exposed me to a lot of different ideas and ways of life. Above all though, being surrounded by such a variety of artwork, be it the façade of a building, or a macabre fresco (of which there are many in the Bergamo province) or artisanal crafts; living here has opened my mind to the importance of how you approach what you do. I often come across an appreciation for the granular details of things that never fails to amaze. For example, I remember talking to a friend one day about summer holidays, and he began commenting on the quality of the light in certain parts of the country at certain times of the year. He talked about this in a way that made it sound like it was common knowledge. He had a pint in his hand and with the other he was grabbing the air and rubbing it between his fingers as a way to accentuate the quality of the light he was describing. I’ve heard people talk similarly about the quality of the water, shades of colour, and of course, food. It’s hard not to be impressed by this appreciation of life; it’s like they’re squeezing every last drop out of things. Sure, it can almost seem fussy at times but it really only ever tends to encourage the acknowledgment of nuance. Discussing fine details is a way of exploring the bigger picture, right? By comparison to the culture I grew up in, there’s less awkwardness about speaking up and saying what you really think, so in terms of how this relates to my writing, I’ve learned to accept how I really feel about things, and then use that to focus on what I really want to say.
Is there a specific poem in the collection which stands out for you? If so, can you select one and take us through it, commenting say, on the context of the poem, your use of language and poetic intent.
Yes I like the poem ‘Space Raiders’. I think in a way this poem was on my mind for a long time before I wrote it. I wanted to use the language of computer games, not only to help with the setting but also because of the way computer games blur what’s real and not real, especially in the mind of a child. At least, that’s how it was for me. My older brothers and I played video games at home, and the first console I remember was the Sinclair Spectrum. Going to any arcade as a kid felt exciting and so of course, suddenly having an uncle who was running one and could give you as many free goes as you liked was a big deal. It didn’t last long, but then neither did the games as I was pretty shit at most of them. On reflection, it’s easy to see how they clicked with my imagination and perception of life at that age; going on missions, different levels, baddies, goodies, poison, potions, final bosses, cheat codes. You want to win, but you just might not, you might get killed, or you might make a fatal mistake, or someone else might want to watch something on the TV. I have lots of memories of playing computer games with my older brothers, and being four of us there were different combinations of players, till there were no players left at home, and then there were different homes and then the consoles got put away to collect dust. I haven’t played computer games much as an adult, and so as a result this has helped crystalize certain aspects of childhood. The title is a reference to a brand of crisps that were popular back then. I also chose this as the title because of the natural sound link to ‘Space Invaders’, which is obviously iconic and a totem of the arcade world.
Space Raiders
our uncle
ran the arcade
& the skeleton key
he used
for giving us
free goes
was as long
& black
as his moustache
I piloted many successful missions
through unknown galaxies
killing scores of enemies
along the way
but I couldn’t stop
our uncle
moving in with us
once the hungry
hungry hippos
had all gone
on a diet
I couldn’t
reset
mum and dad’s
marriage
player one
by one
my brothers
left home
in pursuit
of new planets
& nothing whatsoever
was written in stars
What have you been up to since the publication of ‘What’s Monday Called?’ Do you have any further upcoming projects?
I have a couple of poetry chapbooks out this year, ‘Shame’ with Back Room Poetry, and ‘Son of a Milkman’ with Scumbag Press. Along with Mark Anthony Pearce and Gwil James Thomas, I have been working on a manuscript of poems based on and set in Bristol. Away from poetry I have been working on some short stories, with one in particular that I am currently expanding into a novella, and I’ve got a couple of illustration projects in the works which I am excited about.
Thanks Danny for your time and all the best with your work!
