Flowers And Insects

The natural world is a charming place, provided one doesn’t look too closely. Flowers bloom, birds sing, butterflies flutter about looking decorative, and somewhere beneath a perfectly innocent-looking leaf, something with six legs is enthusiastically eating something else. Ted Hughes, never a poet to be distracted by the sentimental nonsense of nature calendars, was particularly interested in what was really going on.

Flowers and Insects (1986), published by Faber and Faber, is a remarkable collection of poems in which Hughes turns his formidable poetic imagination upon the smaller inhabitants of the natural world. Its fuller title, Flowers and Insects: Some Birds and a Pair of Spiders, suggests a reasonably peaceful excursion through the countryside, although anyone familiar with Hughes will suspect that the proceedings may become considerably more dramatic than a Sunday afternoon visit to the garden centre.

Hughes was fascinated by the raw energy of nature, the mysterious forces driving living things and the extraordinary intensity of existence beyond the comfortable boundaries of human civilisation. Where another poet might see a pretty flower, Hughes detects an entire biological drama involving survival, reproduction, transformation and the relentless determination of life to continue being life.

His insects are not merely decorative accessories to summer afternoons. They are extraordinary little creatures, driven by instincts and appetites that seem almost mythological when examined through Hughes’s imagination. Flowers become elaborate participants in nature’s endless negotiations, while birds and spiders demonstrate that the natural world has never been particularly interested in observing the rules of polite society.

The poems combine extraordinarily precise observation with vivid imagery and an almost unsettling awareness of the strange forces operating within apparently ordinary things. Hughes can transform a tiny creature into something monumental, revealing entire worlds of activity that most of us overlook while complaining about the weather.

The collection is further enriched by illustrations by Leonard Baskin, the distinguished American artist whose powerful visual imagination made him a particularly appropriate collaborator for Hughes. Their partnership brings an additional dimension to a book already overflowing with the peculiar beauty and occasional menace of nature.

There is something deliciously ironic about our enthusiasm for the natural world. We admire butterflies, cultivate roses and photograph birds, yet become deeply offended when insects demonstrate an equally enthusiastic interest in our kitchens. Hughes reminds us that nature is not a carefully managed public park established for human enjoyment, but an enormous and gloriously indifferent system in which every living thing is attempting to get on with its business.

Published in 1986, this is an appealing volume for admirers of Ted Hughes, collectors of modern poetry and readers who appreciate the more mysterious, energetic and occasionally alarming aspects of the countryside.

Condition: Good. A previously owned copy showing ordinary signs of age, reading and handling, but remaining an attractive addition to any poetry collection.

Offered by Crappy Old Books, where we have considerable admiration for flowers, a slightly more complicated relationship with insects, and an absolute determination that neither should be encouraged to take up permanent residence among the stock.

A wonderful reminder that even the smallest creatures can inspire extraordinary poetry, particularly when observed by someone who suspects that the average garden contains enough drama to rival the complete works of Shakespeare.

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