Allison McVety
Miming Happiness

Allison McVety’s first collection, The Night Trotsky Came to Stay (Smith/Doorstop, 2007), was the overall winner of the 2006 Poetry Business Book & Pamphlet Competition. It was was shortlisted for the 2008 Forward Best First Collection Prize and won enthusiastic reviews.

Allison's second collection, Miming Happiness, will be launched on Thursday. 

Allison’s poems have appeared in such as the Times and PN Review and have been broadcast on Radio 3. She has an MA in Poetry and was shortlisted for the inaugural MMU Poetry Prize 2008.

Allison's launch is to be held at Wokingham Town Hall, from 7:30pm. All welcome, but places are limited so please do let us know if you're planning to attend.





IN THE READING ROOM AT THE BRITISH LIBRARY

you can hear the sea. And in this noiseless place,
a pin drop from a milliner’s grip some ninety years
away, or a wren caught in the eaves of a sudden thought.
There’s a finger, sweat greasing its trigger at dawn
as it eases back to join the volley of twelve Enfields
in the yard, dust falling from the walls as we all
fall in time. A rage of sound exalted to stillness
and it carries down the decades. Even after-hours
the librarians whisper here, afraid to weigh their loss
or private joy against the din. As though one
misplaced word could creak like a nightingale
on a parquet floor, jar like a note in a symphony
of counted bars at rest, could make you miss the atom
cracking with the thunder of a goldcrest’s heart.

— Allison McVety, Miming Happiness (Smith/Doorstop, 2010)





‘Vivid and sensual’ — Vicki Feaver

‘Allison McVety seizes the reader’s attention. Partly it’s a narrative talent, but her particular skill is in converting the feel of the day-to-day – whether ordinary, intriguing or alarming – into genuine poetry’ — Alan Brownjohn

‘Here is a poet who excels at making longgone everyday objects like ration books at once endearing and remarkable. An exhilarating follow-up to her outstanding collection, The Night Trotsky Came to Stay. So clear is her voice that we can hear “a pin drop from a milliner’s grip some ninety years/away”.’ — Samantha Wynne-Rhydderch



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