charlie jermyn wades through the bog

Hello from the bog! As we worked on other things, our Substack (bogstack?) was submerged. Now, we emerge again with a guest writer; here, we welcome the inimitable Charlie Jermyn. Read all about the audiobook version of his debut book, ‘The Boy, The Bucket and The Persistent Tide’, the wonderful works that fed into it from artists past and present, and a sodden ball, floating off towards somewhere.

Listen now: Apple Podcasts | Spotify

The Given Note

…On the most westerly Blasket

In a dry-stone hut

He got this air out of the night.

Strange noises were heard

By others who followed, bits of a tune

Coming in on loud weather…

Excerpt from Seamus Heaney (Door into the Dark, 1969)

Hello,

I started with that excerpt of the Seamus Heaney poem, The Given Note, as it describes so beautifully inspiration dropping in off elsewhere. Not from nowhere, from beyond the craggy coast of the Dingle Peninsula. Out over the curved hills of the Blaskets, skirting the bobbing seadogs by the white beach. In the sand there close to twenty five years ago, I buried a tennis ball. I had just been given a small, child-sized hurl, so I wanted to mess around on the deep and dimpled white sands, bright against the green hillside over it.

I was distracted by seals. Or buoys. No seals, and the shine of their blubber. When I returned to find the ball, after some minutes had passed, the ball was not where I thought it would be. I dug like a desperate dog. I cried hard. Tough lessons were learnt that day. Be careful of burying things. Take note of where you leave your objects. What use is a bat when you don’t have a ball?

I now picture the ball, sodden, floating in the Atlantic, on its way, chewed by seadogs, swallowed by the cavernous jowls of a basking shark and spat out, sent on its way to Hy-Brasil. Or is it stuck by the cliffs of that sleeping giant, his shovel hands crossed over his navel?

I love The Given Note, as it takes me back to my holidays in Ventry in Kerry, beauty rolling in, wild nature, the unending horizon, imagining New York and whales and St. Brendan in his humble currach.

The Given Note also shows the magic of musical creation, airs, winds, chiming together to make music. For those who have not heard anything about it, or who are wondering who I am, I wrote ‘The Boy, The Bucket and The Persistent Tide.’ Published by, designed by, cared for by, driven into existence by Bog Bodies Press. The book came out at the end of last year. The work documents my time living in the Netherlands, the first five years. I went out on excursions and wrote short non-fiction works, prose and essays on my experiences. I conjure up my own memories. Rough marks on the canvas, a landscape forms, a seascape swells, things come about, sand in the dollops, boot print in the mud. The way I write, I think, always opens itself up to being read aloud

So, I have made an audiobook. The first 14 chapters are being released serially, episode by episode, completely free.

Those first 14 chapters make up the entirety of Part One of my book. This section - entitled ‘The Boy’ - takes us from an attic in Leiden to Doggerland to the coastline and inland all the way up to the highest point in the Netherlands. The journey is like that of a miniature aquatic creature that took the first steps of evolution, from the silt and seafoam, making sense of the place. Part Two, The Bucket - and Part Three, The Persistent Tide - will be coming out after this initial release in the form of a complete audiobook.

I’m excited for people to listen and jumped at the chance to work with a musician. In thinking about the audio production, I sought inspiration from others.

The Drifting Off podcasts where the voice of Joe Pera is softly accompanied by musicians and soundscapes allows listeners to pleasantly float with his wonderful absurdity. On Ballooning, On Wind, On Video Games.

I had the audiobook of the exceptional, inspirational auto memoir ‘Question 7’ by Richard Flanagan in my mind.

I also wanted the audiobook to have the comfort of old travel documentaries, like those of Seamus Heaney, and a man interviewing people while visiting Newgrange and ancient grave mounds of Knowth and Dowth, New Discoveries At Newgrange, Co. Meath, Ireland 1962.

On the topic of Heaney, I was also inspired by the legendary album he made with Liam O’Flynn, the poet and the piper, particularly the opening piece on The Given Note / Port na bPúcai. The poem referenced above. Let it take you over.

Air was on my mind when I recorded in the tiny studio at Passa Porta in Brussels. Breath, voice, inhale, exhale, and the humid world of the studio. At times, I felt like a lizard under the lamps praying for passing flies. John Lappin is my answer to Liam O’Flynn; in the episodes so far John has brought beautiful music, soundscapes, birdsong, footsteps on gravel, tossing tides, squelching and gentle winds, given notes making the pylons whistle, hum. John has gone traditional on the flat-backed bouzouki, he’s gone electric, he’s gone ambient electronica, he’s gone IDM, dino synth, ambient neanderthalica, and where will he go next? We’ll have to be patient and find out in times to come.

If you enjoy the audiobook, run to your local square and ring a bell like a town crier, letting the people know what they’re missing. This week we returned after a break as myself and John were preparing for and performing at the Dalkey Book Festival. You can expect Boschian metamorphosis, birdwatching, an old mill, a pregnant donkey, the young giddy André Rieu spinning around on a Star Flyer, pondering the highest point of the Netherlands with a frozen Calippo in my hand, the pancake man flipping his invisible disc.

Listen now: Apple Podcasts | Spotify

Thank you for reading.

Now, I go to dream up ancient tennis balls, free of their neon, gliding in the swell.

Charlie.