Hannah Lowe's pamphlet: The Hitcher
The Rialto is to publish the first collection from Hannah Lowe as part of its Bridge Pamphlet series. Further information and order details are beneath - in the meantime scroll down to read Hannah's poem 'Jason', some biographical information and reviews.
The Rialto is proud to announce the launch on Friday 1 April of Hannah Lowe's first pamphlet 'The Hitcher', 7:30 pm, upstairs at the Kings Cross Social Club, 2 Brittania Street, London WC1X9JE.
With its commitment to placing the best new talent in poetry alongside established names, The Rialto is well-placed to spot and nurture the best new talent around. Editor Michael Mackmin said of Hannah: "Every now and again there arrives at a poetry magazine a poem that clearly announces a new voice. ‘Fist’ which starts off Hannah’s pamphlet is one such work. ‘Here’ it says ‘is someone with something to say, and in brilliant command of the means of saying it.'"
The Hitcher is The Rialto’s fourth ‘Bridge Pamphlet’ - a series of pamphlets that are designed to cross the gap between magazine and book publication for new writers or, for established writers, between collections.
For more information:
to contact Helen Mitchell or order a review copy email: info@therialto.co.uk
Editors notes
More on ‘The Hitcher’
"Hannah Lowe’s poems are hugely enjoyable, full of life as it is really lived, and manage to be completely unpredictable and yet at the same time utterly inevitable. She is an immensely talented writer, and this is an outstanding first collection." – Peter Sansom
"Hannah Lowe is a wonderfully evocative and lyrical writer. She handles form with an easy confidence but she is also a refreshingly able storyteller. With the publication of this pamphlet, Lowe will surely be recognised as one of the most exciting new voices in British poetry." – John Glenday
Hannah Lowe
Hannah was born in Ilford to an English mother and Jamaican-Chinese father. She has lived in Brighton and Santa Cruz, California, studied American Literature at the University of Sussex and has a Masters degree in Refugee Studies. Hannah lives in Brixton and teaches literature at a college in Islington. She has previously had work published in Ambit, Acumen, Magma, Rising, Smiths Knoll, The Delinquent, The North and The Rialto
The Rialto
The Rialto magazine was set up by Michael Mackmin, John Wakeman and Jenny Roberts in 1983. The aim was to create a ‘republic of poetry’ where new poets would appear alongside established ones. The first issue included poems by Margaret Atwood, George Barker and a then little known Carol Ann Duffy.
Michael Mackmin continues to edit the magazine and it has become one of the most respected in the country. Michael reads some 12,000 poems annually to get the final selection of 180 featured across the three issues a year. The Rialto magazine is published three times a year and each issue includes news and views as well as around 60 new poems. From the start The Rialto has received support from Arts Council England and it is currently in receipt of a Grants for the Arts award.
“The Rialto is simply the best.” - Carol Ann Duffy
“I’ve enjoyed The Rialto; very full and varied.”- Ted Hughes
“Poetry gives us essential human pleasures and rewards, not least because it allows us to discover richer versions of ourselves. The Rialto, being reliably full of excellent new work, is an excellent place to find these pleasure and rewards.” - Andrew Motion
The Bridge Pamphlet series
Other pamphlets in The Rialto’s Bridge Pamphlets series include ‘Bye for Now’ by Lorraine Marriner, ‘The Magnolia’ by Richard Lambert and ‘The Night is Young’ by Peter Sansom.
JASON by Hannah Lowe
You showed me dead birds in the park. We stayed out late,
clambered over railings, rang stranger’s bells and ran.
I didn’t ask about the rusty scabs, your bashed skin
until you were the runt of a new pack -
boys in West Ham shirts with slashed mouths, bitten nails,
their subways tagged in rage.
I craved you back, still played the tapes you made me.
I heard you'd put a brick through someone’s door.
You turned up one New Year’s Eve, three years older,
moon-eyed, twitchy, out of place. You punched a window -
a shimmering slice of glass wedged in your wrist.
I read what you did in the paper, mindless, frenzied,
a reporter phoned the house. I found a photo:
the only boy in the gymnastics team, your goblin face
squinting at the flash. They found you in your cell.
Too late to unclench those fists as hard as stones.
Little rascal. You thud around my head
like a football kicked, and kicked again.