Hollie McNish , Luke Wright

 
Just a 17 minute train journey from Norwich, and with the last ride home not leaving until just after one o'clock in the morning, Diss with its pedestrianised centre, parkland, and mysterious freshwater centrepiece, The Mere, offers a host of opportunities for a day out. And, in the evening, you can take your pick from an array of pubs and restaurants, before taking in a show at The Corn Hall.
 
Originally built in 1854 as an indoor farmers' trading market, this impressive building was still operating commercially until the late 1990's. In 2010, it re-opened as an arts venue, and now boasts a full programme of music, drama, comedy, films, and spoken word. So, when I spotted that Hollie McNish, my absolute favourite contemporary poet, was appearing at one of Luke Wright's regular Corn Hall spoken word soirées, it was definitely time for me to venture South.
 
Wright seems much less intimidating in the close confines of the Corn Hall. Those who might have caught him curating the Poetry Arena at Latitude, supporting John Cooper Clarke at The Halls in Norwich, or performing one of his trilogy of politically-charged plays at Norwich Arts Centre, may have experienced a brash, bordering on arrogant, performer – witty and entertaining, but perhaps a tad cocky.

 
Perhaps it was the congenial and familiar inimacy of The Corn Hall, or maybe a sense of hosting a home crowd (Essex-born Wright now lives nearby, in Bungay), but Luke came across tonight as much more gentle and relaxed – still performing his poetry largely from memory, still impressive in his delivery of the univocal 'Spad' (a deftly crafted lexicon of prose, using only words with the letter 'a' for the allowed vowel sound) with breathtaking precision; still ranting against the Jeremy Clarkson counter-culture in 'Checking My Privilege'; and still whimsical and amusing in equal measure in 'One Trick Bishop', his tribute to an abseiling clergyman. And his nature-inspired  'Are Murmurations Worth It?' was both beautiful and thought-provoking in equal measure.
 
Hollie McNish remains something of an enigma to me. Charming, engaging, and brutally honest in her recollections of adolescance; frank and open in her descritions of pregnancy and motherhood; and championing in her mission to break the taboos about discussing menstruation, masturbation and sexual awakenings. Unlike Luke Wright, McNish reads all of her poems directly from the page, a move that imbues an intimate, an almost conspiratorial sense of sharing with her performance. And yet, whilst the candid and confessional anecdotes which punctuate her set appear spontaneous and unfiltered, they, too, are cleverly constructed and obviously well rehearsed.
 
The pieces that she picks out for tonight are largely from her latest collection, 'Slug, and other things I've been told to hate'. However, she begins with the frank and hilarious 'Yanking', lifted from 2017's collection, 'Plum'. Then there are the poems about her Grandma, who she clearly adored; personal memories of growing up, and of parenting; and her taboo-busting pieces about first periods and safe sex. Her poetry is candid, honest and acessible, yet is also politically-charged. It is filled with humanity, yet is unafraid to challenge the pseudo-sentimentality of collective grief. Contrasting poems about the death of Queen Elizabeth ('Grandchild'), and her beloved Grandma's first overseas trip to Italy ('Culaccino'), reveal the two very different sides of Hollie McNish.
 
This was a memorable first visit to The Corn Hall, for sure. I have now joined the venue's mailing list, and look forard to returning soon, both to this charming market town, and to its wonderfully welcoming venue. As MC Hammer might put it, 'U Can't Touch Diss'.