From Our Own Fire

By William Letford

This prose and poetry tour de force of storytelling has the narrative punch of a novel. It is a new departure for the poet, and for poetry itself. It takes the reader into the not-too-distant future: an artificial intelligence rules the world, and a working-class family use their wits to live off the land. William Letford blends prose and his inimitable poetry: sci-fi and hunter-gatherer are merged into a coherent story in the pages of a stonemason's journal.'You won't see the best of a Macallum until you put something in their fist,' says Letford, introducing the family. 'Joiner, nurse, stonemason, hairdresser, plumber, gardener. Lorna even repairs vintage watches. That's the quantum mechanics of manual labour.' We join the Macallum family as they combine their skills to reconnect with the land in a world where the empowered are hell-bent on creating a new utopia. Joe, the stonemason, records in his journal the struggles and successes of a carnival of characters. They hurl grace and humour at a future that is being shaped by a single, powerful entity.Letford's storytelling is gritty and beautiful. 'A Macallum, it seems to me now, is made to move, to think on the run. The sofas in our houses were sinkholes. The actors on a fifty-two-inch flat screen shadows on a cave wall.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Oct 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781800173446

William Letford

William Letford published his first collection of poetry while working as a roofer. Since then, his work has been adapted into film, projected onto buildings, carved into monuments, adapted for the stage, written onto skin, cast out over the radio, and performed by orchestras. He has helped restore a medieval village in the mountains of northern Italy, taught English in Japan, fished with his barehands in Indonesia, and been invited to perform in Iraq, South Korea, Lebanon, Australia, Germany, India, Poland, and many more countries.

Book preview

From Our Own Fire

W

illiam

L

etford

CARCANET POETRY

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Warrior

Starlings

Fireworks

Love in the wild

Advice for Andy

Christmas for Andy

Crazy can be clever

The river

Arrival at last

What we need

A friend for Andy

Where are they now

The garden

A Macallum’s answer to fashion

The first hunt

Laying the snares

Spiritual

Andy’s point of view

Double yolkers

The Michelin star

Generations

If I were Andy

A strange universe

That night

Humanity

Perspective

Interview

Family meeting

Carcass

Mirrors

Transformation

Seeing the funny side

Blankety blank

Man

Two cooks

Dinner time

The leader

My cousin Sandra

Moonlit

Peace

A changing wisdom

Soap

The dark minute

Sandra and Jason

Ascension

Burial

Blasted wonders

Not the same as before

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

for Layton, River, Eban, and Willow

The primitive forms of artificial intelligence we already have, have proved very useful. But I think the development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race. Once humans develop artificial intelligence, it would take off on its own and redesign itself at an ever-increasing rate. Humans who are limited by slow biological evolution couldn’t compete and would be superseded.

STEPHEN HAWKING

From Our Own Fire

-

It’s with a heavy heart that I report the first casualty of the journey. We camped next to a small river. Second go at setting up so we had a rough idea of what was necessary. Mary got the potatoes on the fire early so the empty-bellied arguments didn’t flare up like last night.

I was by the river with the young team collecting water. Saw the whole thing from a short distance. Mary was wearing an old jumper, frayed and bobbled, and had a long scarf wrapped around her neck. She leant over the flames to poke the potatoes with a branch. The wind kicked up and changed the shift of the fire. The scarf slipped and hung low enough to accept the flame. Unaware that the scarf was on fire, Mary flicked the loose end over her shoulder. Her hair began to spit smoke.

Mary is a woman you wouldn’t want to tackle on a battlefield. Mid-fifties and built like a berserker. The way she reacted to the chorus of, Mary you’re on fire, only enhanced the impression from my childhood. She straightened up like an Olympian. Without shouting or screaming she sprinted toward the river, heading full pelt toward us. She knew she was burning but couldn’t pinpoint where. She crossed her arms over the front of her body and grabbed the bottom of her jumper and took everything off on the move. Pulled so forcefully she hooked off the scarf, jumper, and T-shirt underneath that. Totally topless she came sprinting toward us—her nakedness bounding. Mary streaked past and plunged into the cold water.

Fourteen-year-old Douglas, Mary’s grandson, was standing directly to my right. Of all the kids he seemed the most stricken. The whole thing played havoc with the pallor of his face. Mary was fine. No damage. Even her modesty was untouched. No one laughed louder than her when she recovered her breath from the freezing water. Of course, she wasn’t the casualty. How young Douglas deals with his grandmother’s bounding nakedness will be an early test of his judgement.

Warrior

Mary sat beside me with

the edge of the fire in her eyes

She said, Absolutely mental how

everything around you will change

You think you’re sitting still

but you’re actually flying

She had attempted to sweep

her flame damaged hair

into a style that resembled normal

It hadn’t worked

The hair puffed

like a deranged halo

So scary it made me feel safe

Like I could let

my lovely aunty Mary

loose at the night

and the darkness

would take a step backwards

My father taught me everything I know about dressing stone but had trouble explaining it. Always had to sit me down and show me. His knowledge was in the motion. The memory was in his hands. I’m describing a man that would rather dance than