In short
Podcast Summary: This Cultural Life - Michael Rosen
Episode Overview In this episode of *This Cultural Life*, host John Wilson engages in a deep conversation with Michael Rosen, a celebrated author, poet, and performer. Known for his humorous and poignant children's literature, including the iconic *We're Going on a Bear Hunt*, Rosen discusses his life, influences, and the profound impact of personal tragedies.
Key Themes and Discussions
Early Influences
- Parenting and Household:
- Rosen grew up in a literary household with parents who were ardent members of the British Communist Party until 1957.
- The family home was filled with books, including political literature and classic English texts, which greatly influenced his love for reading and writing.
- Cultural Inspirations:
- A pivotal cultural influence for Rosen was Pieter Bruegel's painting *Netherlandish Proverbs*, which depicts ordinary people in comical situations representing various proverbs. This painting sparked his imagination, linking to the oral culture and wisdom of the people.
Artistic Development
- Poetic Beginnings:
- Michael began writing poetry after being introduced to dramatic monologues in school, particularly Robert Browning's *My Last Duchess*.
- His early work was inspired by poets like Gerard Manley Hopkins and D.H. Lawrence, leading to his own experimentation with language and poetic forms.
- First Publications:
- His first published work was a play titled *Backbone*, released when he was just 20 years old.
- He later found success with children's literature, notably with *We’re Going on a Bear Hunt*, which emerged from folk traditions.
Personal Tragedy and Transformation
- Impact of Eddie’s Death:
- Rosen's son, Eddie, died tragically at the age of 18, fundamentally altering Michael's perspective on life and writing.
- This loss shifted his work, leading him to explore themes of grief and sorrow alongside humor, enriching his storytelling.
- Experience with Covid-19:
- Rosen shared his near-fatal encounter with Covid-19, which brought about a renewed urgency in his creative process and work ethic.
Continued Influence and Legacy
- The Role of Humor:
- Throughout his career, Rosen has successfully intertwined humor with serious themes, making his writing resonate with both children and adults.
- Modern Adaptations:
- His son’s suggestion to film his poetry for YouTube introduced him to a new audience, highlighting the evolving nature of literature and performance in the digital age.
- Cultural Responsibility:
- Michael expresses his intent to address important themes, such as Jewish history and personal loss in literature for children, aiming to create a dialogue around difficult topics.
Conclusion Michael Rosen's journey is marked by a rich tapestry of cultural influences, personal experiences, and a commitment to conveying complex emotions through accessible language. His conversation with John Wilson reflects not only on his achievements but also on the enduring impact of loss, love, and the power of storytelling. Through his work, Rosen continues to inspire generations, blending the joys of childhood with the realities of life.
Written by AI. May contain mistakes. Listen to the episode to check what was said.
Transcript
Automatic transcript. May contain errors.0:00BBC Sounds. Music, radio, podcasts.
0:12Welcome to This Cultural Life, the series in which leading creative people reveal the formative influences and experiences that inspired their own work. I'm John Wilson and my guest in this episode is the author, poet and performer Michael Rosen. He's also a broadcaster, known to Radio 4 listeners as the host of Word of Mouth. After publishing his first collection of poetry nearly 50 years ago, Michael became one of Britain's best-loved and most prolific children's authors, with dozens of books to his name. He's best known, of course, for We're Going on a Bear Hunt, the story of a family outing, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury.
0:47He served as the Children's Laureate and in 2023 was awarded the Penn Pinter Prize, the citation noting his ability to address the most serious matters in life in a spirit of joy, humour and hope.
1:05Michael Rosen, welcome to This Cultural Life. Thanks for having me, John. We're going to be digging back through your life, Michael, as listeners will well know. Of course, you nearly died from Covid a couple of years ago. How are you now? Well, luckily you're on my right-hand side because that means I can see you with my right eye and I can hear you with my right ear. If somehow or other by mistake we'd positioned ourselves differently, I'd have been craning my neck round because I can't really see with the left eye and I can't really hear with the left ear which I sometimes tell children when I'm in schools I can't hear with my left eye and I can't see with my left ear and see how long it takes for them to get it.
1:44You talked extensively about the experience of going through of spending all that time in hospital and the coma as well and the treatment and the recovery. How has the experience changed the way you work do you think? Maybe a little more urgently perhaps slight sense of you know mortality so this morning oh really a lot of people might say oh you're expecting to slow down but in fact you're speeding up with you yes I mean this morning I was footling about a bit and then I suddenly thought now hang on I'm in the middle of this poem cycle I'm writing for a book that I'm doing look I've got about an hour before I leave the house hey I'm going to do this I think before I got ill I might have gone nah do it this evening thankfully your life did go on and you're still with us but let's take you right back Back to the beginning.
2:28You were born in Harrow in North London. For somebody so associated with words and with language, was it a household full of books growing up? Oh, it was, yes. In fact, my friends used to come over and they couldn't believe it. So it was in the suburbs. It was Pinner, actually, and we lived in a flat over an estate agent. Not my parents, I rushed to say. They were teachers. And the rooms were full of books and my friends used to come over and go, wow, look at all these books. There's even books in the toilet. I think we used to call it the lavatory, didn't we? There's books in the lavatory. And then they would say, has your dad read all those?
3:06And I'd say, yeah, and my mum. And they couldn't believe it. They used to go along the shelves sort of wondering how anybody could have read so many books. What were the books in your household library? Well, my dad had studied English at university so there was loads of old stuff, you know, like Beowulf, very musty from the 1930s with these notes all over them, and I used to stare at those. We used to play games with the Oxford English Dictionary. There were two volumes. It was the shorter, as my dad would call it. Let's get the shorter down, Mick. And then we used to play a game where I had to read out a word and he had to give the definition, and you'd make up completely bogus definitions, and we would just be absolutely killing ourselves with laughter.
3:49There was a lot of old political stuff. The orange covers of the Left Book Club. I can see whole shelves full of those. Your parents were both communists, weren't they? Yeah, they were up until 1957. But the Left Book Club, which wasn't officially communist, it was Labour, Socialist, and so there were whole rows of these. And I remember thinking, why are all these books orange? You know, about seven years old. And you say your parents were both communist card-carrying members until 1957. What happened then? Well, Hungary happened. Right, of course. And it happened at a moment that I'll never forget, really, because we were in Trafalgar Square demonstrating against the British and French invasion of Egypt and Suez.
4:27And I can, in my mind's eye, mind's ear actually, I can hear Nye Bevan speaking in the distance. You begin to restore the tarnished reputation. And that is to get out, get out, get out! And I'm dabbling around in the water in the fountain. And then suddenly somebody came up to my parents and said, They've gone in. The tanks have gone in. They've reached Budapest. And then I racked back in my mind as a 10-year-old, Budapest? Is that in Egypt? But your parents left the Communist Party then in protest at the invasion, the Soviet invasion. More or less, yes. I think they left it a few months while they argued about it.
5:07And then there was this memorable moment when my parents asked me and my brother into the front room, into the sitting room, and this is very rare, we didn't get one of these type of conversations usually, and my dad said, we're leaving the party. And I remember thinking, what is this? Well, I had no idea really what it meant. I didn't really understand why it was so important to them, and basically it was the end of a dream for them. I mean, they had joined the Communist Party aged 17 when it seemed to them that the Communist Party was defending them against fascists in the east end of London.
5:45They're Jewish. Moseley was not only trying to march through the East End, but there would be people standing on street corners, jeering and shouting and pushing, and even worse, occasionally throwing things and so on. And they had to run the gauntlet of that. I mean, my dad used to make a bit of a joke about it. He used to say when he was courting my mum, he had to go from behind the London hospital up to Bethnal Green. And he said, oh, the risk I took to go up to Bethnal Green, sort of outside of the Jewish quarter, if you like. and Mum would say, oh shush, you know, you always make a drama of everything.
6:18Were they part of that Battle of Cable Street then? I think it was their first date, John. Quite literally, yes. When it was the communists and the socialists and local people confronting the fascists who were arriving on the streets. October 4th, 1936, we were told the story, me and my brother, many, many times over. Passing the Tower of London, 5 ,000 fascists rally to their mobilisation for the much-advertised march through the East End. in step here thousands of east enders prepare to resist the invasion barricading the path the fascists would take six thousand police are already concentrated in the area others are rushed to reinforce them communists laborites and jews jam the fascist route i think it was a sort of glorious moment for them personally it was when they got together also socially politically culturally that this was a moment when they stood up and said no you cannot march through here Oswald Mosley
7:17and in fact Mosley and the British Union of Fascists were kept away towards the Tower of London in Mansell Street and never in fact were able to walk down Cable Street but my parents had another funny story about it which was that all sorts of barricades were going up and famously my parents got caught on the wrong side of the barricades and some mounted police were coming towards them and they were getting very nervous when suddenly a door opened and they were pulled inside. So my parents always used to temper this heroism with a little bit of anticlimax. It was a Jewish household as well, as you've already said.
7:51How important was faith to the family? Faith not at all, but what's called Yiddishkeit, that's to say Jewishness, very important. My parents used to talk about being Jewish. They used to use lots and lots of Yiddish words. In fact, a leap ahead by many, many years, I've started going to Yiddish classes. Before going to Yiddish classes, they asked us, how much Yiddish do you know? And I thought, well, about 20 or 30 words, maybe. And so I sat down at my computer and I wrote down every Yiddish word or expression that I could remember that my parents told me, and it came to very nearly 300. Do you need to go to class?
8:28I do. Oh, yes, I do. I'm actually bottom of the class. Are you going to put it to some kind of literary use, do you think? I hope to translate some poems. I mean, most of them have been translated already, but never mind, I will do it. And turns like some of yours into Yiddish, maybe. Oh, that's a thought. Hey, no, I hadn't thought of that. Come on, Michael. Yes. We're going on a bear hunt in Yiddish. That's already been done. Oh, is it? Yeah, you see. So there we are. You see people are at one jump, two jumps, eight jumps ahead of me, which is the story of my life, really.
8:59On this programme, I ask my guests to choose some of the most important influences and experiences that have shaped their own creativity. and your first choice is a painting by Bruegel. It's the Netherlandish Proverbs. When did you first see the painting? Well, I should think when I was nought, because my dad, I think, had acquired some great big reproductions of paintings from the 16th century. There was a Kranach, I think it's the one called The Stag Hunt, and this Netherlandish Proverbs painting. It really is quite extraordinary, because what Bruegel has done is people, a huge canvas, at least it seemed to be huge to me looking up at it, and hundreds and hundreds of people acting out proverbs.
9:43So if you think casting, not pearls, in this case it's flowers, I think, before swine, then it's there. No use crying over spilt milk. Somebody's spilling some milk. Somebody's spilling some milk. It's no use banging your head against a wall. It's no use tiling a house with pies. But to the delight of my friends, there's some rude ones. So not only did they come over to the house and go, look at all these books, they said, let's look at Mick's rude paintings. So they used to all come over... And spotting the tiny figures doing rude things. Well, and it's not all that rude, but I suppose, you know, 1950s Pinner, it seemed rude.
10:20So there's a man, sort of, in a first-storey window, and there's an inside of a moon, and his hand seems to be around his waist, sort of waist level, and in fact he's peeing on the moon. Oh, right. Where is that one? We've both got to say we've got a photocopy of the painting. On the left, there's a building. Yeah, I've got him. And the proverb is something like, who does he think he is? He thinks he can pee on the moon. He's literally peeing on the moon. And there is, in fact, you can't see it in your little repro, but a little dotted line. And so my friends used to go, look, you can see the pee.
10:52And they'd get really excited. But even more exciting, if you look to the doors, two bottoms coming out of what used to be called a Jake's or a John in the olden days. and then loads of blokes trying to get into the loo, backing into it. Do you see? They're all backing and they've pulled their hose down, you know, their tights, they've pulled them down, they're all trying to get in. And the proverb being, they all think they can shh in the same John. And, of course, my mates used to think this was hysterical. You know, the idea of loads of people backing into a toilet with their trousers down.
11:26It's a very literal representation of proverbs. Did you understand what the proverbs were at the time, do you think? We had a guide. Oh, really? So there was a book. It had the reproduction and a tissue paper, cellophane piece of paper with numbers. So if it said 16 and then you looked across... Oh, I see, right. ..and then you saw 16. And so my friends used to paw over this as well and go, look, look, there. It is a sensational painting because it's an expression of Low Countries culture at that time. It's the genius of the people, their proverbs. This isn't written culture, he's alluding to.
12:01It's the oral culture of the people of the Netherlands, well, indeed, of Northern Europe, you might say. And at the same time, these scenes are very down-to-earth. These are very ordinary people. All life is here. It feels like it. Which I can imagine appeals to you now. But why did your parents have it on the wall, do you think? Because they were great believers in the wisdom of the people, if you like. so one of their favourite poets was Carl Sandburg and Carl Sandburg wrote a book which he called We the People which was made up of people's sayings and you can almost marry that poem and that book up against this painting and also they loved traditional songs and music so the first music I can remember was Burl Ives and the moment I say that I can hear Burl Ives singing Lolly too dumb, Lolly too dumb I went out one morning to take the pleasant air Lolly-Doo-Dum, too-dum, Lolly-Doo-Dum day My dad used to sing French, German, he loved German folk songs, Italian.
13:09So my head is full of various forms of popular culture, if you like. So your parents saw this as a political artwork in a way. It was depicting everyday life. Obviously it's full of life. It's comic as well. Is that why you've chosen it as an influence? Because all of those aspects can be read into your own work, do you think? Yes. I mean, it's not why I chose it. I chose it because it's so in my face. You know, if you say, Michael, sit yourself down in the living room in your house when you're 5, 6, 7, 8, 12, 15, then, bomp, this is what comes up in my mind, alongside a carpet that I used to love digging my fingers into and the courtier stove that my dad used to kind of sit in front of and pray at almost.
13:51Do you know what I mean? And so, yes, a comic. Indeed, I was introduced to comedy very early on. My parents used to love Peter Ostinov, Dennis Norden, Frank Muir. Absolute obligatory listening. So there was a lot of comedy. And both mum and dad were very good at being mimics of imitating accents and voices. And my brother as well. You've painted such a vivid picture of family life. I mean, it sounds, in a way, quite an eccentric household as well. And all of these different interests that your parents have, the academic interest, the political interest, the sense of humour as well. Did that make you something?
14:24I'm wondering what sort of child you were. Were you regarded as different as a child? Were you quite an odd child? I don't think I was regarded as particularly odd up until about the age of 11. I mean at school. Yeah, that's right. But I think things changed when I went to secondary school. And I got in with a group who I can only describe as sort of school surrealists. and there was a whole group of us and we entertained ourselves and whoever happened to want to be anywhere near us. We just got up to all sorts of pranks and crazy stuff. I mean, I'll take one example. You know, there were school lunches where you all had to sit down to eat school lunch and a group of us decided to come in one day with our own lunches and candelabras and we somehow or other got hold of those red ropes with little hooks on the ends and we got pictures of the Queen and Winston Churchill and we suddenly whipped these out of our bags and had a banquet in the middle of the school hall.
15:24And, of course, there was a riot. The whole school came rushing towards us to see us and we were going, cheers, here's to Winston Churchill. And I can remember the deputy head after it was all over. She blamed it all on me, as it happens, and it really wasn't my idea. But anyway, she came up to me and she said, I don't think you realise, Rosen, that the point of a grammar school and the point of being a grammar school pupil is that you must learn how to conform. I thought that sort of explained quite a lot as to why there was a difference between the school surrealists and the ethos, if you like, of Harrowield County Grammar School.
15:56When did you first start taking an interest in poetry and writing poetry? The very first time was when Miss Grant came in and said, today we're going to do dramatic monologues. Is this an English class? Yes. And then she took out Robert Browning's The Poem That Is Usually Called My Last Duchess, though in fact I think Browning called it something else like Ferrara. That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, looking as if she were alive. I call that piece a wonder now. Fra Pandolf's hands worked busily a day, and there she stands. It's a sensational poem. Spoiler alert coming, for those of you who don't know the poem, is that as you read it, and it's the Duke talking, you realise that he's probably done away with the Duchess.
16:42he's killed her and possibly some others as well but you don't know that and he never says that and so the irony of the poem and why it's full of dramatic irony you know do you know more anyway all that stuff and I remember thinking this is genius I just thought this was the cleverest thing that I'd ever read in my whole life I was about 13 and then at the end of the lesson Miss Grant said now go home and write a dramatic monologue and I just I loved that I went home and and I wrote something, I mean, quite extraordinary and odd, a poem about a bloke standing on a beach and he's not being merciful to somebody who's pleading for his life.
17:24And so I sort of picked up the kind of morbid quality of the Browning. But where it came from in my imagination, I've no idea. So that's responding to a challenge. What about writing poetry for yourself, about wanting to express something of yourself through words? So we come now to O-level GCSEs these days, and on my O-level course, we had the Pageant of Modern Verse, poems by D.H. Lawrence included Snake, Bat, Man and Bat. And I loved these. I just thought, they're not exactly dramatic monologues, but they are monologues, you know, and D.H. Lawrence is both in the moment and outside of the moment.
18:05when I describe it to students I say D.H. Lawrence was able to capture the idea that he's walking along beside himself in the swimming pool. So in the poem Man and Bat he encounters a bat and he somehow or other discovers he's got a kind of ancient fear of bats. So around about this time I was in my bedroom so now we go up to the next floor above the living room in the flat in Pinner, and the windows open and a moth has flown in. And I remember batting the moth away, and then I think I killed it. And then I thought, I could write a poem like the D.H. Lawrence poem, and I called it Moth. So did you then start writing your own poetry without referring to some of the great poets?
18:48When did you start becoming an original writer? Yes, I've still got it, actually. I've got a red notebook, and I started writing poems a bit like D.H. Lawrence, a bit like Carl Sandburg. Carl Sandburg does a lot of stuff of children talking, parents talking to children. Why do the children put beans in their ears when the one thing we told them not to do was put beans in their ears? You know, that's a Carl Sandburg line. And I started sort of writing down things that my mum and dad had said, like, never let me see you doing that again. And I would write these things out in different ways. And also, I absolutely love Gerard Manley Hopkins.
19:27The idea that you could get hold of words and just stretch them and break them and make them mean things. You know, dappled, dawn, drawn, falcon. I mean, what is a dappled, dawn, drawn, falcon? Well, he's talking about the wind hover. And he's, you know, I caught this morning, morning's minion, kingdom of daylights, dauphin, dappled, dawn, drawn, falcon. And he's got something about the underneath him riding steady air. He's breaking the grammar. He's breaking the syntax. And I just thought, wow, you could do that. And I did experiment quite a lot with that. I mean, nobody was interested in those as it happens, but I've still got those tucked away, sort of gathering dust in the Red Notebook.
20:06When did you first get published? What happened? Well, actually, the very first book was... I was still at university. I wrote a play called Backbone, and it got published by Faber. I was only 20, but then there's a bit of a pause, and I'm scribbling these poems, beginning to develop a kind of voice of my own. And I was hawking these around and tried Faber because they had published the play. And they said, well, no, you know, we do T.S. Eliot. You know, we don't do this bloke, Michael Rosen. But anyway, they went on being hawked and they landed up at a kind of bohemian publishers called Andre Deutsch, not existing anymore, and a wonderful woman called Pam Roids, who said, oh, I like these.
20:46Have you ever heard of somebody called Quentin Blake? And so I then met up with Quentin. and he liked the poems and I can remember, I can see him, he had a great big sheet of paper in front of him and he got me to read the poems and as I read them he sort of drew me you know, I was describing, you know, hiding behind the door and my brother coming into the bedroom and me kind of whacking him over the head with a pillow and he would draw that, you see, and he was laughing quite a lot as well maybe the piece of paper was filled with about 30 or 40 little vignettes like this and I then went over to look at it and I laughed I said, oh, that's it, you've got it, you see.
21:23And ever since then, I've always thought what's brilliant about Quentin is that he kind of mimes onto the page. I think of him as a mime artist. It just so happens he doesn't mime, he draws. And sometimes he's done pictures, which is at least four extra jokes on top of my poems. And I look at them and I just so admire them and I so love them. But did you need that for the poems to succeed, for them to be published, for this partnership to start, do you think, for the visual representation of what you were writing? I think so. Poems are very bald on the page. They seem to start in mid-air. So one of my poems in that book begins, I share my bedroom with my brother and I don't like it.
22:01OK? But who? Who? If you're an eight-year-old, what do you mean, I? Who's I? And who's your brother? And why should we care whether you like it or not? So it's like a curious sort of mid-thing. And then it goes on about his bed's by the window under my map of England's wellways that's got a hole in where his friend Tony Sanders, he says, once killed a Roman soldier. Boom! With the Radio Times. Boom! That's me performing it. When I'm performing it, I can do a little intro. I can say, you know, this is me when I'm nine or something, or a bit younger. You're illustrating it, and you're doing it here for me right now with your hands, you're performing.
22:39And that's what Quentin did on the page. But if you've got that boldly on the page and you're an eight or nine-year-old, it's sort of, like, dislocated. We talked earlier about the influence of folk music on your work. There is, of course, a folk song vibe to your best-loved poem, We're Going On A Bear Hunt. Do you remember how Bear Hunt started, the very first moment? Well, indeed, it is a folk song in various forms. The Brownies go on a lion hunt. In America, they go on bear hunts, but in their version, there's a gun involved, and quite often the version ends when they get to the bear. I can remember a wonderful Scots folk singer, Alison McMorland doing it.
23:18And so I was getting it from various directions. And then I was performing it in a school. And the artistic director of Walker Books came to see my show, you see. And I thought, I wonder whether he wants to publish any of my poems. Anyway, he comes up to me in the end. He says, that bear hunt thing at the end, that would make a really good book. Can we do that? And I said, yeah, you write it down. He said, no, you write it down. I said, no, you write it down. I said, no, he said, you write it down. We stood there arguing. I said, you write it down. I said, I want you to write it down. So I went away, and I immediately discovered that when I perform it, even now, when we go through the grass, I go...
23:56When I go through the mud, I go... I have a whole little routine with the boots getting stuck in the mud. Like that. Well, you can't write that. You've got to come up with some words. Anyway, so I did that and came up with Swishy Swashy. And also, I hadn't said long wavy grass or things like that. I had to find some other descriptions anyway. and so I then handed it over and they did say how do you think that might be a picture and I said I thought maybe it could be like carnival there'd be kings and queens and dancers and all this and then maybe a bloke in a bear suit and they went hmm it's not quite what we've got in mind Mike so I went alright okay and we'll get Helen Oxenbury to do it and I thought wow Helen Oxenbury I read her books to my kids and these wonderful board books of babies playing and all the rest of it.
24:46And I thought, oh, wow, this is going to be amazing. And then about two years later, I think as long as that, I got this phone call and it was almost the sound of someone weeping at the other end saying, you've got to come in, Michael. You've never seen anything like this. People get very emotional in the children's book world and that's why I love it, actually. And so I went in to Walker Books and taken upstairs to a darkened room and there are these paintings, these incredible paintings on handmade paper of what looks to me like a family holiday in Cornwall. And I'm thinking, where's the bear?
25:23Are there any bears in Cornwall? You see how literalist and tedious I'm being now, I'm really ignorant. And as they move each sheet, the breathing's getting kind of faster, you know. Isn't it incredible? Isn't it incredible? I'm trying to keep up with the level of emotion going on here. and then they said, it's going to be an incredible book and I didn't dare say, is it? And then I went home. Did you not know straight away? Did you not look at those drawings? I am professing to complete clod-hopping Philistinism. I had no idea how this would work and then the book came out and there was this huge kind of explosion of love for the book.
Read the full transcript
26:04I've described to you how books are made. They're joint collective enterprises but the root of it from that moment when David Lloyd spotted me doing it I can go all the way back to my dad singing Burl Ives me hanging around with Ewan McColl for three or four years in the Critics Group which I did for a few years and in fact Ewan always spoke about people being carriers he didn't only talk about singers it's interesting, Ewan spoke about people as being carriers of songs and I just remember thinking when the book came out that at that moment I was a carrier and the reason why I was interested in it, you want to go all the way back to Netherlandish Proverbs, I'm saying that's in the genius of the people.
26:49The people come up with these wonderful phrases and sometimes narratives and I was lucky enough to be there at that moment when David Lloyd saw me.
27:02Your next choice for this programme is about moving on artistically. It's a suggestion made by your son that you start filming some of your poems for YouTube, giving you a new platform. What happened? He came to me and he said, hey, why don't we film you doing some of your poems? And I said, well, there'll be a bit of a problem because they're covered by copyright and all the rest of it. But one book's out of print. It's called The Hypnotiser. So, hey, why don't we make like a video book? And then we went to some old warehouse. I'm not quite sure why we were in a warehouse was that his office?
27:39I don't know but anyway we went to a warehouse and we had camera sound go dad and then dad away I went and I performed all these poems and we kind of waited and then I'd sort of count the views you know 20 today we've got 20 views and then something very strange happened I got discovered by American teenage boys which on the one hand is very nice because they were very excited by it, but then they decided to chop them up, do mash-ups, or what they call YouTube poops, some of which are funny, some of which are utterly obscene, and some of which were, I'm afraid to say, anti-Semitic, and I've done my best to get those taken down.
28:18I think it succeeded pretty well. But one poem in particular seemed to have caught their imagination, which goes like this. We sit down to eat, and the potato's a bit hot, so I only put a little bit on my fork and I blow, till it's cool, just cool, into the mouth. Nice. And there's my brother. He's doing the same. Till it's cool, just cool, into the mouth. Nice. And there's my mum. She's doing the same. Till it's cool, just cool, into the mouth. Nice. But my dad, what does my dad do? He stuffs a great big chunk of potato into his mouth, and that really does it. His eyes pop out, he blows, he puffs, he yells, he bobs his head up and down.
29:06He even spits bits of potato onto the plate. And he turns to us and he says, watch out, everybody, the potato's really hot. OK, so when I did that poem... Sorry. I thought, you see, the last line is the giveaway, because it is the funny bit, because that was the way my dad was. He didn't notice anything we were doing, and he sits there going, watch out, everybody. So we used to take the mickey out of him. These lads thought what was funny was me going, nice. And they created a meme out of it. And then because they're Americans, American kids who say nice, they thought I was saying noice. So they put up a subtitle under me going nice with N-O-I-C-E, noice.
29:52Nice. Nice. Nice. Nice.
30:00This has become crazy. I think it's been seen by something like 100 million people. And now, you know what happens? I promise you, I'm not joking, John, I get stopped in the street by nearly always slightly leery 16-year-olds who then come rushing towards me with their phones going, do it, do it. They don't even say what. They go, do it, go on, now, do it, do it. And I'm standing in the street, I promise you, anywhere I go and I'm going, nice. Do you just do the word nice or do you do the whole thing? That's all I want. And then they go off. They don't even ask me my name. They don't want the whole poem.
30:29No, no, no, no way. But it gets more complicated. OK, I've been discovered in China. Right. OK, I teach university. We get a lot of Chinese students. Beginning of the year, 20 illustration students, all Chinese, all women, suddenly rushed towards me and they went, you're a nice grandpa, nice grandpa. And they were holding up their phones. Say it, say it. Michael, how does that make you feel, you know, having published 140 books and being translated into languages all around the world that you are now best remembered for the single word nice? It's double-edged, isn't it? I mean, in a way, I'm immensely proud because it's thanks to my lovely boy, Joe.
31:06He spotted this idea that, you know, dad can turn in a bit of a performance and that you could put it up on YouTube. Other channels are available. And I did write that one, and it does somehow or other got a link with my dear dad and home and the jokes that we used to have. I guess it sort of makes me quite proud. On the other hand, I mean, it's just, mad, you know, I'm sitting on a bus on the way here, right? I promise you, on the way here, I'm sitting on the bus and I can hear some guys behind me and I think, I know what's going to happen now, and I suddenly heard noise.
31:41I mean, you know, and it's lovely and people are not horrid about it. So this late career global fame is thanks to your son, Joe, for putting you on YouTube. It is. Michael, we haven't talked about your other son, Eddie, who tragically died very suddenly in 1999 at the age of 18 and you've written about his life, you've written about your grief. That sense of loss, I'm sure, is ongoing. You can never get over something like that. But do you have now a different perspective on how the loss of Eddie has informed the work that you've done in the years since, do you think, and the person that you are?
32:18Yes. I mean, I think up until Eddie died, I was always and only really looking for kind of comedic, absurdist sort of ironic things they didn't necessarily have to make people laugh but I was always looking for sort of irony about things and I think after Eddie died as you say in 1999 and I'd written about him as a very funny little toddler in Quick Let's Get Out of Here and that was to make children laugh it really was, I mean it was comedic And actually, before Eddie died, I used to then tell children that Eddie had got so big that he could now carry me. So whereas I'd have a little scene where I'd be carrying Eddie, I'd say then he became six foot two, six foot three, six foot four.
33:04I think he's six foot five now and he can whirl me around. And I would say, can you imagine that? When you're bigger, you could whirl your dad around, you see. And I remember doing that show on the day before Eddie died. I remember doing that. and I think the moment he died of course I couldn't do those funny poems and I couldn't tell that story for a whole period and I even find it quite difficult to do now I will do it occasionally if children ask me to and I think since then I've sort of explored ideas around sorrow
33:42or less of the kind of wry smile sometimes which I've looked at, but just sort of how you face sorrowful things. And I have sort of addressed that, either in relation to just grief and puzzlement as to why the world is the way it is, if you like, but also in relation to lost relatives during the war. There were two French uncles and an aunt in France and uncles and aunts in Poland, all of whom got wiped out during the war. And I've written about that. And I just wonder, you know, I don't think I would have written about that if Eddie hadn't died. Do you know, I think I would have said, maybe written about it for adults, but I wouldn't have written about it for children.
34:24But I felt that I could because I'd written the sad book about Eddie. It sort of gave me, I gave myself permission to write about how I discovered that my relatives died. Because you already had an insight to loss and to grief and to that sort of sense of disbelief. disbelief. And thinking about the way my parents dealt with that because my dad would say, quite mournfully, I had two French uncles before the war and they weren't there at the end of the war. And then mum would get a bit irritated with him and she would say, oh, don't dwell on it. She'd say, you can't do anything about it. And it was never discussed.
35:04What point did you realise that the whole swath of family had been murdered by the Nazis? I would say, how did they die? And he would say, in the camps. I didn't really find out about the camps and so on until secondary school, sometimes in conversations with my Jewish mates at school. And then also a very striking moment when I was a student at university, and the awful film Le Chagrin et la Pitié came out, The Sorrow and the Pity, which is a huge long film about how France was during the Second World War. and while we watched it, me and my dad, right up late till night, no video recording, so it started about 11 o 'clock, went on till about 1 or 2 in the morning and it was quite emotional actually because there's a point in the film where there's a guy in the resistance who intervenes and looks after some Jews, he saves them and so on and I can remember my dad crying and me being upset and that was sort of a bit of a turning point for me, that film of saying, well I must try and find out and so I've spent the last 30 years finding out and then thinking, I must share it with children.
36:09It's interesting, isn't it? Because you are in many ways such a comic character and there's a great physicality to your performance. But as you've suggested there with the exploration of what happened to your family and also what you've written about, what happened to you in the Covid crisis, nearly dying, and going back to Eddie as well, there is a great seam of sadness that's run through a lot of your work, hasn't there? In fact, I did write in the same book as I wrote about Eddie being a funny toddler, a very odd occasion, a very sad occasion in my life as a kid, that I was 10 and my brother 14, and we're sitting on the floor in that living room with the Netherlandish Proverbs behind us, and there's a box of photographs, and we're taking photographs out of this box.
36:59They weren't in albums. We're a bit chaotic. And I find a picture of my mum, OK, with a baby on her knee, you see. And I say to my dad, who, by the way, because they were communists, I couldn't call dad. He had to be Harold. So I said, Harold, OK, 10-year-old, OK, all in the collective, you see, all equals. So I say, Harold, is that me or is that Brian, my brother? And my dad took it off me and he said, actually, that isn't either of you. That's Alan. He died. he died during the war. And I remember saying, what did he die of? And my dad saying, whooping cough. I was away in the army, the American army that is in Berlin, and he coughed himself to death in Connie's arms.
37:46They didn't have the medicines to deal with it. And I remember this moment partly because my mother never, ever mentioned it. I mean, not ever, ever. There were no pictures, no pictures in the house, no grave. They didn't ever light what's called in the Isher Jurtzeitlicht, that's literally a year-time light, an anniversary candle. They never lit a candle for him. They never said anything about him. My dad occasionally, and when Eddie died, we had a sort of rather blokey kind of across-the-table-y thing about me and you were sort of in the same shoes thing. I mean, he was wonderful when Eddie died.
38:31I mean, it's quite extraordinary. But there's a mystery of my mum that she didn't say anything and no mark of any kind. And you've never found out why? Well, no, my mum died when she was only 56, when I was 30, and I never had that conversation with her. I mean, it's a matter of huge regret to me that I never said to her, Mum, shall we talk about that? But I just, maybe I got the warning sign. You know, like you look at your parents' faces. You look at them and you know whether you can say something or not. There are times when you go, right, maybe this is going to be OK now. And the rest of the time you go, just don't go there.
39:18Just don't do it. Don't talk about it. And she didn't ever visibly show grief. The only time my mother really showed a lot of grief towards me was when my parents had this idea that when I was 16, I should go and stay in a French colony de vacances because I was going to do French A-level, you see. I was just getting ready and packed up my rucksack and feeling terribly proud of myself. I was a very rucksack-y sort of person in those times with big boots and walking boots and all that. And I was just going beavering out the house and the old man says to me, he says, what did you say, goodbye to your mother?
39:51I said, yeah, I did. I said to her, I said, no, go and say goodbye to your mother. And then when I went to see her, she was crying. I thought, why is she crying? I don't think either my mother or my father explained to me why she was crying. Because, you know, I've been away before. I went youth hostelling with Malk for a week in Wales. You know, come on, this time it's just six weeks. It's no big deal. And I'm 16, goodness sake. And off I went. And I've often figured this out. It was, I should say, about the only time that I saw her sort of cry at me, with me, if you like. And all I can say, but I mean, I don't know, is that, you see, I'm the child who came after, aren't I?
40:34And that one of her great fears would be that I'd go as well. And there I was going. I mean, I'm only guessing that. I don't know. But, I mean, she did treat me differently from my brother in the sense she was very... almost over-caring. All of these experiences, Michael, have fed into your work over the years, whether that's the family life and the comedy of that and the grief and the loss. And you continue to work. You've written over 200 books and you're still performing and teaching and doing workshops. What drives you on now? Is it a different urge to when you first started writing poetry?
41:15I think now, actually, there's nothing else to do. Do you know what I mean? I wake up in the morning and I never quite know what I'm doing today until I look in the diary, you see. So I looked in the diary this morning and it said bank, post office, and then, afternoon, this cultural life. So I thought, well, I'll do the bank and the post office on the way to this cultural life, so what will I do this morning? and so I thought, all right, well I might as well write something and then I'll go home this evening and say, well what am I doing tomorrow? So I don't think I'll just sit about, that's what you do.
41:53I mean it is linked to the grief and linked to my own near-death experience in the sense that I'm someone who believes very strongly in the talking cure, the writing cure, but also the doing cure. and after Eddie died actually this place, the BBC the folks working here I was doing word of mouth which incidentally Eddie loved he used to say, heard you very funny, not the last bit though that was quite boring great critic he was and the people here were amazing the producers it's just the way in which I could see that they knew that Eddie died but they gave me things to do. That may seem terribly obvious but there are times when you don't want people to say how are you?
42:43How are you coping? Are you alright? And just say, well okay, so in this programme or it could be any kind of work and the fact that they did that in that kind of quiet, caring way I'll never forget. It was amazing. It was amazing. Michael Rosen, thank you so much for sharing your cultural life with us. Thanks very much, John. Thank you.
43:15Hello, I'm Nick Robinson. I want to tell you about my Radio 4 podcast, Political Thinking. It is about why people think the things they think. What is it in their lives, their backgrounds, that explains who they are and what they believe? My mum was a very community-minded person. That's what brought politics to life for me, actually. These are conversations, not newsy interrogations. Lucky, ruthless, probably a better both. And they're not just about rows or problems. They're quite often about the good politics can do. There is nothing like government. Good government gets things done. That is what democracy is all about.
43:54That's Political Thinking with me, Nick Robinson. Listen now on BBC Sounds.
From the publisher
Author, poet and performer Michael Rosen is one of Britain’s best loved and most prolific children’s writers, having published hundreds of books over nearly fifty years, including his much-loved We’re Going On Bear Hunt, the story of an exciting family outing, illustrated by Helen Oxenbury. As a broadcaster he is well known to Radio 4 listeners as the host of Word of Mouth. He was appointed as Children’s Laureate in 2007 and was awarded the PEN Pinter Prize in 2023, the citation noting his “ability to address the most serious matters of life in a spirit of joy, humour and hope”.
In conversation with John Wilson, Michael recalls the early influence of his parents, who were both active members of the British Communist Party, and the many books that lined the walls of the Rosen family home. He chooses, as a key cultural inspiration, a reproduction of a 16th century painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder called Netherlandish Proverbs. Depicting ordinary people in various comic situations which represented well-known proverbs of the day, it captured the imagination of young Michael and his friends. He reveals how he started writing his own poetry in response to works by Gerard Manley Hopkins and D H Lawrence whilst at school, and remembers how We’re Going On A Bear Hunt was inspired by various folk tales from around the world. Michael also discusses the impact on his work of the death of his son Eddie at the age of 18 in 1999, and in discovering more about the fate of Jewish family members during the Holocaust.
Producer: Edwina Pitman



