Biography of Craig Raine
Craig Anthony Raine FRSL (born 3 December 1944) is an English poet born in Bishop Auckland, County Durham, England. Along with Christopher Reid, he is the best-known exponent of Martian poetry. He was a former Fellow of New College, Oxford from 1991-2010 and is now Emeritus professor. He has been the editor of Areté since 1999.
He taught at Oxford and followed a literary career as book editor for New Review, editor of Quarto, and poetry editor at the New Statesman. He became poetry editor at publishers Faber and Faber in 1981, and has been a fellow of New College, Oxford since 1991, retiring from his post as tutor in June 2010.
In 1972 he married Ann Pasternak Slater, a now retired fellow of St Anne's College, Oxford. They have one daughter and three sons; Nina Raine is a noted director and playwright.
Craig Raine is founder and editor of the literary magazine Areté and a frequent contributor. His works include a number of poetry collections : The Onion, Memory (1978), A Martian Sends a Postcard Home (1979), A Free Translation (1981), Rich (1984), History: The Home Movie (1994), and Clay. Whereabouts Unknown (1996). His reviews and essays are collected in two anthologies: Haydn and the Valve Trumpet (1990) and In Defence of T. S. Eliot (2000). A short critical-biographical study of Eliot, T. S. Eliot: Image, Text and Context, was published in 2007.
His friend Ian McEwan argues that Raine espouses: "very strong and clear, almost Arnoldian, ideas of literature and criticism".
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Craig Raine Poems
A Martian Sends A Postcard Home
Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings and some are treasured for their markings -- they cause the eyes to melt
The Onion, Memory
Divorced, but friends again at last, we walk old ground together in bright blue uncomplicated weather. We laugh and pause
'and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence' -- George Eliot, Middlemarch
An Attempt At Jealousy
So how is life with your new bloke? Simpler, I bet. Just one stroke of his quivering oar and the skin of the Thames goes into a spin,
On my desk, a set of labels or a synopsis of leeks, blanched by the sun and trailing their roots
In Modern Dress
A pair of blackbirds warring in the roses, one or two poppies
(for Rona, Jeremy, Sam & Grace) All the lizards are asleep-- perched pagodas with tiny triangular tiles,
In The Kalahari Desert
The sun rose like a tarnished looking-glass to catch the sun and flash His hot message
A cabbage white: A bluster at the edge of sight,
The Onion, Memory
Divorced, but friends again at last,
we walk old ground together
in bright blue uncomplicated weather.
We laugh and pause
to hack to bits these tiny dinosaurs,
prehistoric, crenelated, cast
between the tractor ruts in mud.
On the green, a junior Douglas Fairbanks,