The website of writer and poet Daniel Bennett
After returning from Indonesia, I found a short term research job with the Unit of Disaster Management, an obscure research unit located in offices outside of Waterloo. On a nine month contract, my duties were low level and banal, but gradually, as my work became appreciated and deadlines loomed, I moved onto more important projects. … Continue reading A Pressed Red Flower In The Abandoned Archive
'Utz had an idea, derived from Russian novels or his parents' love affair at Marienbad, that a spa-town was a place where the unexpected invariably happened.' Utz, Bruce Chatwin
Brooklyn Here we dreamed through the waking hours,forced alert by jet lag and monstrous snow.A valentine in sub-zero. Wind burnor gin blossoms on the C train.A freeze chased us through Washington Squareinto the aisles of the Strand. Brooklyn Bridge stalked the river like a monster.Have you ever woken from sleepinto an old movie? Here I … Continue reading The Kindling
At some point, lyrics became unimportant. Probably around my late twenties, when I stopped really caring about live music. I think some of Smog albums were the last I remember enjoying for lyrical content, and that's suddenly a long time ago. It’s an odd situation for someone who professes to be interested in words. Whenever … Continue reading In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country
My first full collection of poetry, mixing themes of place and memory, family and loss. ‘In West South North, North South East, Daniel Bennett envisages landscapes of decay; urban Britain as a ruined, post-apocalyptic wasteland, haunted by its past, at odds with its present, fearful of its future; countryside and coast bound loosely together by mud … Continue reading West South North, North South East
When I was very young, my father told me stories of a cycling holiday he had taken in the Netherlands during his early twenties. One spring, a little after my thirtieth birthday, I took two weeks off work to follow his journey. I spent the days cycling almost without rest, the nights sleeping by the … Continue reading When You Decided To Call
‘It was at a moment when time, demented and wild, breaks away from the treadmill of events and like an escaping vagabond, runs shouting across the fields. Then the summer grows out of control, spreads at all points all over space with a wild impetus, doubling and trebling itself into an unknown, lunatic dimension.’ Bruno … Continue reading Time
'I find this division into three groups of people-- allergy sufferers, skiers, and drivers-- very convincing. It is a good, straightforward typology. Skiers are hedonists. They are carried down the slopes. Whereas drivers prefer to take their fate into their hands, although their spines often suffer as a result; we all know life is hard. … Continue reading Allergy Sufferers
'This doesn't mean that the abstract form of my discourse, its rhythm and flow, is determined by the story of the dog.' from Empty Words by Mario Levrero
About ten years, I had a short story accepted for Laura Hird's fiction website. It was a nice place to appear, alongside some writers I'd read and enjoyed, although not long after I sent the piece off, the website vanished, leaving me with a vague sense of unease that I'd somehow caused the whole project … Continue reading The Devil Has The Best Tunes
