To rescue Kahlo from the clutches of the corporate art market, we need to acknowledge the overt and covert political dimensions of the work, demands GAVIN O’TOOLE
Of all the many Russian writers inspired and mobilised by the 1917 revolution, it is hard to think of anyone who typified the dynamic, experimental and highly factional literary culture of the early Soviet Union quite so vividly as the poet and playwright Vladimir Mayakovsky (1893-30).
A controversial character and a provocative writer, Mayakovsky always enjoyed a complicated relationship with the revolution. His Futurist poetry was criticised in the Soviet press and his satirical plays attacked for being “obscure.”
Lenin never understood Mayakovsky’s poetry, which he dismissed as “pretentious,” while Trotsky observed dryly that while “it is impossible to out-clamour war and revolution, it is easy to get hoarse in the attempt” and indeed one of Mayakovsky’s books was called At the Top of My Voice. These days Mayakovsky is usually regarded as a tortured love poet, an unstable bohemian or a dupe of the system and, in an attempt to re-establish his reputation as one the most important political poets of the 20th century, Smokestack Books has just published Mayakovsky’s formidable 3,000-line epic poem Vladimir Ilyich Lenin (£11.99).
Do frozen colonists carry the virus of empire? Why is monstrosity a great way to describe capital? Was God a dustman?
JOHN REES replies to Claudia Webbe
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
RUTH AYLETT reviews two collections of outright political poetry


