‘He is a poet of astonishing clarity, sometimes to the point of initial discomfort or shock, but he’s clever enough to know this will make his work memorable, and what will stay in the mind is both the clenched chateau-fort style and the sensitivity it permits to seep through.
Nobody writes quite like ken Champion and his originality will make him endure. This seems to me like poetry that will never go out of fashion.’Alan Dent, Editor The Penniless Press 2009
‘This is an outstanding debut collection with some exciting poetry. Here is a writer who deserves to reach a wider audience.’Jim Bennett, Editor Poetry Kit 2010
‘Throughout this book Ken Champion shows his flair for painterly detail and filmic segues of images. His voice is sardonic. He is very much his own man without any trace of influence, a fully developed style written with such ease I suspect it has taken years to perfect. There is much honesty in his work and he doesn’t shy away from primal episodes such as in the poem Dad - there’s deprivation and horror. He shares his interest in art, architecture and film, yet wears his references lightly. So much is from lived experience as the best writing is and articulated by a teasing imagination. This work is reflective of contemporary London and there are other international cities which he brings to life, and a darker side, a chiaroscuro that befits the title.’Robert Cole, Editor Chimera 2008
‘Everyday objects and occasions explode into ideas and emotions in this muscular and very welcome first full collection.’Peter Bennett, Other Poetry Book Commendation 2010
‘Ken writes with remarkable clarity. His poems achieve the memorable resolution of a Robert Doisneau photograph and his subjects are unusual and arresting. In simple language he shapes a poem that is distinctly his own. Poetry with the genuine feel of inevitability.’The Penniless Press 2004
‘This is sassy, vibrant, streetwise poetry which cuts to the chase with verve and wit, fully engaged in the realities and surrealities of urban living, in the complexities of relationships…Acutely observed, these poems are sensuously engaging and likeable, like spending the evening with a good friend over a bottle of crisp wine.’The Frogmore Papers 2005
'…takes the reader on a roller coaster of experience. Personal favourites are the beautifully structured Partytime and the reflective Carpet…Cameo Poly features some true gems.'The Ugly Tree 2005
'This is a poet whose work lingers on in the mind. They intrigue and often fascinate, especially the African girl whose relationship with the writer appears as a kind of narrative interspersed with poems of irony and loss: a Wilfred Owen vignette, the surreal Anthopomorthingy and, my personal favourite, Greenfingers. An excellent collection of poetry.’Jeanne Conn, Ed. Connections 2003
‘A well-presented collection of breadth and thought showcasing the poet’s range…Great stuff.’The Ugly Tree 2005
‘An evident wit and talent are found throughout the poems.’Envoi 2003
‘The romance introspective and blunt - the scenery lavish, explicit and stimulating.’Krax 2003
‘I really do like the poems in this book. I love the way the author brings in all the diverse connections and still opens out the poems. Brilliantly solid imagery and yet still tender verses. Am still dipping in and re-reading it, so it hasn’t made it from the armchair to the shelves yet.’Anne Stewart, Editor Poetry of 2016
‘I picked up Ken Champion’s second full collection with anticipation. His first, but black & white is better, has a 60’s style cover, and a sharp, laconic style I guess owes nothing to creative writing classes and everything to life experiences. The exuberant cover of the new book harks further back to the 50’s.
Champion is at his best among London haunts admiring architecture or recalling the currency off his family’s past, counting his dad’s change in Old Money:
Finding the coins, the tuppences, two bobs
It’s t heir clink, light ales, ten woodbines,
There is the same eye for detail in Aunt Rose’s Funeral:
The Benfleet Bungalow, the pampas grass
she would pick to spray with lacquer
for the vase.
In Retro it’s as if you’re watching a film, as Champion gives us a wartime glimpse of his Aunt Lil:
slabbed eels twitching outside, pill box hat for
The Harold on Sunday, turban in the tractor factory
making shells, the painted line down the calf for the Rex.
The cinematic quality is not surprising. The poet reveals his love of darkened afternoons at the pictures and his eye for technical detail:
then the static shot, full face looking sad
as she drives along a road, not even the upward, arcing angle of tree tops
to lessen the intensity
There are more amused and tender observations in Usherettes:
They’ve heard the roar of light hit the screen, ping of a bra
strap from the back row, watched a lit match passed like
an Olympic flame across red velour seats
His preoccupations with architecture, the past, and its movie possibilities - The ward was once a billet for men at the aerodrome / its art deco tower guiding aircraft into a black and white film - are worked into a moving poem about his dying father and their relationship, a father who had carried me on mean shoulders calling me son but never / my name, had played keeper for his regiment, hid behind trees / at the back of the school shouting dive at their feet!
(The Last Stroke)
There is a story in every one of his poems and they don’t require you to worry away at their meaning. His materials are London streets, afternoon movies, fine old buildings and a vanishing or already crumbled way of life, portrayed with warmth as well as detachment.’Greg Freeman, Writeoutloud 2014