The greatest living English language poet

isa and I went to hear Geoffrey Hill read some of his poems last night at Manchester Metropolitan University. Lisa, who knows about these things, considers him to be as great as Tennyson, and the Guardian has called him the greatest living poet in the English language. This was one of only three readings in this country, so it was an event not to be missed.

I'd never heard of the man before, but clearly others had because the audience was large - I estimated about five hundred. Indeed, it was too much for the lecture theatre booked, so we had to move to a bigger one. There was an definite buzz in the air, a combination of academic seriousness and undergraduate excitement.

Superficially, the readings were deadly dull. Hill has a dry, donnish, monotone voice, whether speaking or reciting, and the pitch would fall inexorably towards the end of each line, conveying no emotion other than an impression of fatalistic gloom. The sound system and acoustics of the room seemed to emphasise this too. The little I could pick up from his words suggested that melancholy and confirmation of anticipated disappointment permeate his work.

And yet... and yet...

Hill said little between readings, and didn't once look up at the audience, but what he did say was remarkably funny, all the more so for being delivered in that same miserable tone of voice. After one poem, he commented that it had prompted A N Wilson to describe him as "a silly old git". He confessed to feeling like a "stand-up comic manque", who modelled himself on Hilda Baker and Frankie Howerd, and hoped that that came through in his work, though appreciated that it probably didn't.

He even admitted that when his work was compared to Jimi Hendrix, he bought every CD and DVD he could find of Hendrix and grew to like the music. On re-reading the article later, he discovered that he had, in fact, been compared to U2, but by then it was too late because he'd written the next poem he would read out about Hendrix.

I didn't appreciate the poems as much as Lisa did, but I'm glad I went.