There’s something strange about opening a fat parcel of books that bear your own name. It doesn’t seem real, and when you read your own words on a tangible white page rather than a screen, it feels quite odd, and also rather wonderful.

I have been lucky enough – or I should say WE have been lucky enough – to be published by the fine Welsh publisher Briony Collins at Atomic Bohemian. It’s a collaboration between me, and the chemist and poet Stephen Paul Wren, on the subject of microplastics, those tiny fibres shed from the everyday plastic items that we take for granted.

Stephen’s viewpoint as a scientist is somewhat different from mine. I collected historical plastics like bakelite for many years, admiring the sculptural or art deco designs, and the astounding technical innovations of the early and mid 20th century.

I have sold most of the collection, including 55 bakelite or catalin wirelesses. What started out as a wonder substance has become a threat to the environment, and to human and animal health. The thing I loved has become a dirty word.

When I discovered that Stephen shared my worries about microplastics, we decided to write a book together. Some of the poems come in two parts, one written by him, the other by me. Many of them have footnotes directing the reader to the scientific papers or articles which sow the evidence behind the poem. Of course we have extrapolated from the current facts or hypotheses, and the result is often surreal and disturbing.

At one point, I imagine a plastic vape appearing under a child’s skin. It is shocking, but what is also shocking is that we cannot see the amount of plastic particles which travel in human blood, including children’s blood. All I have done is make the plastic appear in its original form, before it was sent to landfill or sea to erode, or else be burned and carried on the air.

Stephen’s first poem declares ‘Add a slash of homicide to/water. Call it the diseased sea.’ And this image of disease is carried through the book, although in a later poem, I pay tribute to the usefulness of hard plastic in hospital settings.

A patient in a bed notices all the plastic equipment which allows him to be safely on a drip, allows him to survive. And yet the TV above his bed reminds him we are all permeated by tiny pieces of plastic waste. The book ends on a note of optimism, envisaging a world where everyday plastic has disappeared, where ‘nothing we have will outlive us’, where the last plastic bottle will be eaten by hero bacteria.

If you live in reach of Exeter, please come to our in-person launch on 17th January. Free tickets here:https://www.atomicbohemian.com/product-page/permanence-lesley-curwen-stephen-paul-wren

If you would like to read the book, here’s the link to Atomic Bohemian: https://www.atomicbohemian.com/product-page/permanence-lesley-curwen-stephen-paul-wren