Diana Hendry

Poet and Children's Author

Short Stories and Essays

Adult Fiction


Short Stories

Many of Diana’s stories have been published in magazines and anthologies and read on BBC Radio 4.


My Father As An Ant & Other Stories (Postbox Press 2017)

This collection brings together stories on the usual subjects: family, growing up, relationships (‘My Father as an Ant’, ‘The Proposal’, ‘The Kiss’) - all full of the sharp observation and insight one would expect from a poet - but they are interspersed with what might be called reports from off the beaten track: stories that with a little push turn the familiar into the strange (the girl with the pet lamb, the woman obsessed with apostrophes), fantasies like ‘Mozart in Heaven’ (featuring the four Holy Joes), tales of madness, mistaken identity, guilt, religion and death - in fact, a wonderful mixture of all kinds of stories - strongly infused with notions of escape and rescue - all beautifully written, with Diana Hendry’s characteristic wry tone and humour.



Essays


Late Style

an essay based on the poems in Second Wind.    BBC Radio 3  26.4.17


Asking the right questions

an essay on being a cub reporter.

Royal Literary Fund online magazine Spring 2017


Poetic Science

a year spent in the Chemistry department.  Chemistry World.  Nov. 2009


Edward Arlington Robinson: a Poet's Life

By Scott Donaldson. The Dark Horse, Winter 2007/8


Halycon Days   (An Extract)  The Author, Spring 2011


          It begins when I get a job in the Literary Department of The Sunday Times. I’m shorthand-typist/secretary to the Assistant Literary Editor, J.W. Lambert and I have never been happier.  I’m happy without knowing it. I’m happy in the way you only recognise later when you’re not happy.

          I’m happy because I’m surrounded by books and because no-one minds me reading them and because for all of my 18 years I’ve been very short of books. I was sacked from my first job – an American oil company in Picadilly - for reading, so I’m not quite sure how I’ve landed this one at The Sunday Times.     

          At first I’m still so jumpy about reading, that I’m constantly poised to hide my book under the desk.  Then Jack Lambert blows in, gives me a ‘good morning’ and clearly thinks it’s the most natural thing in the world to find someone reading.  And so does the assistant Assistant Literary Editor, Michael Ratcliffe, who is not much older than me and therefore eligible only his hair’s rather lank and his waistcoat’s too tight. I can’t place him on any social scale that I recognise except I think he’s a Cambridge grad which puts him right beyond my ken. I’m almost engaged to G but still very alert to eligibility. Though like much else, I’ve got this badly wrong because Michael is gay.

          Actually everyone here is socially beyond my ken.  That’s because I’m bourgeois to the rubber tips of my high heels and I’ve never known the likes of this lot.  My parents - plumber’s son, tailor’s daughter -  are working class people who have climbed gauchely into the middle class on the money ladder. We haven’t two cents of culture to rub together.